"Built like a linebacker"

 

Broad shoulders, thick thighs, and strong af calves, I can't shrink away anymore. Hi. It's me. 

There's no doubt about it. I'm the endomorph body type, and I grew up being constantly reminded of this. CONSTANTLY. When you hear "you're built like a linebacker" anytime you're trying on clothes, or trying to dress up, you start shrinking. You start believing that there's something wrong with your body. Run and sport more, harder, eat less, and before you know it, you got yourself a case of disordered eating. But this isn't about what I did or didn't eat. This is about me growing into them shoulders. 

These broad as fuck shoulders and thick thighs ended up carrying myself; my whole self, more than I had ever imagined. I started weightlifting 6 days a week. It sucked and I fucking loved it. I was in my late 20's, and I needed direction. I had already severed ties with my 'mother' and I carried that anger as I head butted, titty twisted (literally), and mooned (yes, unfortunately) my way through the hardcore scene in Bangor. I was angry. I needed to channel this anger and frustration into something other than hurting other people or being a complete bitch. I knew this wasn't me, and I was tired of being angry. 

So squats and leg presses became my thing. I'll be honest and admit I cannot remember my max squat weight, but leg press... I maxed out at 650 pounds. I maintained that for years, and I did so happily. I continued weightlifting, although not nearly as intensive as I once did, but I still incorporated it into my workouts. If I was going to be called a linebacker, I at least wanted to be jacked. 

Unfortunately, that never happened. Consistency during sickness wanes, and my arms grew soft, but my shoulders remained broad, and my calves still remained "pie plates" as my coach called them. Thank god they did. As I felt weak, and tired internally, and even as I felt physically weak during the lows of depression, I ultimately knew I could shoulder the burden. I knew that my shoulders would carry the weight, and my legs; strong and able, would continue forward. No matter how many emotional breakdowns I had when I was alone, I always picked myself up off the floor and moved ahead. 

 Right now as we find ourselves in the throes of a pandemic, I find myself aching for safe companionship. I have my distant circle of friends (really, they are fucking godsends) who have unwittingly taken the sting away, but even as much love and support they provide, the physical closeness is missing. I know I'll be okay. I know that I'll continue to weather the storm. The surges come and go. Sometimes the pain is easier to carry than others, or the fear not as dark. Those times my shoulders relax, and my legs unclench. I breathe. 

When it gets bad again, I dust off my shoulders, flex my calves, and pick up the weight. Anaerobic respiration; breath holding, I'm not nearly as efficient as I could be. But I make do. I carry on. I move forward. Shits gonna be okay because I know I got this. I always do. Regardless whether or not its ultra independency, or resilience, I'm going to do this. 

We can collectively take a deep breath, identify our holding patterns, and keep. fucking. going. Someday I'll be able to crawl into someone's lap and let go. That time isn't now. When will it be? I don't know. I'll find them when the time allows. I've laced up my cleats, and this little linebacker is ready to go.

 Bring it. 

I know I've posted this before, its just as poignant as ever. Whatever your god may be, or even your resiliency or self determination, this song breeds hope.