More Than a Workout: Building Mental Strength in the Gym
As I reflect on my healing journey, I view it as a series of layers, each one establishing a foundation not only for survival but for thriving. Alongside the four pillars I frequently discuss, I’ve also built a toolbox: a collection of practices, habits, and lifelines gathered through trial, error, and grace. One of the most powerful tools has been the gym.
In 2014, I entered an unfamiliar world, burdened by shame and feeling alone. At the encouragement of my pastor and new psychiatrist, I nervously walked into Gold’s Gym, now Valley Fitness, carrying a deep sense of insecurity. As someone who had always avoided physical activity, the gym felt overwhelming and intimidating. I wasn’t looking to gain strength or speed; I was searching for mental clarity. To my surprise, I found more than just equipment and weights. I discovered a supportive community that welcomed me with warmth and acceptance rather than judgment. The sauna became my refuge. Its intense heat surrounded me like a protective shield, calming my restless mind and offering a peace I could not explain.
Over time, Valley Fitness became an integral part of my healing journey. There, I met Twila Showalter, a cycle instructor whose vibrant energy and compassion reshaped my attitude toward fitness. I arrived in oversized shorts, feeling out of place, yet Twila saw me immediately. She taught me to engage my core, a cycle tip that doubled as a metaphor for grounding myself in therapy and life. Her classes, alive with music and movement, turned the dim cycle room into a safe space where I could release unvoiced pain.
Twila’s playlists sparked my love for cycling, but her kindness left a lasting impact. I’ll always remember when she played “Gone” by Montgomery Gentry, and at the line, “Gone like a soldier in the Civil War, bang, bang,” we exchanged playful finger guns. That brief, lighthearted moment showed me I wasn’t judged, despite the shame I carried. Later, I learned Twila had been battling stage four colon cancer throughout that time. Her compassion, even amid her own struggle, humbled me and revealed a quiet strength I longed to emulate. Twila’s legacy reminds me that she never let her illness define her, and her courage and kindness continue to influence everyone she touched.
The gym also gifted me milestones I never anticipated, like running in 5Ks, not for a medal, but to prove I could use it to release pain and overcome shame. For a time, fitness became my top priority. I was in the best shape of my life, strong and confident, uplifted by people who knew my name and accepted me as I was.
I also learned important limitations. Fitness alone cannot manage bipolar disorder. Medication remains vital. Lamictal and Prozac provide the steady foundation I need each day, while Klonopin serves as an as-needed tool when anxiety or mania surge. Yet the gym helps me keep those doses lower, acting like a supportive companion easing the journey rather than replacing essential care. The sauna, in particular, is not a cure but gently shifts my brain chemistry enough to make a meaningful difference.
Along the way, instructors introduced me to electronic music. Artists like Tiësto, Martin Garrix, David Guetta, and Skrillex transformed workouts into exhilarating release. This musical energy even inspired me to explore festivals like Tomorrowland and Ultra. For me, music and movement became yet another powerful avenue of healing.
Routine itself turned into a form of medicine: Tuesday and Thursday cycle classes, the calm of Sunday yoga, and the steady peace of the sauna. These rhythms offered stability and purpose, helping reduce my reliance on medication over time. Healing, I’ve come to realize, does not come from one grand act but from the accumulation of small steps, a short walk, a few minutes in the sauna, or a shared laugh with a gym friend.
The greatest gift the gym has given me goes far beyond the workouts or the rush of endorphins; it is the opportunity to consistently show up and find mental clarity that anchors me. Since I first started in 2014, it has been a constant in my life, much like the important relationships we all hold onto. Even when life gets busy and I miss a week or two, the simple act of being mindful, accepting those moments, and returning, whether to walk laps, use the treadmill, or just sit in the sauna, reminds me that this space, the energy it holds, and the community around me are vital to my balance and wellbeing. Valley Fitness continues to teach me that persistence is key in managing my mental health. It has become not just a gym but a place of healing and strength.
Not everyone can afford a gym, and some prefer the privacy of working out at home rather than being around others. A gym membership isn’t necessary to stay active, especially now that technology makes home movement so easy. With countless apps, online workout videos, and virtual classes, it’s simple to access guided routines and turn any space into a personal fitness area. Beyond tech-based workouts, I’ve realized that movement doesn’t have to be structured or complicated. Sometimes I turn on an Apple Music playlist and dance around my living room. I love the “Cha Cha Slide” when I’m feeling sluggish and need instruction, or “Shake It Off” to Taylor Swift when I have energy to burn and make up the moves as I go. Another favorite is “Cotton Eyed Joe,” which reconnects me to happy life memories. Once I start, the music helps me reconnect. Sometimes it evokes good memories, and other times it releases stress or negative energy. It’s fun, freeing, and instantly lifts my mood. Walking around the neighborhood, climbing stairs, stretching in bed before getting up, or even doing chores with extra energy all count as movement too.
Whether you’re in a gym like Valley Fitness, on a neighborhood walk, or dancing to a favorite song in your living room, movement can be a deeply personal and transformative part of healing. I’m endlessly grateful for the role my gym has played in my life, but I also know that the power of movement isn’t limited to one space. What matters most is finding what feels good to you, something that brings joy, clarity, or even just a little relief on a tough day. Your path doesn’t need to mirror mine. It could be ten minutes of stretching, a song that makes you smile, or a quiet walk to clear your mind. Whatever form it takes, make it yours. Movement, in any way you choose, is enough and can be one of the most beautiful ways to nurture your mind, body, and soul. I love going to the gym because it’s a space full of shared energy, where seeing everyone working toward the same goal inspires and motivates me.
Click here if you would like to read more about my story, From Chaos to Strength: My Bipolar Journey to Healing and Redemption.
