I scanned my card, put down the gym bag, and realized I'd forgotten my headphones.

I noticed the pain more than usual. When you’re lifting weights, it’s just you, the weight, and whatever motivation your brain can produce. Mine prefers little shit talk.   Then I finish the set.  There was no music filling my ears. I became immediately aware of the world around me.

 People could see me. Were they going to be impressed by how much weight I put up? Did they notice that I failed that last rep? Did they even know I was there at all?   I wasn’t hidden in my world of distraction.

I looked around the gym - and not just to see any cute women. Some lifted weights while others worked on ellipticals, completely absorbed in the movement. Then, after a short burst of exercise, they stared at their phones.  They could have been recording their workouts, changing the music, resting, or dealing with the awkwardness of working out in public.

There I was, visible to everyone, though no one seemed to notice. I felt naked and alone. Part of me wanted people to be impressed, but I was also afraid of being judged—or ignored. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with any of it. Then I realized that this was how I looked 99% of the time at the gym. The same was true anywhere I sat glued to my phone while surrounded by people.

Recently, a friend noticed some changes in me and asked how I was doing. I responded, “I’m going through some stress and trying to change some things.” I could have said, ‘I’m stepping back from a lot because things aren’t working.’ I certainly didn’t say, ‘I don’t feel like I know or trust myself anymore.’  My mind said that conversation was too heavy.  Rather than risk rejection, I made their decision for them and kept what I was really feeling to myself. Instead, I distracted us with all the cool new things I had started doing to ‘change things.  Vulnerability avoided. Loneliness preserved.

We don’t need to bare our souls at the gym. Still, eye contact, a nod, a quick hello, or genuine interest might make the world feel slightly more connected.

For years, I thought distraction was something I had to beat. While I call it a foe, I’m starting to realize that often distraction has a purpose. It lets me control how much of me is visible. Distraction protects me from risking being rejected, dismissed, or exposed. For far too long, I’ve hidden inside distraction.

Drew

P.S. What are some ways you find yourself distracted?

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