We human beings are so incredibly hilarious.
I mean, here I am, just back from the gym. My hair is still wet - sauna, hot shower the whole damn thing.
Oh man! Paradise that is. It feels amazing!
I feel so good that is difficult to put words on it but, let’s say that, if I had a husband I would show up at his office right now and give him a before-lunch blowie.
That’s the level we’re talking about. Full endorphin explosion💥
I’m walking proof that sweat, heat and weight lifting are better than Prozac.
I have done glutes today (for a boob-less babe, it is important to look after her main asset🍑, right?).
So here’s the question:
Why the actual fuck am I not doing this more often?
Why do I spend more time avoiding the gym than just going and getting high on my own chemicals?
Someone explain it to me like I’m five.
Because if:
GYM = “horny, happier, goddess-mode self”
and
NO GYM = “meh, same old slightly disgusted self”
…then why do I keep choosing the second option?!
Are we dumb?
Yes. I think we are. I am😣
How does one become addicted to this feeling?
By repetition - so they say - creating the habit - so they say again.
But how are you going to repeat if you don’t wanna go in the first place 😣?
Wait! 💡 I know what happens here!
I think I’m addicted to not going.
Addicted to the internal whining.
To the drama of the moan.
To that weird masochistic ritual of “I should go” and then not going.
Hmm. That’s... suspicious.
Because here’s something I heard the other day that actually hit me in the gut (or was it the glutes?):
Our addictions are clues.
Like, big ones. Sacred breadcrumbs.
Not just shameful behaviors we’re supposed to “fix” and “heal” and never talk about at dinner.
Nah.
They’re signs.
Wherever you’re obsessively focusing your energy (yes, even if it’s on porn, alcohol, or doom-scrolling) you’re telling the universe something:
This is what captures me.
This is what gives me a pulse.
This is where my nervous system still says YES.
That’s not weakness. That’s a compass.
It means you’re still in there somewhere.
Your energy isn’t gone. It’s just being misused.
And the real tragedy isn’t that you’re addicted to porn or vodka or Netflix, it’s that you haven’t found anything more meaningful to obsess over yet.
Addiction vs purpose
Purpose? (Ugh, I hate that word a little too, but let's go with it.)
Purpose isn’t some angel descending from the clouds whispering,
“You’re meant to be a healer, Kevin.”
Purpose is:
“What can I get addicted to… that actually makes my life better?”
That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
You don’t fight addiction by shutting it down.
You bless it.
You thank it for showing you what fire feels like.
And then you redirect that fire 🔥 toward something that feeds you back.
And no, it won’t always feel magical at first. Sometimes you’ll need to fake it.
Just like with the gym (going even when you don’t wanna go).
And eventually, you get hooked on the after-feeling.
That must be the move.
Repeat the thing until that becomes a new addiction.
A new ritual.
A new obsession.
Because let me tell you something (actually I am telling this whole damn thing to myself, you’re just reading it):
Your body knows.
Your soul knows.
And that meat suit of yours? It was never designed to coast through life half-awake and scrolling.
So bless your addictions.
Bless my ass.
And go find something worth being obsessed with.
I could be an option by the way, I am cool and smart and sexy so sign up for my OF with a discount now clicking here.
Love,
Rose 🌹