I rested on my stomach, face traced by a donut-hole-shaped silk pillow in a dimly lit room. Relaxing music played as a stranger cranked out muscle cramps with her hands and placed suction cups along my lats.
As she rubbed sections of my bare body, she would share how badly I needed a massage. I do not have a person at home or anywhere to massage my back when it’s tight, and it is always tight due to what some may consider an intense training program.
I must pay a hundred dollars when I want the kinks pressed out. Therefore, I live with the knots. After a while, your body gets used to the tightness. Even I did not realize my shoulders had been raised higher than designed until I looked in the mirror after the session and felt the bone structure sagged post-treatment.
But despite the seeming damage to my body from constant powerlifting practice and my masseuse concerns, all I talked about with the woman for an hour was my love for starting powerlifting, her exercise life, and her son’s exercise life.
When I sat in my car, back cramp-free for the first time in a year, I questioned whether I really ever wanted to put a bar back on my back. My mind responded quickly: I want to drive straight to the gym – it is Monday, and I want to squat. I made the healthy decision not to listen to my addiction, though, as my coach advised me to take it lightly this week.
I’ve heard it from family, friends, podcasts, and fitness articles. It seems you have to have a screw loose to put your body through exercises that constantly beat it up. Now, this does not solely apply to powerlifting training alone, but for this sport, the constant micro tears rebuilding a stronger support system in one’s body to slide more plates on each side of the barbell continuously is extreme. Even as someone who falls into the category of loving it, I do not know why.
However, I do not keep it a secret that I also fall into the category of mental health not being my strong suit. Although I know a lot from experience and have learned to manage my mental health well, people often do not believe me when I say I have struggled.
As I lay on the massage table that day, November 13, 2023, I had a flashback to laying on a bed staring at a white hospital band around my wrist the same day in 2017. On my 21st birthday, November 12, 2017 (sorry for the dates lol), I experienced my last manic episode, and as devastating as that sounds, it was the first time I had been treated for it.
The day I was legally able to drink, I was directed by doctors never to drink alcohol again. I was never able to follow these instructions, though, until this year (a little). Something about my passion for powerlifting has slowly changed how I live my life. Not drinking is hard, but choosing not to drink to perform better is empowering. As a very social person, it really took finding a place with constant energy with bars to replace going to them.
I chose to do my first powerlifting meet on my birthday because I wanted to make a statement to myself and anyone reading on how far I have come in six years. Replace a negative anniversary with a positive one. My numbers were super low, which I knew going into it that I would not stand out skill-wise. While it’s not easy to accept that everyone is stronger, this sport has also taught me not to care about comparing.
While competing has never been something I felt I had to do, it is something I am proud of for completing. I do not see myself stopping training anytime soon, whether my strength increases or stays stagnant. Whether I compete again or not.
My back might hurt from weight, but my brain thrives from the stimuli.