Adversity
Disclaimer: this is a real story about my real past life, it’s not really funny but I’ve attempted to add humor just so no-one’s day is completely ruined. Please re- read the Tinder one afterward to take the edge off if you need to.
I’ve been uncertain whether to share this story or not, as it’s pretty dark, and normally I’m all like lol handjobs, barbells, whatever and don’t want to disappoint anyone with any seriousness. Handjobs ARE funny (and pointless, TBH) and I will try and work some in here if I can, but I think mostly what I want to talk about is kinda serious. 100% DM me for any non-serious banter that’s training or dick related. I feel I must specify no images though, thanks.
Anyway. *serious mode*
When I was younger and slightly more of an idiot than I am now my AMRAP of choice was more substance related (sorry Mum). I won’t say there weren’t some fun moments, because what’s not fun about weighing 45kg as an adult human, not sleeping for days on end, and damaging as many healthy relationships as you can with insanely selfish and dysfunctional behaviour. So, actually…there weren’t any fun moments, I just have a relentlessly annoying habit of trying to see the positive in things. Blame the many podcasts.
This winner of a boyfriend I had at the time (along with the extent of substance abuse, let’s be real) had such a psychological hold on me that this whole nightmarish episode ended in a pathetically half-assed suicide attempt on my part, (Panadol doesn’t work FYI) after which I pulled myself the fuck together and hurtled forward into the next stage of my life – Emotionally Unstable Art Student. Please note here that I’m not making a joke about suicide attempts, my personal experience was 100% ‘look at me, look at me’, rather than ‘I genuinely want to die’. My main problem in life at this point was too many toxic things/ people, which I’ve learnt can be equally as dangerous and hard to quit as each other.
My boyfriend during this period was one of the few people in my life who have genuinely scared me. He never hit me but did things that made me think he probably would, like breaking windows or hurting animals, (I won’t go into specifics here because you will actually be sick) and the first time we had sex I didn’t have a choice in the matter. He told me if I ever left him he would kill me, while simultaneously telling me that I was ruining his life and that he hated me. It was confusing to say the least. In retrospect he was a total pussy and would never have followed through with these threats, but he had my 18 year old mind so twisted and terrified that I kept going back to him. The day that I finally woke the fuck up and left him was the day I found out he had watched his friend physically assault his girlfriend (my friend) while he watched. This was a guy who once smashed the windscreen of his OWN car in a meth-fuelled rage. Wherever those guys are now I hope it’s somewhere they don’t allow you scissors, and the arms of your jacket are tied behind you just in case someone sneaks some in.
My point is that I woke the fuck up. The next day I put in a late enrollment to study a Bachelor of Fine Arts, which was accepted (please refer to the Pterodactyl Incident) and literally the following week I began a four year degree, still in the middle of the worst comedown of my life. I threw all of my extensive emotional baggage into the next four years and created some really fucking twisted pieces of art that are massively embarrassing (but also hilarious) to look back on over a decade later. This story could have had a way worse ending than some disturbing artwork and a $30,000 student loan, and I’m beyond lucky and grateful that I had (and continue to have) people on my team who feel I’m worth saving from myself.
I’m not going to bore you with the years between then and now, long story short I grew up, changed countries, careers, and my addictions to things like training, gum (seriously I’ve been writing this for half an hour and have chewed 12 pieces) and My Fitness Pal. I always get people telling me I’m obsessed with training and I don’t have balance. Honestly, I don’t care. Fuck balance and fuck living your life in fear, whether it’s fear of an animal torturing psychopath, or fear of going all in on whatever lights your fire. I read recently that an experience is simply an experience, and it is your perception that makes it a good or a bad one. I could look at this episode as a total fucking waste of time, money, and perfectly good light-bulbs. I could regret being a sack of shit, hanging out with other sacks of shit, and now being stuck with a massive student loan for a degree that I have no use for. But I learnt stuff, besides how to utilize household items for smoking devices and paint my feelings in a variety of mediums. I learnt that I am strong enough to quit things and people, and whenever I’m faced with adversity now I remember how hard this time in my life was, and that I got through it, and that I can do hard things.
The reason I decided to share this story isn’t to justify why I am how I am. There’s many events and experiences that have shaped me and I don’t hold this one as any more important than other, less dramatic ones. This is just partly how I have got to this point in my journey and I wouldn’t change anything, besides maybe those weekly student loan repayments. I chose to share this in the hopes it resonates, even with just one person.
Next one will be funnier, with more handjobs, I promise.
