Discipline as a way of being.

 This post is actually something I had written in early August 2023, just two weeks before I walked into the gym for the first time. A year later I read it again and with tearful joy, reminded myself who the fuck I am.

I have been thinking of my younger years a lot lately. Specifically, what had allowed me to thrive in school without any real strain and hefty sacrifice of time for leisure, rest and play. This was prompted by me trying to figure out a new way of living. Being a working adult is so taxing on time and life. It often feels like I am constantly trying to catch up on something. An experience that I know is universal, but I also know that other people often appear better prepared for it than I am.

There is of course an abundance of ideas out there on how to achieve a balance between life, work and wellness. Scientists, wellness experts, gym bunnies and bloggers have written and talked at length about the benefits of healthy eating and regular physical activity in improving our ability to cope with life as we know it. But why am I struggling so much to achieve this? What is it about physical activity mostly that renders me so lazy and unable to commit to myself in that way? Why is it so much easier to commit to reading something important for work than to give my body something it clearly needs?

Last year I had my first real health scare that landed me in hospital for the first time in my life. I even had to have surgery. In the weeks following my hospitalisation I went through a depressive episode and felt completely out of control of my life and health. Wondering if I had made an attempt to stay fit prior to getting ill, would it have spared me the terror of it all? I decided that I was finally going to take exercise seriously and take better care of my body and mind. Then life happened again and so that decision was never followed through with the commitment needed to make a lifestyle change.

I have now concluded that my real issue is an extreme lack of discipline as far as my life outside of work is concerned. Probably stemming from deep seated issues of body dysmorphia and likely internalised fatphobia. I have never been small, even as a child. I knew this and everyone including my family made a conscious effort to remind me of it often, sometimes in cruel ways. I am going to have to gradually sort through the psychological rubble that if I am to get anywhere with this. My reasons for wanting to get fit are not even centered around weight loss but that’s the source of my anxiety around starting out. Well that and suddenly becoming those people who only want to wear athleisure.

There is an expectation when you start becoming active, that you should become smaller. I fear that despite considerable effort on my part, I may not actually lose weight. Wellness has always been framed around being as small as possible. Of course, as an adult, I know that there is more to it than that. I know. But the feelings and ideas that formed in me around this in my childhood unfortunately do not just disappear because of this newfound knowledge.

The reason it is easier to be disciplined around work and its commitments is that there is guaranteed reward. Acknowledgement and gratitude from my seniors, a quiet respect from my peers and subordinates. Being a good student taught me this. In the realm of fitness though, the rewards are not so linear nor are they immediate. Part of me worries that I may come out satisfied with my progress and still be aware of the ogling eyes of others. The other part of me that is formed by my own experiences, knowledge and convictions doesn’t give a shit though so I will just go with that.