I Know, I Know, I Know?


I went and hit 225 again today, and I celebrated a bit more but still didn’t really feel that joy. Music is starting to sound somewhat nice again, but I miss how it used to hit me.

I’m at 835/1000 right now, but I’m a bit afraid once I finally cross 1k will I even feel good? I know I’ve said this over and over again, but the only thing I really remember from my senior year of high school weightlifting was working my way up to just the bar. For comparison, the weightlifting standards for bench are as follows:

102 lbs 144 lbs 196 lbs 255 lbs 319 lbs

This goes from beginner, all the way up to elite. After half a year of lifting, I was around 50 lbs.

I went from 115 to 225 in about 7 months this time. That is a ludicrous achievement, especially given the context of how weak I was. Why do I feel no pride? I almost feel contempt for myself. I wouldn’t say I hate myself, but I don’t know what else to say right now. I hate where I am right now, there are so many people above me. There are 15-year-olds lifting 315, and at 15 I couldn’t even lift the bar. How am I not supposed to hate that person? I don’t give a fuck if that 15-year-old is a genetic freak, on steroids, or some world champion. I was not even close to that. I wasn’t even close to the average weak kid. If I don’t hate who I am, how would I change?

I see people online talking about how they’re fully grown adults who have been lifting for a while still not hitting 225, and how they’re happy. I see people congratulating people for hitting 225 on Reddit all the time. Hell, I’ve had people try to gas me up in person about it. It all somewhat disgusts me. I hate myself for saying this here, but how could you be happy with that? I think I hate something here hard enough to push myself past whatever my limits are. My left wrist has been sprained for ~2 weeks now, and I still did it today. Something hurts so incredibly sharp in my left wrist, that it makes me drop whatever is in that hand due to the pain. I finished my workout with that.

I think I hate how depressed I am. I hate how I feel no joy, no pride, no happiness, no pleasure, no nothing. That’s what I think of when I think about myself, and that’s what I hate. I guess I do hate myself. I think if I hurt my body exercising, that’s the same as me hurting the version of me I hate. I feel nothing but disgust looking at that part of me, and I want to do whatever I can to kill it. Fucking pathetic.

Situation: I hate myself for being depressed

Thoughts: Do whatever it takes to destroy that part of you. Doesn’t matter what.

Feelings: I feel motivated, and I feel a sustained and calm rage.

Behavior: I progress in things incredibly fast, because I put everything I have into it. I also feel miserable with all of it.


Thoughts: I will fight to win against that part of me, but this includes all parts of winning this fight. It’s not a win if I’m miserable.

Feelings: I feel a little less motivated, but I feel like I’m not falling for depression’s trap.

Behavior: I’m no longer just recklessly hurting myself, but still pushing myself past what I think I can do. I think this is more motivation based on loving what I do rather than hating what I am.

I know, I know, I know. Love you <3