Aside from the practical benefits to being
physically fit (health, primarily), I'd like to tackle the more personal
aspects of your question—how being physically fit could help your depression
and anxiety.
I've always been fairly athletic but I started training
in the gym very seriously when I was 20 years old. It sort of happened on accident. I had just transferred colleges (from
University of Missouri to a smaller art school downtown Chicago called Columbia
College) and I was having trouble making friends. In an attempt to fill some of my time I
bought a gym membership to the spot across the street from my dorm.
This was right off the heels of a lot of big changes
in my life. I, like you, had been very
depressed and very unhappy. I
transferred colleges to get away from toxic social situations and
"friends" I had allowed myself to fall into, and I wasn't really sure
what or who I wanted to become, all I knew was that I needed to change
something for the better.
Within the first week of me lifting at this new gym,
one of the bigger guys saw me lifting (I was still very skinny and just
starting out) and, since he was curling next to me, looked over and said,
"Nice form." I wasn't lifting
very much, but I had been watching workout videos online and was trying to
perform the lifts as I had been instructed.
The fact that he noticed me trying was inspiring, and I immediately
approached him with a couple questions—how can I perform this lift, how do I
gain weight, how do I get stronger, etc.
Seeing that I was hungry to learn, he invited me to lift with him the
next day. We ended up becoming great
friends and training partners for over 2 years (and are still good friends
today).
At first, I dove head-first into bodybuilding/weight
lifting because I, like you, wanted to build better habits, wanted to
change—and admittedly I wanted people to respect me, I wanted girls to pay
attention to me; I thought that lifting would solve a lot of my problems.
And I'll be honest, a lot of that ended up
happening.
At first, nobody understood why this huge
powerlifter at our gym (who seemed to know everyone—nicknamed "The Mayor of
Xsport") was taking the time to teach me.
All the other massive black dudes he lifted with on occasion would stand
around and say to him, "Man, why you fuckin' with this white boy. He's scrawny as shit." He'd say back, "Nah, give him time. He's gonna be a beast one day." The fact that 1 person believed in me was
enough. I worked my ass off every single
day in the gym with him for 3-4 hours, and all throughout the day I made sure
to get in all my meals so that I would have the best lift possible.
Within a few months, I was lifting heavier and
heavier weight. I started putting on
muscle—5lbs, 10lbs, 20lbs—and suddenly all the big dudes started to introduce
themselves. I'd walk into the gym and
they'd yell, "YOUNG COLE!" and dap me up. I'll never forget the day I attempted the
100lb dumbbells for the first time. I
had a half-moon of bodybuilders and powerlifters standing around the bench
while I sat there with the massive weights resting on my knees. They were all shouting and screaming,
"COME ON COLE. COME ON, GET YOUR
MIND RIGHT." On 3, I leaned back,
brought the weights to my chest, pushed, struggled, screamed, got one rep, let
the weights fall, and all of them went nuts.
They had seen me go from nobody to somebody. I could finally lift "big weight."
Kids in my classes started asking me about my
workouts. Girls flirted with me,
wrapping their hands around my arms.
Teachers made jokes: "Don't make Cole mad! He'll eat you!" I started dating a model that was studying
abroad here from Costa Rica. I went to
parties and the "cool" dudes that before would have ignored me or
made fun of me were now trying so hard to befriend me, asking if we could live
together.
My entire life had done a 180.
But let me tell you something, and this took me a
long time to learn:
You might think that weightlifting or becoming
physically fit will change you for the better, and it will. It absolutely will. But if I'm being honest, it will only take
care of half the battle.
The other half is all the inner work I had to do in
parallel to the changes that were happening to my body. You have to understand, for the majority of
my adolescence I got made fun of, I was picked last, I didn't have a date for
school dances, I was sick all the time (undiagnosed with Celiac Disease), I had
no confidence, I was extremely depressed, my parents were sending me to
therapists and doctors every other week; I had no concept of what life would be
like where people actually accepted you.
And then suddenly, one day I "woke up" and
I had everything. I had the approval of
others, I had their respect, I got invited to parties, I had girls talking to
me, I was going to high-end modeling parties with my girlfriend, my teachers
treated me differently, guys that made fun of me in high school were now
messaging me on Facebook asking for my workout routines, my extended family and
cousins and even siblings made jokes about how much I'd changed—people that
knew me before didn't even know how to treat me anymore. I had changed that much.
On the surface, most people assume there is no
discomfort that comes with something like that.
"Oh, poor you, you got everything you wanted." Ok, yeah, in some sense I did. But what people don't consider is that
underneath the 40lbs of muscle I was still the same insecure kid. The kid who nobody liked or respected. The
kid who felt self conscious about EVERYTHING.
It doesn't matter how much you change your exterior, you will always be
that same kid deep down—until you focus just as much energy on changing your
mental and emotional state.
Once I became aware of this, I started to approach
my lifts differently. My time in the gym
was no longer just about building muscle or lifting heavy weight. It was about observing my thoughts, learning
to accept them and eventually move beyond them.
I could see very clearly when I felt depressed or when I felt anxious,
and once I became aware of it I found ways to reframe what was going on around
me. I trained myself to see the
positive, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to let go of that
"kid" I used to be, and more than anything, allowed myself to see
that it wasn't my exterior that had changed as much as it was my Self. Just like the 100lb dumbbells, I had to train
my mind to grow and mature.
So, to answer your question: Will becoming
physically fit change you and the way you see the world? Yes.
But if you don't use the process to also inspire meaningful change
within yourself, then you will become a shell—and nothing more. Your glorified physique will be a heavy suit
of armor that will do little to defend against your depression and
anxiety. It will get you the fleeting
rewards in life, but not the meaningful ones.
If you really want to change, you have to turn your
focus inward. And yes, lifting weights
can help increase focus.
Source from:http://www.nicolascole.com/