My History of Anxiety, Pt 3

In the first 2 parts of this series, I discussed first the OCD-like behaviors that showed themselves in my childhood, and then the various addictive behaviors I exhibited around different drugs. Now, in part 3, I'd like to continue with my addictive behaviors, except this time they don't involve drugs. In fact, they involve two things that are normally considered good for us. The first of these is exercise.

Getting “In Shape”

At some point in my mid-twenties, I decided that I would find success with women if I just got into shape. Up until then, I had never seriously followed a workout routine. I played sports when I was young, so I was coordinated and in fairly decent shape. I'd even worked out for like a week maybe 3 or 4 times since high school. But it was when I finally joined an expensive health club in the late 80s that I really took it seriously.

And, boy, did I take it seriously!

I can't remember exactly what my workout program was at the time. But I know I spent 3 hours in the gym each day, both lifting and doing cardio. I was incredibly strict about it. I went to bed at 10; I woke up at 4; I left for the gym at 5; I got to the gym at 6, when it opened. Then, I went back at 5, after work.

I knew exactly how many calories I ate each day because I basically ate the same exact thing each and every day. (Except when I went out drinking...wasn't about to give that particular vice up!) Ironically, even though I educated myself, it was quite an incomplete education. I focused on the macronutrients: fat, protein, and carbohydrates. But I never looked at the micronutrients. As a result, despite my strict diet, I never took in vegetables and therefore really cheated myself out of the vitamins and minerals I needed. (As a result, I think I was pretty unhealthy, although that's not the focus of this essay.)

In the first year alone, I went from 160 pounds, with skinny little arms and a bit of a paunch to 185. I still had a bit of a paunch (alcohol, remember!) (and too many carbs, although I don't think we knew that back then). But I just looked strong. People would come up to me for advice in the gym.

I felt so much better about myself, although it did absolutely nothing around my lack of confidence with women. So I pretty much was a jacked virgin, still as shy and unhappy as ever.

How It Took Over My Life

Except now I had another anxiety-filled ritual. Not only was I incredibly strict about when I worked out. But I even was strict about how I worked out.

Since I thought I was lazy underneath it all, I would not allow myself a day off. This included weekends and holidays. It included days I was hungover or legit sick.

I would never allow myself to lift lower weight than I could. And I had to increase in weight, even if it was a miniscule amount, any opportunity I could. I brought an index card with me. It listed each exercise in pen. The exact weights I lifted were in pencil and I had one of those with me too. I would lift to failure every set. If I managed 13 or more reps in a set, I would then go up in weight by the smallest amount possible and that would be the new weight I worked out with, until I went up again. And I would use my trusty pencil to change the weight on the index card right then and there. If my 13 reps took place in the 3rd and final set, I would still write the amount and that would be the starting weight next time.

I drank those weight gaining powders. I ate so much chicken and rice it was disgusting. I took yohimbe which was supposed to increase your testosterone and chewed on a small ginseng root like it was gum all morning until it just dissolved in my mouth.

When I moved out of NYC, I got a bike and rode every place I went. I also played softball, flag football, and soccer every weekend. I wasn't exactly the best player, but I always led my soccer team in goals. As one person put it, I never got tired and just kept running all game.

Good, But Not Good Enough

It was pretty crazy just what good shape I was in. When that person said that about my running, I was in my mid 30s and everyone else was in their 20s.

I have a pretty young-looking face and I remember on my 40th birthday being told by people they thought I was a good ten years younger. I think a lot of that had to do with being in such good shape too.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't love hearing that stuff. It certainly helped my self-esteem. But not enough to give me any confidence anywhere but on the gym or the field of play. (It's also important for me to note that I'm not claiming to be any kind of a decent athlete. I think it highly possible I played on the lowest level of competition on this planet. The point here is what shape I was in, not my ability to hit, field, or score goals.) I was still drinking too much and was lonely and afraid of even approaching a woman.

Next Time: I have Sex! (So, of course, that becomes my new obsession)

As I've written before, I had my first sober kiss, my first girlfriend, and my first sex when I was 29. Thank god, since I was trying to convince myself to just end it all if it didn't happen by the time I was 30. It was with a co-worker of mine who I had befriended. There were three of us who ate lunch together pretty much every day.

Then one day, she asked me out. I didn't think it was a date. I thought it was just two co-workers having a drink or two (I'll write someday about how I was Mr. Friend Zone with many co-workers down through the years).

And ?I'm not even sure how it happened, but we ended up having dinner again the next week, going back to her place to have sex, and thus my new addiction was born!

I encourage you, if you find my story interesting, or find the idea of how I escaped my toxic family interesting, to subscribe to me. Right now, I am writing an essay per day.