Flex @FlexMetaXx - Twitter Profile

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about 1 month ago

The hard truth nobody tells you about bodybuilding…🚨 For years, I thought being tough meant pushing harder. If I was exhausted, I pushed. If I was hungry, I pushed. If my body hurt, I pushed. If I was sick, I pushed. If my body was screaming at me to stop, I convinced myself I just needed more discipline. But there’s another part of my story that I can’t leave out. I became addicted to steroids. I ran cycle after cycle. Some were more extreme than others. I stacked things together without truly understanding—or caring about—the consequences. I was young, obsessed, chasing a physique and a feeling that I couldn’t get enough of. The truth is, the extremes became a high of their own. I loved being muscular. I loved being lean. I loved the vascularity. I loved looking strong. I loved seeing what the human body could become. I know that isn’t everyone’s idea of beauty. But it was mine. It still is. I’m not going to pretend I suddenly hate bodybuilding because I’ve been hurt by it. I don’t. I’ll always be Flex. I’ll always love muscular women. I’ll always appreciate the veins, the muscle, the strength, the absolute insanity of pushing the human body beyond what most people ever thought possible. That part of me isn’t something I can just switch off. But I have to be honest about what that obsession has cost me. Years of hard dieting. Years of pushing my body to extremes. Years of cycles. Years of ignoring warning signs because the goal mattered more to me than the consequences. And somehow, through all of it, I’m still here. I’ve been incredibly lucky that my heart hasn’t stopped. But I also have to be honest enough to say something terrifying: If I keep pushing my body the way I have been, there may come a point where luck runs out. This isn’t about vanity anymore. It’s about life or death. And that’s a fucking hard thing to admit when the thing you’re being asked to walk away from is also the thing that has given you purpose for so much of your life. Because I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am off cycle. I don’t know who I am when I’m not training. I don’t know who I am when I’m not counting food, chasing a pump, looking in the mirror, trying to get leaner, trying to get bigger, trying to become something more. I honestly feel completely lost right now. And that’s probably the hardest truth I’ve ever had to say out loud. I’m trying to find myself underneath all of this. And it has been fucking hard. Because the person I’m trying to find isn’t someone I recognize yet. I know I’ll always miss the high. I’ll always miss the feeling of being completely obsessed. I’ll always want that next level. I’ll always look at a muscular woman and think, fuck, that’s beautiful. That probably isn’t ever going away. But maybe recovery isn’t about becoming someone who doesn’t love bodybuilding. Maybe it’s about learning how to love something without letting it kill you. Maybe I can still be Flex without destroying myself to prove it. Maybe I can still love muscle without sacrificing my health for it. Maybe I can learn to eat without fear. Rest without guilt. Train because I enjoy it instead of because I’m punishing myself. And eventually look in the mirror and see a person, not just a physique. I’ve spent years building my body. Now I have to figure out how to build me. And honestly, I have no fucking idea how to do that yet. But I’m trying. Because I don’t want my story to end with a heart that finally couldn’t take one more cycle, one more extreme diet, one more push. I want there to be a version of Flex who gets to grow old. Maybe that’s the strongest version of me I’ve never met yet. ♥️

FlexMetaXx's tweet photo. The hard truth nobody tells you about bodybuilding…🚨

For years, I thought being tough meant pushing harder.

If I was exhausted, I pushed.
If I was hungry, I pushed.
If my body hurt, I pushed.
If I was sick, I pushed.
If my body was screaming at me to stop, I convinced myself I just needed more discipline.

But there’s another part of my story that I can’t leave out.

I became addicted to steroids.

I ran cycle after cycle. Some were more extreme than others. I stacked things together without truly understanding—or caring about—the consequences. I was young, obsessed, chasing a physique and a feeling that I couldn’t get enough of.

The truth is, the extremes became a high of their own.

I loved being muscular.
I loved being lean.
I loved the vascularity.
I loved looking strong.
I loved seeing what the human body could become.

I know that isn’t everyone’s idea of beauty.

But it was mine. It still is.

I’m not going to pretend I suddenly hate bodybuilding because I’ve been hurt by it. I don’t.

I’ll always be Flex.

I’ll always love muscular women. I’ll always appreciate the veins, the muscle, the strength, the absolute insanity of pushing the human body beyond what most people ever thought possible.

That part of me isn’t something I can just switch off.

But I have to be honest about what that obsession has cost me.

Years of hard dieting.
Years of pushing my body to extremes.
Years of cycles.
Years of ignoring warning signs because the goal mattered more to me than the consequences.

And somehow, through all of it, I’m still here.

I’ve been incredibly lucky that my heart hasn’t stopped.

But I also have to be honest enough to say something terrifying:

If I keep pushing my body the way I have been, there may come a point where luck runs out.

This isn’t about vanity anymore.

It’s about life or death.

And that’s a fucking hard thing to admit when the thing you’re being asked to walk away from is also the thing that has given you purpose for so much of your life.

Because I don’t know who I am without it.

I don’t know who I am off cycle.

I don’t know who I am when I’m not training.

I don’t know who I am when I’m not counting food, chasing a pump, looking in the mirror, trying to get leaner, trying to get bigger, trying to become something more.

I honestly feel completely lost right now.

And that’s probably the hardest truth I’ve ever had to say out loud.

I’m trying to find myself underneath all of this.

And it has been fucking hard.

Because the person I’m trying to find isn’t someone I recognize yet.

I know I’ll always miss the high.
I’ll always miss the feeling of being completely obsessed.
I’ll always want that next level.
I’ll always look at a muscular woman and think, fuck, that’s beautiful.

That probably isn’t ever going away.

But maybe recovery isn’t about becoming someone who doesn’t love bodybuilding.

Maybe it’s about learning how to love something without letting it kill you.

Maybe I can still be Flex without destroying myself to prove it.

Maybe I can still love muscle without sacrificing my health for it.

Maybe I can learn to eat without fear.
Rest without guilt.
Train because I enjoy it instead of because I’m punishing myself.
And eventually look in the mirror and see a person, not just a physique.

I’ve spent years building my body.

Now I have to figure out how to build me.

And honestly, I have no fucking idea how to do that yet.

But I’m trying.

Because I don’t want my story to end with a heart that finally couldn’t take one more cycle, one more extreme diet, one more push.

I want there to be a version of Flex who gets to grow old.

Maybe that’s the strongest version of me I’ve never met yet. ♥️

Joey Swoll

@TheJoeySwoll

about 1 month ago

I was rushed to the hospital Saturday morning for my heart. It’s been a rough few days, I’m still here, but doing much better. Please send some love and prayers. 🙏🏼❤️

TheJoeySwoll's tweet photo. I was rushed to the hospital Saturday morning for my heart. It’s been a rough few days, I’m still here, but doing much better. Please send some love and prayers. 🙏🏼❤️ https://t.co/KuM8MxYZUq

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