The other day a reader replied to me asking me about a throwaway line where I mentioned getting motivation from body dysmorphia.
He wanted to know if I was serious.
100% serious as a rattlesnake bite.
Let me tell you a story about Matt at age 18.
I’d started lifting to get out of an organic chemistry class that I was failing because I checked out of high school in my final year and made a habit of playing hooky.
Back then, the idea of Matt in a gym, in a weight room, lifting weights, was almost a joke. I wasn’t keeping records back then but I remember weighing under 130 pounds.
It didn’t help that I trained like every other dumb teenager: inconsistently, following stupid advice from other dumb teenagers and “the guy at the gym” who didn’t know what he was doing either.
The desire to escape that unwanted self pushed me forward, though. I stayed at it, getting my first gym membership and training the whole summer after finishing high school, and never really quit. Stubborn consistency was enough to win out over my total ignorance. I put on a good 20 pounds, on a frame that was already malnourished and underweight, and it was enough to hook me.
No matter how big I got, or how much I lifted, that image of myself as an underweight, scrawny kid never left me.
It was there even in 2006, at my absolute largest and strongest, when I weighed 225 pounds, deadlifted six plates, casually squatted mid-400s for reps in street clothes, and a nurse told me my heart was dangerously enlarged because of all the extra mass I was carrying. I shrugged when she told me that. I wasn’t going to change anything. The feelings of anger and inadequacy around feeling small were way too strong.
It’s been a real long time since both of those stories. Decades later, that picture of myself and all the dark energy surrounding it are always there.
My past choices are not a blueprint.
Much of what I did was inadvisable, not to mention dangerous and reckless, coming from a place of unacknowledged hurt and an unwillingness to face up to ugly parts of myself. Stupid things can make a lot of sense when you don’t much care what happens to you.
All that said, those dark places were and are an unrivaled source of jet-fuel.
I don’t think you need to be twisted up inside or consumed by self-loathing in order to succeed in your goals.
But it doesn’t hurt, if you have the self-awareness, the honesty, and the will to use it.
Few things sharpen the mind and keep attention focused on a target so well.
As with all things I preach, the 80/20 “power law” is a useful mental model.
You don’t need to dwell in your dark side. But most everyone has a painful memory that they can tap into for a surge of energy — be it anger, grief, shame, or fear — when interest flags.
Learning to summon that up, to crystallize focus and purpose with the energy of strong emotion, is a powerful tool in my own kit.
Learning to use it, and then put it away, to be more precise.
Frankly, from discussions I’ve had with people I will lovingly call “time wasters”, they have no energy, no drive, no desire to do anything. They’re dabblers who like the idea of doing cool things in the gym, or having a lean, muscular body. When it comes to doing the work to get there, they bring nothing. There’s no energy, no focus, no will behind the idle day-dreaming.
I’d rather coach an enthusiastic head-case than try to coach a day-dreamer into acting.
Pushing a boulder up a hill, hoping it will begin to roll on its own, is not a winning strategy in any part of life.
The results you get, or don’t, have as much to do with your inner life as with the external nuts and bolts of your workout plan and diet. Your inner life is what keeps you focused, centered, and on target.
If you ain’t got it, I can’t give it to you. Nobody can.
But, if there is a secret X-factor missing from your perfect expert-approved workout and nutrition program, that’s where you’ll find it.
Working with the inner “head game” is a key part of my coaching methods. If you’re feeling stuck with your progress and want to know more, send me a message. I can’t promise to help you but we can chat about it.
Matt Perryman