I have worked with a personal trainer for very nearly three years. I met him because I joined a local gym that offers two free sessions with a trainer as part of a welcome package. I was at my heaviest, and we got along okay, so I gave him a shot.
We spend an hour together every week. We talk a lot. I can be kind of weird with people when I don't yet know them well, and he took all my weirdness in stride.
My first year with him, I lost a few pounds, but I was probably a bit of a difficult case as I was significantly out of shape, weak, and uncoordinated. I was also a bit lazy and would cancel sessions at the last minute simply because I didn't want to go. In the second half of that year, my life took a sharp downward turn as a perfect storm of life/work stress and a medication fiasco left me nearly unable to function (and nearly minus an arm). He didn't judge me when I showed up with cuts all over my arm. He asked what happened, expressed concern, but accepted my responses and kept me focused on working out. There came a point late in the year where I sank into a depression so profound I was unable to even show up to work, and I took a couple weeks off from training-- from even going outside. He told me to take my time, and let him know when I could be back.
All of that really came to a head in December of 2011. Somewhere in there, I figured my shit out apparently, because I stopped cutting, was properly diagnosed as type II bipolar, was assigned a new medication schedule, and... got the fuck to it. I went back to work. I went back to the gym. I stopped the horrifying binge-eating episodes and watched everything I ate (maintaining a balance of carbs/proteins/fats while under a daily allowance of 1600 calories). He measured me every month, and the weight just flew off, the muscle piled on, and I was becoming happy. He congratulated my efforts-- in all aspects-- along the way. Even as I was having my larger scars treated for hypertrophism, he would sometimes remark, "Hey, they're looking flatter. Nice!" I lost over 50 pounds in 2012 alone.
This past year has not been quite as impressive in terms of total weight lost-- perhaps 15-20 pounds down in the last 12 months. But under his teaching, I continuously become leaner and more muscular. I started running at some point in there, which was outrageously unfathomable before. I fucking lift weights. Deadlifts. Cleans. Push presses. Effin back squats and kettle swings. I am almost always in the "men's" area of the gym, and it earns me a lot of (kind of weird) attention from all the bros. I'm one of them.
The point is, he helped me survive the lowest and hardest period of my entire life, and then LITERALLY made me stronger than I have ever been, ever. In many ways, I owe that man my life.
Today he let me know that he and his fiancee are moving back east to their home state.
They are leaving in two weeks.
I had often thought about what to do when I wouldn't be working with him anymore. It had to happen eventually-- either one of us would move away, or some other thing would happen, but in any case, of course I could not continue a personal training regimen indefinitely. I always came to the same fears and questions-- how would I take care of myself? I have all these notes and records of my past sessions, and I repeat them on my own all the time, but how do I made a new sequence? How do I know how much weight to add as I get stronger? Whatever will I do?
We talked a little while about some of that today, but in the next two weeks we will go over it more in-depth. He says I could try one of the other trainers (he said he specifically would trust one in particular, so we'll see), or if I wanted to, just move on to doing things on my own. We'll figure something out. He says, "I won't be here physically but I'll still always be here, you know, call/text/facebook, you always know how to reach me if you have any questions or just wanna shoot the shit or whatever." It's one of the rare times I actually believe someone telling me that.
Still.
What the fuck.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do.
I am a strange person and have a hard time bonding with people, and then when I do, they leave, and behind them are all these calluses building over my heartstrings, and eventually it can only be a solid mass of inflexible, unfeeling scar tissue, and that day can't fucking get here soon enough.
I am so lost, and I am so upset, even more than I thought I would be, and I don't know what to do.
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Since my old trainer informed me he was leaving, I have been an emotional wreck.
There were definitely phases of grief-- from the immense, heaving sadness to outlandish and nonsensical "this is my fault" thoughts. He's gone now, and I'm starting to get the hang of things, I suppose.
Throughout my history, I have used excess as a means of coping. Excessive drinking. Excessive drug use. Excessive eating. Excessive (and risky, nearly anonymous) sex. Excessive sensory stimulation (in the form of cutting and self-harm). Over time, I have changed some of my habits, but not all of them: so I put everything I had into working out.
Part of me just wanted the opportunity to see him every day until he left. I wanted to soak up the sounds of his voice and embed them in my memory, because the worst thing I can do when trying to let go of someone is to forget them. The rest was seeking that excess-- so I worked out, every day, as hard as I could. I went in full-force, lifting heavier weights, doing extra reps and sets, adjusting to make everything more challenging with each round. I only skipped Christmas and New Year's Day, because the gym was closed.
Yesterday I went in and finally my body told me that I am being ridiculous. I got through the first sequence for 3 rounds, like normal, but I couldn't get through the second one. I was losing form, fast, and had to cut my losses. I did a couple of 'finishing' moves, stretched, and went home in a shroud of failure.
I got immensely depressed yesterday, and quite suddenly. It is hard to say exactly what was going on biologically, but the fact is I have exhausted my body as I have exhausted my mind, and I suppose having reached a literal failure, I dropped. It hit me while I was in the kitchen trying to get some dishes put away. I shuddered and felt so very small and ugly, and when I caught my reflection in the window all I saw was frailty and fear.
This was followed in the evening by what I sometimes refer to as my "night psychosis"-- this is by no means an official, medical term, only one of my own use. It happens just before I go to sleep (usually), when I become exceedingly anxious and convinced there are monsters or ghosts or demons or SOMETHING TERRIBLE in my closet, in my doorway, etc etc. When I first turn off the light it isn't so bad because everything is black, but as my eyes adjust to the darkness and I make out the shadows and outlines of my bedroom's topography, I am overwhelmed with a bone-deep fear. I am convinced that if I turn my head, or if I open my eyes again, something will be there, staring at me, watching me. I have never been able to pinpoint why this happens, but it does, and with some frequency. Sometimes it strikes in the shower, when I close my eyes to rinse my hair and I can't compel myself to open them again because I KNOW something will be staring at me when I do. It's the damndest thing.
All of that isn't the point here, though.
Today I met with my new trainer for the first time (rather, for our first session). She is clearly knowledgeable and fit and muscular, which I take to be a good sign. My old trainer specifically recommended I work with her, and I can sort of see why.
Things are different. She is different. I know it will never be the same, but maybe it will be okay. She knows I like lifting weights, and she seems enthusiastic about keeping up with that (as well as incorporating more HIIT and metabolic stuff so I can continue losing weight). She referred to lifting as the "fun stuff," and that is definitely a good sign.
So I think it will be okay.
I cried very briefly when I left the gym today.
Things will be different now.
But I think it will be okay.
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