Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 15: back in the game

It was like being under house arrest for two whole weeks. I couldn't go out with friends when I wanted to--even though I never really did, but it was always nice having the freedom of that option. Always want what we can't have, eh? Mom kept her word and followed through with what she said about when I earned their trust back. So just over two weeks later, I was back at hitting the gym on the daily.

What did I do until then? Glad you asked.

I did whatever I could that could count as exercise. I pulled out the old weights I started my training with, did whatever parts of my sets I could without gym equipment, and anything else I thought would help--even if that meant running up and down the stairs for an hour while no one was home.

Most of the time was spent stressing over how to change my rigid routine to fit this unconventional one. How many calories do I take in now? Should my protein intake stay about the same? If I count this break away from steroids as a PCT, when should I start them back up again?

One thing I new for sure, though, was that I had acted irresponsibly with what I was doing before this whole hospital fiasco. I treated everything like the amateur I was. I needed to research everything more, understand it all from the inside out. Steroids, protein, sets, PCT's, calories, nutrition, exercise--everything I was doing to perfect my body. So that's what I did most of my days: researching, studying, understanding, and obsessing about those things. I didn't quit until I knew anabolic steroids like the back of my hand.

For two weeks straight, I spent countless hours on fitness forums, educating myself on supplements, exercises, metabolism, supplements, and yes, the coveted steroids. I would scroll through articles and online discussions until my eyes went fuzzy and my mind went numb. Always engrossed in what I was reading, but always on alert for if someone came into my room at any point.

It was a narrow, broken trail I was walking, and one I gave so much of my focus to to keep myself from falling away from it.

But in the end, I walked away from it with confidence that I knew what I was doing this time around, and when it came time that I called Aaron again and explained the situation, I knew what to do in order to keep myself safe from any other accidents.

The naive boy I was missed the fact that this whole journey to complete every little goal I drew was nothing but one big accident. One terrible, horrible, long mistake.

Snapshot.

~

I wouldn't say I had a fear of needles, but I certainly didn't find them fun or something like that. I mean, do you like having a thin, sharp piece of metal stabbed into your body? Exactly.

But as the saying goes, no pain no gain. That's what I kept telling myself when Aaron handed over a package of needles and a box of the much coveted product I was buying.

"Why didn't you just tell me that's whatcha wanted?" he asked, taking a drag from his cigarette as I dug into my wallet.

I shrugged, not really caring anymore about being transparent around this dude. He sold drugs to his classmates for extra cash, who was he to judge? "I was ashamed, I guess." I gave my answer second thought, then added "Or maybe I was worried word would get 'round, ya know?"

He nodded in understanding, like I was a preacher telling him the gospel. Maybe he was just up for listening to what I said because I was giving him money. "I get it. You know how to use those, right?"

"Well I was pretty stupid before," I let out a humorless laugh. "But don't worry, I've done lots of research, and I know this stuff like the back of my hand now."

He clicked his tongue, crinkling the bill into his pocket. "Just be careful, okay? This stuff will fuck up your liver if you take it too long."

I nodded, listening intently to his words. This time around, I was going to listen to every warning I was given, and I was going to know what I was doing.

~

Maybe I was a little too eager to get back in the game. You probably didn't need me to tell you that, but it took me a little longer--and a lot more pain--to realize it myself.

As I sat on the toilet lid wrapping up my wrist, dad passed by, caught a glimpse of what I was doing, and walked backward and into the bathroom.

Concern knit his brow together. "What happened, bud?"

I held my wrapped hand in front of me, balling it to make sure it wasn't tight. The last thing I need is my hand being injured and poorly circulated. "I think I sprained it. Maybe pulled a muscle. It's just not used to working out yet again, is all."

Not to mention you went well over the reps you needed to do.

I got up and grabbed the ice pack from the counter, but he hadn't moved an inch. "Are you sure you're not overdoing it?"

No. "Yeah, I'm sure."

That answer wasn't good enough for him, though. "I get that you're really into lifting and whatnot, but you've been at the gym a lot lately. Going there for an hour or two after school is different than going all day, everyday."

Good thing I planned a response just in case this conversation ever happened. "I really am good, dad. Besides, hitting the gym keeps me busy. It keeps me out of trouble."

Oh yes, I actually went there. I kid you not, I actually used my own stupid mistake, the one that I had lied about, to make him think this prevented me from doing drugs and becoming a trashy person. What a cunning boy I was.

"Just...don't overdo it, okay?" he said, giving me a pat on the back when I walked past.

"I'm not, I swear."

Now, that could be seen as a flat-out lie, but in all fairness, I was so blinded then by everything I was doing that I actually believed it. I somehow convinced myself that I wasn't overdoing it. I made myself believe that I was not only healthy, but getting healthier.

I convinced myself that it's perfectly okay to keep pushing yourself, even when you have an injured wrist, in order to reach your fullest potential.

Looking at it from the outside-in, one would wonder how anyone in their right mind could think these risky behaviors were healthy. But in retrospect, I realize that I really wasn't in my right mind at all.

Snapshot.

~

I want to take a moment to make sure everyone who's reading knows this: if you're going through what Nathan is in this story, and relate a little too much to him and his struggles, please seek help from a professional. Whether it's unhealthy behaviors related to fitness, eating habits, or anything, really, you deserve to be your healthiest self.

Yes, being your healthiest self does include regular exercising, especially if you lead a sedentary lifestyle most of the time. But overdoing it, and obsessing to the point where your whole life revolves around such behaviors is not healthy. However, I would recommend exercise. As someone who both exercises on a regular basis and studies cardiovascular pathology, I CANNOT stress how beneficial even a simple run is to your body--and your mind.

But with that being said, if you need someone to talk to reach out. If you don't feel comfortable talking to someone you know about this, feel free to message me if you need to vent.

Love ya <3