Gym Socialization Reflection

Hi everyone! This is the biggest nerd in Bakersfield reaching out. I’ve been reflecting on my experiences at the gym and how it feels like nobody talks to me there. I’ve been going to Planet Fitness for almost eight years, yet it seems like every time I go, I don’t seem to exist—as if I could drop dead right there and no one would notice. I know for a fact that I’m the only person who has been consistently attending that gym for 8 to 9 years without getting to know anyone, not even their pet dog. Part of the reason for going to a gym, or even for existing on earth for that matter, is social interaction, right? But wherever I go, it feels like I don’t matter. Even at work, it seems like everyone intentionally ignores me. When I have a suggestion, they act like they don’t care, even though I know I’m right. For example, I tried to tell my coworker Gus at the group home where I work that he should document the exact time he administers medication rather than using a fabricated time to make it look like he’s following protocol. If he can pass meds an hour early, then he should record that time instead of claiming he passed them on time. He pretended not to hear me and didn’t seem to care. I have almost 20 years of experience as a caregiver and nearly 8 years as a certified medical assistant, yet it feels like my input is disregarded. A total stranger who is probably an ex-con with far less experience will suggest something, and they follow it to the letter, high-fiving him to boot! At the gym, I work out harder than anyone else, and the only feedback I get is strangers yelling at me to “stop working so hard.” I also feel constantly gaslit and labeled as a psycho. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m somehow on an imaginary short list of people that everyone at Planet Fitness wants kicked out. I can see the looks of disdain and anger and possibly jealousy directed at me, while everyone else seems to know each other. I think it might stem from a comment I made on the treadmill talking to myself once. No one talks to me right? So I might as well talk to myself. I made a comment about how a lot of these male gym goers look so freakingjacked from the neck down but look like an 80-year-old grandpa from the neck up, with gray, balding hair and wrinkles, and I said I’ve been hitting the gym as long as they have, yet I look like a 20-year-old from the neck up, with a full head of hair and no wrinkles. So, I said out loud, “Why?”  Because of that comment, I have this nagging suspicion that all the gym patrons, especially the men, want to isolate me until I break down, and then when I lash out in isolation, I’d be kicked out for being the “psycho.” It’s disheartening because I’ve seen ex-cons walk into that same gym, someone who may have been in prison for serious crimes—who’s welcomed with open arms and treated as a friend. As a “Chosen One,” I will always hate people! Till Next Time! MAHALO!