"Anxiety, BMF, and Me"

I hate the gym. Not an uncommon phrase I know, but I suffer with anxiety, and as a result have a genuine, teeth chattering fear of the place. I always had that sense of impending doom walking in to any gym, worrying that I’d show myself up or that the regulars would suss me out as being frightfully out of shape. They say if you try something 10 times, you start to like it – I think that might only be the case for things like broccoli or olives, as I really did persevere in the hope of catching that gym bug that everyone harps on about. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

The pre-class tremors and tightening of the chest at the mere smell of a gym was wearing me down, but the straw that broke this camel’s back was a PT telling me I was ‘wobbly’ – that judgement I’d feared was looking right back at me and I decided that it was one thing to push myself, but another to make myself unhappy. It just didn’t feel worth it anymore and I left. As good as quitting the gym felt, I was suddenly full of worry about what I’d do next. I love pizza way too much to not exercise.

I found BMF through an Instagram ad. The mix of people and the fact that everyone looked like they were having a great time piqued my interest and I quickly signed up for a free session in my local park, Tooting Bec. Booking was easy, turning up was another story. I spent the hour before leaving my house in tears, anticipating the looks I’d get when I couldn’t keep up, the way people would laugh at me or lose patience with me when I held the group up. With my anxiety, I’m often playing referee between my logical mind and my anxious mind. Thankfully, logic won this round and I made it to the session.

I shan’t lie to you, I almost threw up during that first session, but it didn’t stop me having a blast. Yes, I was slower than others and yes people laughed, but we laughed as a group and they cheered me on when I was lagging behind. I finished the class absolutely buzzing and signed up straight away.

It’d be wrong for me to say that BMF has cured my anxiety (if only it were that easy), in fact quite recently I had a huge panic attack halfway through a session. For me, this was my worst case scenario – panic attacks can leave you feeling so vulnerable and exposed, so to have one in public is almost unthinkable. This was a full-blown eyes-bulging, grass-gripping attack – not private, pretty or quiet in any way. I was looked after by our instructor quickly and calmly whilst ensuring no attention was drawn to me. Thanks to everyone in the class and their subtle pats on the back I was able to recover in record time and finish the session. So clearly, I’m by no means cured, but BMF has helped an awful lot.

Those endorphins are undeniable, they can take the edge off of many a bad day, and the feeling of not only finishing a class, but feeling yourself improve each time is one of the best around. Running becomes less of an extreme sport, reps become easier (ish), and you feel less like you’ve been hit by a bus the next day – it’s more of a bump from a Ford KA. The results are also hard to ignore; If I was actually wobbly before, I’m certainly less so now, but that’s only part of what keeps me going. My confidence has increased tenfold, my anxiety is under control more than ever before (aside from the odd annoying blip ^^), and I generally have more of a spring in my step.

I would urge anybody suffering with anxiety to have a go. Push through those irrational thoughts and get involved, I challenge you not to be laughing at least by the water break. I have so much to thank British Military Fitness for as a whole, but more importantly I owe a lot of this new sunshiney version of myself to my fellow ‘troops’ at Tooting Bec, and our incredibly patient instructor Ash, who puts up with every whinge about the weather, and every burpee-related grumble.

Guest Post by Leona Tooley, BMF Tooting