Can't sleep, clowns will eat me
Today is the big day. T day. It's 3.16am and I'm wide awake, haven't slept a wink. I was so close to passing out earlier this evening, and now I'm buzzed as fuck because I've let myself think myself up a storm. I can't stop thinking about the future. About what tomorrow could start. What will begin, and what is entirely in my control to create.
This will likely be a strange stream of consciousness. I want to get down all the stuff that's being going through my head for the last two or so hours while I've been unsuccessfully waiting to fall asleep.
So Friday afternoon, roughly 11 hours from now, I'll be at my endo appointment which god willing should be the first testosterone treatment. In typical me-mode, I'm already composing the facebook update. I hate that about the way my mind works. I separated myself from social media quite a bit last summer, I've fallen back into old habits a little. I should at least express that energy on here, where it's more about posterity than instant reaction.
Tomorrow I'd like to go to a barber shop and get a shave. A real wet shave. For two reasons: I want to get rid of my five faithful chin hairs so I can see what sprouts due to the T from scratch. And it is also something I've wanted to do for ages. So imma pamper myself and get a real straight razor shave.
I'm thinking about exercise and working my body and training it. Sculpting it. Building it. That's the most important part: building. I want to build up from these foundations and put myself in the best position for chest surgery, as well as make good habits as early as possible. This is my chance. This is what I've waited for and stood in line for and gone through a full psychological history and diagnosis for. So why not really take the building of this new body upgrade seriously?
It may seem ridiculous or selfish, but I'm considering starting a GoFundMe or something to raise funds to see a strength and boxing coach. Boxing is the exercise I love most. Well, apart from football. But boxing is something that will force me to work physically on my strength and fitness and cardio in a way that fuels me and pumps me up. I feel so motivated when it comes to boxing. And I need someone to hold me in check. And also to teach me to lift properly. I want to start bulking and eating. Chicken breast me up, motherfuckers. The thing is, that is such a luxury with the state of our current budget. We're in the black, but we're treading water pay day to pay day. There's no room to move for something as extravagant as a coach right now. Soon hopefully, but not until autumn I'd say when hopefully finances will change and pick up. Is it silly to ask for help from others?
I've been having dreams where I was playing and training for football with the Chargers. It's hard to think of how amazing this season will be and how great this group of players and coaches is. Hard to remember I'm going to be on the sidelines. But I need to prove to myself that it's worth it. Gotta put myself first, my future first, my dreams first. I've got me some goals. I want to achieve real pull ups by my birthday. I want to squat my body weight. I want to learn discipline and be the best of myself. Make the most of this amazing opportunity that has been dumped in my lap. People would kill to be in my situation, so well supported, loved, stable, safe. I'm the luckiest man in the world. So lets fucking make something of it.
Hmm. How unfortunate. Writing hasn't tired me out one bit. That's not helpful. Perhaps I'll watch some more football. Because when in doubt, football.
This will likely be a strange stream of consciousness. I want to get down all the stuff that's being going through my head for the last two or so hours while I've been unsuccessfully waiting to fall asleep.
So Friday afternoon, roughly 11 hours from now, I'll be at my endo appointment which god willing should be the first testosterone treatment. In typical me-mode, I'm already composing the facebook update. I hate that about the way my mind works. I separated myself from social media quite a bit last summer, I've fallen back into old habits a little. I should at least express that energy on here, where it's more about posterity than instant reaction.
Tomorrow I'd like to go to a barber shop and get a shave. A real wet shave. For two reasons: I want to get rid of my five faithful chin hairs so I can see what sprouts due to the T from scratch. And it is also something I've wanted to do for ages. So imma pamper myself and get a real straight razor shave.
I'm thinking about exercise and working my body and training it. Sculpting it. Building it. That's the most important part: building. I want to build up from these foundations and put myself in the best position for chest surgery, as well as make good habits as early as possible. This is my chance. This is what I've waited for and stood in line for and gone through a full psychological history and diagnosis for. So why not really take the building of this new body upgrade seriously?
It may seem ridiculous or selfish, but I'm considering starting a GoFundMe or something to raise funds to see a strength and boxing coach. Boxing is the exercise I love most. Well, apart from football. But boxing is something that will force me to work physically on my strength and fitness and cardio in a way that fuels me and pumps me up. I feel so motivated when it comes to boxing. And I need someone to hold me in check. And also to teach me to lift properly. I want to start bulking and eating. Chicken breast me up, motherfuckers. The thing is, that is such a luxury with the state of our current budget. We're in the black, but we're treading water pay day to pay day. There's no room to move for something as extravagant as a coach right now. Soon hopefully, but not until autumn I'd say when hopefully finances will change and pick up. Is it silly to ask for help from others?
I've been having dreams where I was playing and training for football with the Chargers. It's hard to think of how amazing this season will be and how great this group of players and coaches is. Hard to remember I'm going to be on the sidelines. But I need to prove to myself that it's worth it. Gotta put myself first, my future first, my dreams first. I've got me some goals. I want to achieve real pull ups by my birthday. I want to squat my body weight. I want to learn discipline and be the best of myself. Make the most of this amazing opportunity that has been dumped in my lap. People would kill to be in my situation, so well supported, loved, stable, safe. I'm the luckiest man in the world. So lets fucking make something of it.
Hmm. How unfortunate. Writing hasn't tired me out one bit. That's not helpful. Perhaps I'll watch some more football. Because when in doubt, football.