Sometimes it feels like the day is out to get you. Not with disasters — but with a dozen subtle stressors that layer on top of each other until your body is buzzing with tension.

That was me today.

I’d already taken C4. Pre-workout was in my bloodstream but the focus was nowhere to be found.
The house was loud. I was flipping and flapping between things. The food was halfway done. The kids were halfway settled. My mother had called to talk about house selling and moving — again. And just when I thought the pressure couldn’t spike higher, I heard travellers had moved into the field nearby.

A familiar tightness crept up my back. That edge.

I’ve learned not to ignore it. I’ve also learned not to explode. I apologised to my Mother, walked out of the kitchen and straight to the bedroom.

Headphones in. Legendary by Welshly Arms.

Stand tall. Deep breath. Shoulders back. I close my eyes, rub my head, let the bass drop… and I drop with it.

Not into despair — into movement.

This is no regular workout. This is ritual. Release. Resistance bands in hand. I row hard, I jump, I brace, I breathe. I activate the TVA. I hit my lats. I empty the emotional bucket one set at a time.

I’m not here to get lean. I’m here to get free.

When it’s done, I sit.

I don’t feel tired. I feel back. Present. Stable. The pressure is gone. My system has reset. And I can walk back to my family whole again.

This is why I train.

Not just for muscle.

But for mental sovereignty.