I parked the car and sat in silence to what seemed an eternity, staring at the brick wall in front of me. I felt almost paralyzed. Stuck in a time warp.
Suddenly with a large gasp of breath my body moved. I blinked. I snapped out of the motionless loop.
I calmed my breath, picked up my phone to write this and felt a sudden release for the feelings that my head was able to pour out.
In half an hour, I am meant to walk into the gym for what will be one of the final times to conduct a PT session. It’ll be a great session. It has been planned and my client is always willing to do their very best. The gym is nice too. It has some lovely people to meet.
Half an hour. Hmm. I’d best tap down my words with ultra speed. I haven’t got long. My hand is shaking which isn’t helping. Thank goodness for auto correct. My vision is cloudy. I blink a few times and I stare at this screen. Other than my eyelids and a tapping thumb it feels like an eternity since I last moved. My back will scream at me once I do. Once I can.
Half an hour. I’d best put my best face on which, if I’m being totally honest, feels lost right now. Will I find it in the glove box? Maybe in the boot of the car? No. But if I dig deep enough into my soul I know that I will find it. 8 years a PT, three years at the front of house in a busy restaurant and many many years supporting vulnerable people means that I have become very good at finding it when I need to. People rely on me. I commit to times and appointments and I keep them. My kids. My wife. I find it all the time.
Come on best face. I know you’re in there.
If only this feeling of adrenaline in my belly would go, perhaps I would be able to operate better. We know it better as ‘butterflies’. It’s currently whooshing up into my head which isn’t making it easy to think. Damn butterflies.
The more I try to place logic onto my current mood, the more it frustrates me. Here I am, now fifteen minutes away from stepping out of my car, walking the same path and entering the same building that I have done for the past four and a bit years and yet I feel that if I were to attempt it now, right this very instant, my feet would not move.
15 minutes. No *checks clock*, 13.
Franz Kafka wrote,”I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party, and I attended with my real face.”
My best face is my costume. I realized that my real face wouldn’t sell PT and would put the diners off of their meals at the restaurant. The only people who would truly understand my real face are the vulnerable people who I supported. They were often misunderstood by society too. Maybe that is what made them vulnerable. It has nothing to do with their behaviours or abilities, it’s just that society doesn’t understand them so it labels them ‘vulnerable’.
Vulnerable to what? Social media? War? Corruption? Too fucking right. Then perhaps we can all empathize with this vulnerability.
5 minutes. I need to bring my breathing back to its normal pattern.
4 minutes. I look outside of the car window. This time out of the passenger side. At least it has people mulling about out there. A sign that the world is continuing outside of my car.
3 minutes. I need to wrap this up. I hate being late.
2 minutes. I hear my mantra. ‘I am in control. I am in control of my body and my mind.’ Repeat, repeat, repeat.
1 minute. I’ll promise to give the best version of myself today and smash it.
No minutes left. Best face.
Never Give Up PT 