Pre-read warning: This post takes a completely different tone than entries thus far. If you're looking for a snappy fun read, I'd just go ahead and skip this altogether.
For much of my adult life, I've had inferiority issues. Some may call it self-esteem or label it as confidence (or lack thereof). Call it whatever you want, but I've always felt like less. It was in my twenties when I really started noticing all of the things that I was not, as opposed to all that I was. I began the process of focusing on the "what if's" in life, and let me tell you, those thoughts extended to every facet of my existence - more than you could possibly begin to think of.
What if I tried a little harder in college - could I have received a scholarship to law school?
What if I dreamed a little bigger - could I be doing something that made me happier?
What if I was more financially responsible - would I still have the mortgage in student loans that I'm trying to dig my way out of?
What if I was girlier/prettier/less crass/more sophisticated - would I be married and chasing babies around my house by now?
What if I would have pushed myself harder in law school - would I have been able to get a better job right away instead of having to spend six years in an office where I was literally abused and harassed by my boss almost daily?
What if, what if, what if?
When I discovered CrossFit, I started feeling a little better about myself. There weren't many people I knew who did it, and I was proud to say that I pushed my limits in a way that most people wouldn't even consider. It made me feel just a little bit special.
Lately, that "special-ness" has been dwindling. While I watch others around me progress, I feel like I'm doing the exact opposite. On a daily basis, I feel almost like I'm moving backward. I've written about the squat issues and how it's testing the limits of my ego but it doesn't quite measure up to exactly what it touches inside me. Feeling like I'm moving in reverse at the gym absolutely triggers some of my deepest insecurities that no one can ever really understand. When I withdraw into myself at the gym, Sam looks at me like I'm a drama queen. When my friends essentially tell me to suck it up and have fun, they don't understand. But how could they, really? To them, it's a workout and not a measure of your worth. To me, however, it's one of the few things that I try to grasp onto to make me feel special. I'm always striving for that, always reaching for that thing that will validate me to....well, to myself.
I watch videos of women who do CrossFit, I get intrigued by the women's heats at the Games, and I watch our super stars at the gym train for our local competition. While I'm so proud and so supportive, I'm internally struggling with the fact that I'm not that good. I can't perform at that level. I can't compare. Though I was one of the first ladies to step through the door, I sometimes feel like one of the weakest. I'm moving backward. I'm lifting lighter. I don't have a place.
Now before I get comments telling me I'm ridiculous, understand that whether or not your reality is different than mine, this is how I feel. Lately, I feel CrossFit lost. That barbell that once made me feel powerful is making me feel frustrated. In a place where I was once feeling saved, even safe, in the exposure of my weaknesses, I now feel so unworthy. The worst part is that it's all my own doing.
If you know me at all, through life, through the gym or merely through the words on this blog, you've likely encountered a loud, slightly crass girl with a quick tongue and a habit for playful banter. What you probably don't know is that the jokes I make is the armor I wear to hide the fact that I'm constantly feeling inferior to every one of my powerful team members. It's the mask I place to cover up that I know I should be better - a better example of what a year of CrossFit can do. I should be a CFGR leader and not the den mother who packs lunches for the real athletes. I should be more. I should do more. And I'm struggling with figuring out how to do that on my own.
And I guess that's just it - I'm struggling, friends. As much as I know that everyone has these moments, I can't seem to figure out how to brush mine off and move forward. Next month, I'm taking a long weekend to visit some friends in New York. I anticipate I'll do a drop in class at CrossFit Dynamix in Astoria. Just as Kurt introduced me to CrossFit, I passed my love of the sport to Justin. Now Justin joined up with his crew in Queens and had the delusional idea to tell them I was some sort of, and I quote, CrossFit "beast" just because I (again quote) "kicked his ass" during the class I took him to. What he didn't understand was that the only reason for that was because he'd never done it before - of course I'd be able to handle it a little better. Now his box-mates are apparently looking forward to meeting me and I'm trying to figure out a way to get around it. I have a hard enough time showing weakness in front of my CFGR family - I'm not sure how I'll be able to handle it with a box full of strangers.
I know this type of thinking happens when you invest in something as physically and emotionally intense as CrossFit. Day after day, we push our minds, hearts and bodies to the limit. We break ourselves down to build ourselves up. We fall further so we can stand taller. And while this may be the moment where I sit in my valley before I triumphantly climb my mountain, I'm admitting that, currently, the mountain seems insurmountable. I can only hope (and try to believe) that just as in the past, that concrete box within that dirty steel factory will once again help me find my wings.
Until then.......
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