For most of my life, exercise served a single purpose: to shrink myself. Even while understanding that it was also beneficial for my overall health, strength, and longevity, the primary focus was always on getting smaller. Even as I recognized the mental health benefits of exercise, my main aim remained to reduce my size. All the other perks—feeling strong, energetic, and mentally well—were merely bonuses. I was fixated on that number on the scale and my body size.
But about a year and a half ago, I decided to stop exercising altogether. I had come out as gay and was navigating the difficult waters of divorce, dealing with the trauma that followed. Rebuilding my life from scratch took all my mental and physical energy. My priority was ensuring my kids were alright and achieving financial stability. As a result, I slipped into a low-grade depression that felt different from what I’d experienced while in the closet.
Throughout 2020, I coped with binge eating and hardly moved, except for occasional walks. I promised myself I would “get back on track” but found myself watching my body grow larger and feeling like I had let myself down. My clothes no longer fit.
I engaged in toxic mental battles, trying to convince myself that hating my body would motivate me to exercise. My thoughts about exercise were still centered around the idea of getting smaller.
I felt embarrassed by these thoughts; they were unhealthy and hypocritical. While I advocate for body positivity—believing every body is a beach body—I was harshly critical of my own. I would never speak to anyone else the way I spoke to myself.
Then three months ago, I began taking antidepressants. A few weeks into my low-dose SSRI, I felt a gentle urge to move. I envisioned myself lifting weights, doing push-ups, and sweating to my favorite music. Surprisingly, this urge wasn’t tied to a desire to lose weight; it simply seemed enjoyable.
It felt like rediscovering something I had long forgotten. I began to look forward to exercising, which used to be a natural part of my life. I had never associated physical activity solely with the desire to be thinner. Since I was 12, “exercise” had been linked with “diet” or “weight loss,” and I would never work out without also counting calories.
Now, after all I’ve been through, exercise has taken on a new meaning. I’m heavier than ever, but I’m not exercising to shrink myself.
I’m tired of hating myself over something as trivial as my body shape. After years of disordered eating and preoccupation with size, I am finally viewing exercise as it should be: a means to feel good, both physically and mentally. I’ve created a small workout space in my garage with weights, a kettlebell, and a medicine ball, where I dedicate 30 to 45 minutes each day to movement.
Here’s the difference: I’ve been exercising almost every day for a month without losing a single pound, yet I don’t feel the need to “work out harder” or “adjust my diet.” In the past, a stagnant scale would have left me feeling like a failure, prompting me to restrict my food or abandon my workouts altogether. I used to think, What’s the point if I’m not losing weight?
But now, I genuinely don’t care about the number on the scale. After a month of consistent workouts, I’m noticeably stronger. The weights I once used are no longer sufficient; I’ll need to invest in heavier ones. I even added an affordable spin bike from Amazon to mix in some cardio while protecting my knees. I find I recover more quickly after intense sets or sprints. It just feels exhilarating to sweat and to want to move my body. Most importantly, it feels amazing not to be depressed.
These short workouts have become the highlight of my day. I truly look forward to this time for myself, where I can zone out, listen to music, and feel my strength growing. With the combination of antidepressants and daily exercise, I feel more emotionally stable than I have in years.
If I maintain my current size but continue to feel strong, energetic, and mentally well, that’s a far greater victory than losing a few pant sizes.
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