I Cried in the Car – And That’s Where It All Started | The Reasonable Adjustment

Hearty and Wholesome To Start The Week – Published in The Reasonable Adjustment, 28 July 2025

I remember the first time I walked into a gym, this was only a couple of years ago now – but I’m writing this in the hope it could make an impact on somebody else.

I’d spent years telling myself I would. Built it up in my head like some kind of personal redemption arc. But when I actually stepped inside? It didn’t feel like a new chapter. It felt like I had regressed back to being the child who was terrified of the world.

I lasted maybe 20 minutes.

Messed around on the treadmill for five minutes. Fumbled my way through some daft-looking exercise I’d seen online – skullcrushers, if memory serves (unsure why that was the one I opted for as someone with dyspraxia, might I add). Looked at myself in the mirror. Thought I looked like a complete idiot, and probably did look like a complete idiot.

Then I left. Sat in the car. And cried. The big scary criminal, the one who was called a medium risk to the public, cried after going to the gym for 20 minutes.

Backed Into a Corner

I don’t tell that story for sympathy. I tell it because that was the turning point. Not some perfect Instagram moment with inspirational music – just me, shaking, alone, in a car park, realising: I can’t stay like this.

I felt like an animal backed into a corner. Trapped in my own mind. I didn’t even want a six-pack or to “get hench.” I just needed something to change. A light at the end of the tunnel. A feeling of movement. Something to work towards. New science, theories, and outlooks to discover.

Wisdom from the Most Unexpected Places

Back in 2010–2011, I used to play a lot of World of Warcraft. I was still pretty young, and most nights you’d find me sat in Ventrilo with the guild – talking about the game, laughing about stupid stuff, just escaping for a while.

One of the guys I played with during my early days was Portuguese – heavy accent, obsessed with anime, had a cat that used a litter tray under his bed. He was a bit rough around the edges, spoke in riddles, swore like it was punctuation. Underneath all that? He was a genuinely good guy, although very direct and the epitome of disagreeable – but that’s why I liked him. Anyway, every so often he’d drop something serious – and when he did, it landed.

I remember moaning about life one night – can’t even remember what exactly. Just that stuck feeling. Directionless. Waiting for something to change without doing much about it – laughable given I was only 12/13 at the time. It would’ve been something completely inconsequential, too. I might’ve even been crying about having to farm Netherwing rep for the drake mount, even though it was two expansions out of date by that point. Whatever it was, I was spiralling. And he just cut through it – offhand, kind of joking but not really – sighed at me and said:

“God helps those who help themselves.”

It stayed with me for the best part of 15 years. It’s a shame that I only began to truly appreciate the significance of what he was saying after making bad decisions and failing to take initiative.

It’s basically the spiritual version of: “No one’s coming. You’ve got to move first.”

No One Can Lift It For You

That one gym session didn’t change me.

But it broke something loose. The belief that I needed to “be ready” before I tried. That I had to already be strong, confident, or experienced to start the process.

Turns out, starting is the process. Failing awkwardly is still forward.

You can lead a horse to water – sure. But if it refuses to drink, it stays thirsty. You can give someone every resource, every plan, every tool – but unless they choose to act, none of it matters.

Change doesn’t come from having all the answers. It comes from standing in your own mess, crying in the car, and going back anyway.

Final Word

The gym didn’t become easy. Life didn’t magically improve. But I started learning the most important lesson there is:

Self-pity won’t save you. Self-accountability might.

Whether it’s fitness, recovery, healing, purpose – nobody can walk the road for you. You’ve got to take the first step, even if your legs are shaking.

Even if you cry in the car.