Blessed latjob of peace

Blessed latjob of peace

There comes a time in your life when you realise that many of your problems, lifting or otherwise, are self inflicted. When your lumbar spine is injured and you’re being investigated for spondylolisthesis, there’s always the temptation to say “my life was better before I touched a barbell”.

But your mistakes stretch back like chains. They anchor long before you ever felt the touch of chrome plated steel and heard the words of the dread Texan. Those mistakes bind you to your past and guide your future on its course. But it’s OK to feel trapped sometimes, right?

The tendonosis that crippled me from 2008 to 2010, in my first two years of college was caused not by congenital weakness, but by years of imageboard culture and poor posture. I never got my back pain looked at, because it went away. That’s normal, right? I was underweight, because a 1700-day diet calorie with no saturated fat is normal for a young man,right? I wanted to study law and business, because being a writer or a physiotherapist was unrealistic. Guess your dreams always end, right? My one saving grace is a highschool romance that’s lasted 6 years and counting. I made choices, and those choices have consequences.

I’ve ticked the boxes that tell people I’m a functioning member of society. “Welcome to the human race, son.”

Nobody wants to be here, but ultimately nobody wants to leave. Try to try. Trying to unfuck what came before today. Try test-retest your mental health. Don’t create, just tell a story. Try again. Play pretend. Try regaining ROM. Try analysing less.

All I can be sure of is this: get comfortable being in the bottom position, because you’re going to be fucked a lot.

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