Yesterday, upon the recommendation of my physical therapist, I joined a gym–Planet Fitness. It’s like fifty cents a day, so that’s not bad. Anyway, my physical therapist said if I got hooked up with a gym and could exercise/rehab more on my own, I wouldn’t need to be in their office as often. Well, I spent all day today intimidated about going. You know how it is when you haven’t been to the gym in a while. Yesterday while I was touring the place, it was like everyone there had way bigger muscles than me. I guess I got–what do they call it?–the imposter complex.

Like, I don’t belong here.

This afternoon I did my rehab exercises twice at home, at least the exercises I could do without equipment. In between I took a nap, finished reading one book, and started another. Well, sort of started. Over four years ago, shortly after I began therapy, my therapist gave me a book about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), a psychological approach that (like The Work of Byron Katie) suggests that our suffering is directly related to the thoughts we think. And whereas I read about a third of it way back when, for some reason I never finished it. But then I pulled it off the shelf today as a prop for one of my exercises and decided to pick up where I left off.

This ended up being the perfect thing, as I applied some of the book’s techniques to my hesitation about going to the gym. For example, in addition to my rehab exercises, I’ve been wanting to try some resistance band exercises for my upper body, some stuff I saw online, but I didn’t really know where to start. I thought, If I can’t do this perfectly, I don’t want to do it at all. The book calls this All or Nothing Thinking, and, like the other Cognitive Distortions it lists, always leads to suffering and not Feeling Good. (The book is called The Feeling Good Handbook by David D. Burns.) Also, I thought, Other people will think I’m weird because I walk funny. The book calls this Jumping to Conclusions, which includes Mind Reading (assuming you know what other people will think) and Fortune Telling (assuming things will turn out badly).

Simply identifying these thoughts as Cognitive Distortions was enough for me to “snap out of it” and remind myself that 1) I’m no stranger to a gym and am capable of asking for help if I need it, 2) I’m going for my health and not for anyone else’s approval, 3) any progress is good progress, and 4) what other people think of me is none of my business, and besides, if they’re anything like me, they’re probably mostly worried about themselves.

So I went. Granted, I waited until this evening so they’d be fewer people (and more parking spaces), but I went. And get this shit–it was fine. For a little over and hour, I did my knee rehab exercises and even used the stair machine and stationary bicycle. (The only cardio machine I’m not cleared to use is the elliptical.) Plus, I did a couple sets of resistance band exercises. Part of me thinks, Yeah, but it was only twenty repetitions, but the book says that’s Discounting the Positive, the way you might brush off a compliment about how good you look by saying, “Ugh, I still have five more pounds to lose.” Never mind the fact that’s you’ve already lost thirteen.

So I’m not going to do that. Going to the gym is going to the gym. Twenty repetitions is twenty repetitions.

Before I left the gym, I realized I was actually having a good time, moving my body, learning new things, listening to my headphones. It was even nice to be around other people, even though I didn’t talk to anyone except the folks at the front desk. But I did see one girl who had a prosthetic leg, and that helped put things in perspective. I thought, I just injured a leg; I didn’t lose one. As much as anything, I’m proud of myself for going, for not only stepping outside of my comfort zone, but also for pushing myself ever so slightly.

Now it’s after midnight, and despite my nap this afternoon, I’m ready for bed. My body really wants to sleep. My brain, however, is thinking that I NEED to come up with a really great ending. The book would call this a Should Statement, as in, I should deprive myself of sleep and come up with something better than “the end.” But again, that line of thinking doesn’t lead to Feeling Good, so I want to recognize it for what it is–an imposter–a thought that doesn’t belong here. Or is at least one that’s no longer welcome. In it’s place I’m thinking, This doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve done enough today. Give yourself a break.

The end.