I'm paying for a Gym that I don't use
How I Became a Gym Membership Hoarder (And Why I’m Finally Going Back—Sort Of)
I have a secret. It's not the sort of thing you share over dinner, and honestly, I'm not looking for sympathy. Here it is: I’ve been paying for a gym membership I don’t use.
Cancelling it feels like surrendering. Like admitting I’m not the person I thought I would be, or at least, not yet. I’m right in the middle of this big, messy reinvention of myself, and part of me thinks that if I give up now, I’ll have wasted all the “potential” I convinced myself I had.
A year ago, I was the person who actually went to the gym. I’d do spin classes, I’d find balance in work and life, and it felt easy. Or at least, I made it look that way. Now, my gym membership is just a line on my bank statement, quietly judging me while I binge-watch Netflix and surround myself with takeaway boxes.
And as much as I hate to admit it, everyone was right, wasn’t they? About turning 25, about how everything falls into place, and how exercise really does make you feel better. It’s like I’m being held hostage by everything I used to roll my eyes at. Could I please just have a few more years to be a mess?
So yes, it’s been a while. A while since I thought about picking up a dumbbell or pretending I knew what I was doing in legs, bums, and tums class. But despite all my excuses, the gym still calls to me. It’s like a quiet whisper in the back of my mind, reminding me of what I could be doing if I just got off my arse.
I know that once I do go back, I’ll feel better. I’ll leave with sore muscles in that oddly satisfying way and mentally prepared to take on the day ahead. But here’s the thing: I can’t seem to make myself go.
The thought of the gym feels so different from the reality. It’s everything I love to avoid self-consciousness, judgment (real or imagined), and the feeling that everyone else knows exactly what they’re doing while I don’t. You know that feeling, right? Like you’re the only person in a room of fit, tanned, coordinated people who has no idea what a rowing machine does, let alone how to use it properly.
I’m not just avoiding the gym. I’m avoiding the feeling of failure. Once I step in, I’ll have to face everything I’ve been putting off: the need to progress, the desire to get stronger, to feel good in my body again. And that voice in the back of my head? It’s saying, “You’ve let yourself slip. You’ll never get back to where you were. Just forget it.” It gets louder with each missed session until it feels like a mountain I’m supposed to climb without a map.
But here’s what I’ve realised in the quiet moments before sleep, when all the “I’ll do it tomorrow” excuses fall apart: I will feel better once I start. I know that because I’ve felt it before. After I push through the initial reluctance and get moving, my muscles wake up and my heart starts pumping. I remember how good it feels to do something for myself no one else, just me taking care of my body in the simplest, most fundamental way.
I’ll probably feel awkward at first fiddling with machines, unsure of which weights to pick up, and convinced everyone is judging me. But I’ll push through. And eventually, I’ll look in the mirror and not cringe. I’ll feel stronger, not just physically, but mentally, too. Taking care of myself is a process, not a destination. That’s something I need to remind myself of.
So here’s the plan: I’m going to do it. I’ll book a class, put on my leggings (which might still have the tags on), and take the first step. It doesn’t matter that it feels uncomfortable or that I’d rather stay in my cosy bubble. I know I’ll be glad I did it after that first class, that first set of squats, or whatever my future self has finally committed to. I’m not aiming for perfection here—just a little effort. A small step. It’s about starting again.
For now, though, I’ll begin by finding a gym playlist. A girl needs to feel inspired
About Twenty Five Reset
Hi, I’m Niamh, and everyone was right—25 really is a turning point. I finally know who I am, what I want, and my purpose… but it’s nothing like I expected.
I work in TV, but it doesn’t define me. This space is my reset—embracing the mess, reflecting, and creating again. You can expect:
Pop Culture and a lot of chats about 2000 - 2020 TV Shows
Links:
I felt this.