Body is the temple

Workouts, proper nutrition, and a sleep routine. My mom taught me from childhood that my body is a temple, and a temple should be treated with respect.

Sports have been a part of my life since pretty early on. Thank God, I have patience when I need it. Oh, and I’m also someone with an eating disorder – ED. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.

When I was around 17, I was taken to the gym for the first time. A student, so no fancy Instagram-worthy gym, just a regular "iron dungeon" packed with weights. My first trainer - pure gold. He built such a solid muscle base for me that even if I ditch the gym for six months, I get back in shape within a month after returning. I used to train four times a week, carried my meals in containers, and memorized the macros and calories of every possible product. A blessing and a curse. I can always tell how many calories are on my plate—margin of error close to zero. I barely eat carbs, and the bread I have is mostly protein-based. I know a hundred healthy baking recipes. I have to have something sweet at home, always. It keeps my brain calm - it knows it can get sugar anytime, so no breakdowns. But if my "healthy" self went grocery shopping and didn’t bring anything "forbidden" home, the countdown to an explosion begins: 5, 4, 3...

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I've lived like this my whole conscious life, and I’m fine. Just sometimes I think about girls who can casually eat pizza at night without worrying about "working it off" in the gym tomorrow. Lucky them.

I've done running, stretching, Pilates, functional training, boxing. The only things that really stuck were boxing and the regular gym. Boxing - hmm, how do I explain this? It completely unloads my nervous system. While my body is at training, my mind takes a nap. Negative emotions, fear, anger, laziness - all of it goes into the punching bag. That’s how I find my peace and calm.

The gym? It's my base, my habit, my golden standard. I always come back to it, like that one "fatal" ex who’s always happy to see me, no matter how long the break was. We both know this thing is for life, probably till the very end.

Thinking about adding stretching back into my routine—miss being able to do splits. A moment of silence, please. The flexibility is still there, the body remembers, but it’s not quite the same without regular practice.

The body is a temple, and as a narcissist, I take care of mine. Could do it better, but we all have our little weaknesses, right?