Most days, I can’t look to the right.
Like, literally. My neck won’t let me. Cervical dystonia has a mind of its own—it twists my head involuntarily, pulls it to the left, and makes it impossible to hold my head straight (insert your own “not that kind of straight” joke here)—let alone work out, drive, or function comfortably in public spaces. The pain is a constant companion. Sometimes it’s dull and manageable, other times it’s sharp, intense, and downright unbearable.
Hell, that’s one of the reasons I work remotely. On rough days, showing up physically just isn’t an option. But mentally? I always show up. It’s not about convenience. It’s about creating the space I need to do my best work and give my best support—wherever I am, whatever I’m dealing with.
I don’t always talk about it—because honestly, I’m not sure people understand. Or maybe they do, and I’m just afraid of what they think. Will they notice the involuntary tics? The odd head tilt? The way I use one arm to prop my head up while eating (and I gotta mention that Taco Tuesdays are a real challenge when your head won’t cooperate when trying to eat a taco)? Will they think I’m rude if I don’t turn to look at them when they speak? Will they assume I’m distracted, aloof, or worse?
On the surface, I might look fine. But the truth is, fine is a performance a lot of us have perfected. Especially those of us living with chronic pain, invisible conditions, or mental health struggles that don’t show up on the outside—or show up only just enough to make us feel like we need to explain or apologize for them.
The Emotional Toll of an Invisible Battle
It’s not just about the physical strain. The emotional toll hits just as hard—sometimes harder. It’s the daily mental negotiation. The hyper-awareness. The frustration of feeling like your body won’t cooperate. The anxiety about being seen, judged, misunderstood. The fear that you’re being “too much,” or not enough.
As gay men over 40, many of us have been taught to hide our struggles, to mask vulnerability, and to push ourselves to meet impossible standards. We’ve lived through a lot. We’ve earned the right to show up as we are—messy, imperfect, brilliant, and bold.
The Shift: Reclaiming Power and Permission
I spent years trying to power through it all. I’d ignore the pain, overtrain, and pretend it didn’t affect me. I convinced myself that pushing harder meant I was strong. But it only left me feeling defeated and disconnected—from my body and from myself.
The shift wasn’t immediate. In fact, it took me many years to get to where I am now. My partner’s support helped, but what I really needed was someone outside the relationship—a coach or mentor—to help me process the mental and emotional toll, to guide me without judgment, and to help me listen to and respect my body rather than fight it.
That’s exactly the kind of support I offer now as a coach—because I know how life-changing it can be. We don’t just build habits. We rebuild relationships—with our bodies, our identities, and our expectations of what strength really looks like.
Redefining Strength (Because Damn, We Deserve To)
Strength isn’t always about what you lift or how you look. It’s showing up when your body’s fighting you. It’s choosing movement that feels good instead of punishing yourself for not doing more. It’s learning to pause when you need to—without guilt.
For so long, I believed that vulnerability made me weaker. I’ve since learned that owning my vulnerability is what makes me stronger. And when I’m honest about what I’m navigating, it gives others permission to do the same. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience. That’s connection.
You know what? As we get older, we gain something the younger versions of ourselves never had—perspective. We stop chasing perfection and start prioritizing what really matters: energy, longevity, confidence, and joy.
Practical Fitness Adaptations: Real-Life Strategies
For me, this means taking advantage of the window of time each day when I feel my best—usually a few hours after I wake up. That’s when I get my workouts in, because waiting until later often means I won’t be able to do it at all.
It also means adapting how I move. Some days, I strength train. Other days, it’s a walk, or stretching, or dancing my way through a cardio session like a full-blown concert in my own head.
(Seriously—if you’ve seen me at the gym whisper-singing and air-drumming on the elliptical, no you didn’t. 😂 Want to know why I do it? I wrote about that https://www.dmn.fit/groove-your-way-to-gains-the-secret-to-unstoppable-workouts/ in my post about powering through workouts. Spoiler: music helps me block out pain and push through the mental noise.)
Even my nutrition choices flex with my energy levels. If I’m having a tough day, I simplify things—nourishing my body without making it another source of stress. And when I meet new people, I often break the ice by joking, “If you’re on my right and I don’t turn to look at you, it’s not personal—I literally can’t.”
You’re Stronger Than You Know
I know your challenge looks different than mine. We all have our own—visible or not. But I also know you’ve survived more than you give yourself credit for. You’ve got a lot more strength in you than you think.
It’s not about perfection. It’s about consistency. Compassion. Creativity.
It’s about rewriting what “healthy” and “fit” look like for you.
It’s about building habits that honor your body, your energy, and your life.
The DMNFIT Difference: You Belong Here
At DMNFIT, I don’t chase unrealistic ideals or follow rigid rules. I meet you where you are—with humor (when needed), compassion, and evidence-based guidance. I focus on building habits that fit your life, and help you feel supported, seen, and strong AF.
If you liked this article, check out my piece on Social Physique Anxiety and how it shows up for gay men in fitness spaces. That one’s a must-read if you’ve ever second-guessed yourself while trying to focus on your health.
Let’s Stay Connected
I’d love to hear your story—what you’re navigating, where you’re thriving, or what support you’re looking for right now. Shoot me an email or connect with me on Instagram or Facebook. Or, if you happen to see me in the gym (Planet Fitness, Howell, MI) in the mornings, introduce yourself.
You’re not alone in this.
You never were.
Your presence—however imperfect—is perfectly enough.
And we find that strength together, as a community.