Scream Lifting is Life Changing

Yes, you read that title right. Scream lifting is absolutely life-changing. And one of the best ways I’ve found to relieve stress and anxiety. 

I discovered this little gem, more or less, by accident. 

During the year that Covid basically brought the world to its knees, I had built myself a pretty snazzy power rack out of some wood. I found some weights to buy that didn’t cost an arm and a leg and slapped together a worthy workout station that was much better constructed than my 7th-grade birdhouse. That thing looked like a toddler got ahold of a nail gun and started blind firing into some wood. 

All this work I put forth. The building, the scrounging. Ah, finally, a home gym I could be proud of. At last, I could work on my meat wagon in the comfort of my cold and unwelcoming concrete basement.

Alas, this glorious power rack just became a nice wooden display rack for the weights I had just bought. I don’t think I used them more than once. 

That was until my long-term relationship at the time went and exploded in my face. Oh, what perfect timing. The entire world was shut down, and now I had the privilege of toughing it out alone. Yay me.

Being single during Covid was rough. I mean tying yourself up and getting pulled by a horse down a gravel road rough. The isolation. The fear. The conspiracies. All this compounded for so many, including myself. 

Being alone gave me time to think. And think. And think some more. Until I’d work myself down a black hole of thinking so deep that I would paralyze myself with anxiety. I believe Mark Manson calls this the Feedback Loop from Hell. Can confirm, this felt like my personal Hell. 

To drown out some of the excess thinking, I took up the classic and sophisticated hobby of consuming a bottle of cheap wine a day. Nothing more than $9 a bottle for I was quite the baller on a budget. On top of drinking copious amounts of wine, I went and had myself a Jimmy Buffet moment and recreated Margaritaville in my shower because fuck it. Margaritas are delicious. Yes, I was having a margarita every night, in my shower, after I got home from work. Don’t judge me. 

On a side note, I’m curious as to how many people fell down this rabbit hole of drinking cocktails and boxed wine every day during Covid. Single or not. In the history books years later, I can definitely see the borderline crippling and semi-functional forms of alcoholism that Covid brought on being a pandemic within the pandemic.

In one of my Margaritaville moments, I dragged my feet down the six rickety wooden steps into my basement to throw some work clothes in the washer. That’s when I saw this glorious wooden power rack staring right at me, piercing my soul. The power rack shouted at me in a language that I didn’t understand at the time, probably woodish, “DOTH THOU HOIST!” 

Slamming the rest of my margarita back, wiping my face off from all the drink that had missed my mouth, I yelled back, YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DO! But not right now. I gotta sleep this tequila off. 

That next morning, in a mildly hungover stupor, I woke up with that anxious, tight feeling in my chest. No, this wasn’t nausea. I was Jimmy Buffet Jr. There’s no way I was throwing up. This was that feeling that had always been reoccurring daily after my breakup. I just wanted to scream. I was angry I was always feeling this way. I felt like my fuse was ticking and it was only a matter of time before I exploded. 

I recalled that conversation with the power rack I had the night before. Was I that drunk? Jesus, I have a problem. 

I knew that I couldn’t keep drinking like I was. For fuck sake, I have this perfectly safe and secure wooden gym just hanging out all by itself in my basement. With no friends.

So I decided Mr. Wooden-Rack and I were going to be BFFs.  I was going to hoist. 

Doing some quick Googling, I found a random workout program that only required a barbell and I started lifting. I turned on some screaming death metal to help guide this journey of metal, wood, and myself along.

I arrived at deadlifts toward the end of my workout session and that’s when this overwhelming feeling washed over me. It was anger, it was sadness, it was a feeling of absolute chaos that was coursing through my veins.

I dropped the bar down to the floor to finish the rep. On the next rep, struggling to pick the bar up, I just fucking screamed at the top of my lungs. The death metal and screaming living in complete harmony. I hoisted that bar up to my waist for a good twenty seconds, screaming the entire time.

The hulk is screaming
You could say I was turning into the Hulk

This was fucking goosebump-inducing. I could feel the endorphins inside me finally awakening and popping off for the first time in what felt like months. Like, holy shit. All this pent-up aggression, this chaos that had been swimming inside me, just completely melted away at that moment. I felt liberated. 

Finishing up the workout, throat hoarse, body quivering from enduring this beginner’s level workout, the alcohol from the night before dripping out of my pores, I just laid on my cold, concrete floor feeling a sense of peace. 

That workout was a game-changer. I ended up lifting like this for weeks, no bullshit. And every time I did, I felt fucking amazing. This was the therapy that I needed that I wasn’t finding at the bottom of a bottle. 

I had the advantage of having a home gym in my basement and was living alone, but you don’t need weights or a home gym to get your scream on. In fact, to avoid the weird looks in the gym or having those pretentious clunk alarms sounding off, just crank some tunes in your car, find a spot to park, and just scream at the top of your lungs. I mean, just let it all out.

If you’re going through some shit, life has been punching you right in the mouth over and over again, and you wake up every morning with that same anxiety-fueled knot that lives in your chest just like I did, I highly recommend you give this screaming business a try. You won’t regret it.

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