Gym Rat Diaries

I have abandoned my practice, my routine, my diet, my heart.   I have lost the connection to the part of me that begs to be authentic.  My quest for my truth continues.  I search and explore other aspects of my depths that I lost ten years ago when I dove in to a life surrounded by image obsessed masochistic elitists.   Did I become that as well?  Its raining today.  I have no desire to walk into a gym. No motivation to dive into the idea of creating muscle and burning fat and sweating and losing my breath and listening to juice heads grunt or women complain about their fat asses, cheating husbands and c-sections that made their stomachs look like bowls of jello.  I think it's that on my days away from the asylum I long to be disconnected to anything that remotely feels like this sea of insanity that I swim in.  My question is what is that makes me authentic that after I lead a practice that I can not even go to anymore that people come to me and tell me that I bring them "there" that I touch them in away that inspires them, the words I utter resonate.  They sense my authenticity.  I am lost yet I have direction.  But, I feel as though my path is so crowded with so many bumps and obstacles that I get caught up 10 feet behind where I should be..... My hours are not long enough yet they exhaust and drain me ... my days are incomplete yet so full.   What inspires me to write this?  To be this honest?  I think it is that I don't want to be alone in this....... I don't want to believe that I am doing this for nothing.  If I write this to you, the reader, then I exist.