Ok...did the other 2 of the 3 lifts to get the starting place.
125 on the bench...WAY more than I expected. Put 135 on the bar, I could have pushed it, but I chose to baby my shoulder instead.
Last night, Grant and I went to Westside...back squat. Man oh man this one made me feel sad sad sad.305 and it felt heavy. But, I had to put myself in check after a bit. Yes it is 70 pounds less than in May, but...I didn't use a strap or a safety bar...I could get my shoulder in place.
That's progress!
I am a little sore, but I can move the arm today.
again...progress. The total on the lifts this week?
Dead 345
Bench 125
Squat 305
Well that's 775...I guess I can up my goal for December since I wanted 750 for the meet. I'll shoot for 800. Or 805...
I videoed too...I am not getting as deep as I think. Yea! video! Good stuff to work on.
But it triggers my self loathing. It just does. I have an image in my noggin of what I look like...dang...that's off.
Oh well....what's that? yeah..starting over....starting over.
Speaking of which....this is what I did last Sunday....
what's that? A journal.
yup...I burned ALL of my journals. I am not against journaling..in fact I had journals in from the 1990's. Recently I started looking at them...cracked off the dust and read.
It was sad.
Really sad. The things I allowed...the things I felt for years and never fixed.
I realized that I wrote to express what couldn't be said out loud, but I think what happened in the process of putting it down was I THOUGHT it had been expressed or that I had been heard or taken care of. In reality, I saw years and years of the same feelings of being ignored, made to feel small, being lonely....so terribly lonely.
I wondered too if I kept all these little books as some sort of proof of what I felt....not sure if that makes sense or not....but in the process of trying to insure that I knew what I felt was real, I wasn't letting it go.
I don't need the journals anymore to prove anything...I know who I was, things I felt, what was real in my experience of things. If I hold onto these little books, it sorta feels like I am holding on to the pain. I am not lonely, I am not alone, I am not crazy, and I am not unloved anymore.
So....time to start over...again.
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