Reason
When I look in that mirror I don't see the myself. I see a shell of something greater. Call me self-centered, but ever since I began going to the gym I did it for "my health" I told myself. It has become something more complex than that now. I thought of it as a way to spend more time with my two best friends, but in that gym I find myself to have amazing thoughts when I'm alone. (Besides I feel like I burden them with my conversations at times)
My doctor told me in early December of last year that because of my weight and high blood pressure in the long run I could be twice as prone to a heart attack or a stroke. I didn't panic. Hell, my mom didn't even believe she said that. I wasn't scared though
Instead
I cringed my head for countless hours and remembered a quote by this asshole writer I hated in high school
"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."-Mark Twain
I spent 3 months ignoring the idea of the high blood pressure, but every time I would go to a check up, or eat In N Out i'd have that thought in the back of my head or better said in my chest.
thump,thump,thump
I'd tell my friends "its fine." When in reality everything wasn't fine nothing is ever fine when I say it is. I faced a problem and instead of combating it. I choose to sit by and let it continue. On April I go to the doctor again for my regular appointment. This occurs.
I am seated awaiting anxiously for the nurse to come with the machine that looks like a spider. The quiet room with white walls seems similar to solitary confinement, but brighter. Footsteps pace back and forth in the clinic like a well orchestrated march. Everything becomes my center of attention. From the dry sensation in my mouth to the rhythm of my racing heart. My hands begin to sweat in anxiousness.
Can it be over? Why am I here? I'm 18 I can choose not to come? Fuck
knock knock
The next 15 minutes frustrate me. A strap of plastic determines my health. Two digits too high or two digits to low define my outcome. There is no probability; no multitude of variation. Just three numbers over another two digits that calculate my current state. And a blue plastic wrap that grips my arm simultaneously. I try and resist the urge to flex my muscle and pop the grip loose. I try to control my breaths.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale
I close my eyes and try to picture an emphatic painting or aurora. Until the machine beeps and releases the hold.
"142/94 That is high. Let me check again" says the nurse.
I look at her puzzled and fortify my confusion in terms of a question"I don't feel anything different though?"
The silent killer
I do not write this to extricate anyone from believing in clinics, hospitals, or doctors. I write this to emphasize that sometimes it doesn't have to be fear that drives someone to do something. I know for me it wasn't.
It came up as an idea to begin going to the gym, and became a routine after.
I am not saying I am perfect or have managed to achieve my goal. My reason was never that either.
My goal is to crack this shell of a body I have and discover something I've never had. Its not a body with abs, or muscles that drive me to put in the effort. Its something heroic. My reason I thought of after I failed a few tests. It is this.
I will never stop fighting. Even when you say that I will clearly fail. Even if darkness consumes my light and I fade. I will not die, I will rise. Why? because the only person that can ever defeat me is myself. But you?
I'll show you just how powerful I really am.
