Week two: right sight picture, wrong target

 Therapy is a hell of a drug. It’s like walking into a building as a plate of spaghetti but walking out all uncooked and organized. Anyway, my doc gives me shit and shoots down fantastical ideas to keep me grounded. And last week doc K called me out on my shit again. Long story short I’ve been doing this improvement shit all wrong.


See, I’ve done this multiple times. Stone cold sober, in the gym, diet, the whole nine yards. Problem is however in the past i was doing it to gain something. Acknowledgment, praise, all fuckin high fives in comparison. The problem is i never did it for me. So now im doing it for me. And btw that is alien as hell to me…feels selfish, wrong. But its more right than not, and thats what the doc says so its likely smarter than me saying it.


Anyways, four days back in the gym last week and i feel like im smuggling golf balls in my quads. Finished shameless and im lost for content again. And the one handed toddler who was kind enough to give me a mitten (long story) is probably cold because it’s been negative degrees here. Shouts to my dad for reminding me im doing something here, love all yall. Except for the Dallas defense, i dont love you guys. Fuckers.

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