Changing My Relationship With Exercise

I started going to the gym with my dad when I was 13. I was happy to go with him, happy to be invited. Having that early morning ritual helped me feel connected to him. We had a little competition to see who could last the longest on the elliptical trainers. I didn’t think at the time that he was worried about my weight gain. Puberty helped me fill out quite nicely and practically overnight. My overeating went from being cute to being a concern. So, 5:30 workouts became my routine. I was already an active teenager- I played every sport I could- soccer, basketball, volleyball… I even ran on the track team. I wasn’t a gifted athlete by any means, but I liked being busy and hanging out with my teammates. The gym for me was just another way to stay busy, something to do that felt good and gave me energy. That was before I tied my self-worth to how many push-ups I could do. 

What I learned from bonding with my parents around diet and exercise is that my family was happier and closer when I was actively working to achieve thinness.  

A couple of years later I’d be on Weight Watcher’s (now just WW, thanks “wellness” industry) with my stepmom and feeling similarly to going to the gym with my dad. It was a way to connect to her. We prepared our food together, weighed it out, measured each portion with our special Weight Watchers measuring cups and scale. At the time I was losing weight so that I could join the Navy. Looking back now, my parents were so proud of me. What I learned from bonding with my parents around diet and exercise is that my family was happier and closer when I was actively working to achieve thinness.  

My experience in the Navy was dominated by trying to stay within the physical standards.  I failed my first weigh-in after boot camp. I was 19 and 164 pounds. The limit was 163. That 1 pound would create a permanent blemish on my career. Failing a Physical Test held people back from promotions or the best assignments, and if I failed three I would be kicked out. My ambitions were completely deflated. I was working out 8 hours a week already. I would jog 5 miles around the Monterey peninsula every Saturday on top of my daily workouts with my group of sailors. I thought at that moment I could never have the career I dreamed of in the military, and I committed to working extra hard to keep my weight off just so I could stay in.

When I was 22 my mom died. She had been battling cancer on and off for six years. I fell into a deep depression and eventually my vigilance to stay within my weight limit ended. I gained over 30 pounds that winter. My supervisors tried to be understanding and accommodating, but I eventually let it go to far and I was discharged early. It was a crushing experience that still affects me today. I often feel not good enough, or that what I want will always be out of reach.

After the Navy, I entered a 15-year cycle of losing 20 pounds and gaining 25. I joined countless gyms, did all the diets, and trained myself to exercise away enough calories to be able to make up for whatever I decided to eat on any given day. I went to therapy when I decided my weight problem was more mental than physical. Therapy helped me immensely, but I did not lose weight. I still can’t fully explain why I am the way I am. I know how to lose weight, but the amount of work it takes is exhausting and riddled with anxiety and stress.

In 2020 we entered a global pandemic. I had to stop being so busy and stay home. It was a nightmare for someone like me. I packed on the pounds at the same speed I had when I lost my mom. I stopped exercising. By the end of 2020, my physical fitness had deteriorated so much that I couldn’t properly wipe myself when I went to the bathroom. I couldn’t reach behind me. That moment on the toilet, although obviously private, was one of my most humiliating. I bought a scale that week, and as I stepped on it, I promised myself to treat the number simply as a tool. Just a tool to help me pay more attention to my body. The number wouldn’t mean anything and I wouldn’t beat myself up. I finally understood that model wouldn’t work. I am fat, but that doesn’t mean I have to get skinny to be able to take care of myself and value my life enough to do the things I want to do. The simple goal of being able to reach behind me or touch my toes or get up from a chair without strain was enough to get me started. I installed a home gym and made it my own space with all the things I wanted for it. I set some goals for myself that weren’t centered on weight loss: drink 64 ounces of water a day, eat some vegetables, spend more time outside, and go to bed at a reasonable time.

Me working out in my home gym in 2020

When my self-care stopped being about becoming my idealized self and became centered on what was in my power in the moment to feel less shitty, I was able to have more compassion for myself. And that is what this workbook is about: feeling less shitty. I like to make a plan and this book will help you build something that gives you love and compassion.

Like any relationship, loving yourself is work. And that’s all I am, really, someone trying to do the work and having plenty of days where that work just doesn’t get done. But I hope what I’ve learned and my communication skills can give you some little gems of energy that you can use to feel better as we move through life with more compassion, grace, and contentment.

When my self-care stopped being about becoming my idealized self and became centered on what was in my power in the moment to feel less shitty, I was able to have more compassion for myself.