Today felt a little different.
I’ve only recently started getting back into the gym, and while my strength isn’t where it used to be, I’m enjoying the process. There’s something reassuring about focusing on the basics again: good form, completing the set, and accepting that progress takes time.
One thing that did make me laugh was the Friday afternoon gym crowd. There seemed to be an unofficial competition underway to see who could load the most weight, perform three heroic reps, and then throw the weights at the floor with maximum drama. Several of them looked like they’d spent so much time working on their upper bodies that leg day had become more of a rumour than a scheduled event.
Meanwhile, I quietly got on with my workout and left with all my joints still functioning.
The gym wasn’t the thing that stuck with me most, though.
Earlier in the day, I was leaving the pharmacy when a short, stocky bloke smiled at me. Maybe he was just having a good day. Maybe he was being friendly. Maybe he thought I was cute. The truth is I’ll never know.
What struck me was that I noticed.
Over the last few months, life has felt smaller than I would have liked. Anxiety has a way of narrowing your focus until you’re mostly concentrating on getting through the day. But lately I’ve started noticing things again. People. Attraction. Possibility.
I’ve also found that writing about sexuality, attraction, and intimacy has been unexpectedly helpful. Not because I’ve suddenly become obsessed with sex, but because it has helped me reconnect with parts of myself that have been quiet for a long time.
I still don’t have all the answers. I don’t know exactly where this journey leads. But perhaps I don’t need to.
- Maybe it’s enough to notice a smile.
- Maybe it’s enough to enjoy a workout.
- Maybe it’s enough to acknowledge that parts of me are waking up again.
Small signs of life are still signs of life.
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