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Why we juice....the hidden reasons

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Stugatz

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Kind of a strange topic, but I tend to believe that a lot of people that cycle do it for other reasons than "they just wanna be big". When I was in college I did a sociology report where I conducted anonymous interviews with steroid users, and read into the history of some famous known steroid users. I noticed that most of them had some kind of back story that seemed to link to the reasoning for them using steroids. Whether it be bullying, abuse, sexual abuse, insecurity, drug abuse, etc.


This led me to look into my own reasoning...


While it may not be as extreme as some cases...I discovered the reasons deep in my subconscious for my steroid use, that I didn't even know were the reasons behind it.


I was always a small, skinny, goofy kid. Always had aggression. I had to overcompensate with aggression for my lack of size and strength. I watched my mother (divorced) date a few guys...some who were real assholes to her in front of me and even pushed her around a bit. I had a sister 2 years younger who would bring home scumbag after scumbag. She'd come home with bruises, she got into drugs, etc etc. Having a single mom and a younger sister...I'm supposed to be the protector. Everytime i'd confront one of my sisters boyfriends I'd get my ass handed to me...and they were 2 years younger. It got to me that I was 130lb wimp who couldn't even protect my family. I started lifting at 19....packed on a good 40lbs...and plateaued. Still wasn't big enough to scare people (which is what I wanted to do)...and gains were slowing wayy down. So at 23 I ran my first cycle...and life has improved tenfold ever since.


If anyone would like to share their hidden reasons for cycling...I'd love to hear it. This thread my be a flop....but I found it interesting that sometimes you don't even realize the real reason motivating your life decisions.
 

I was always a small, skinny, goofy kid. Always had aggression. I had to overcompensate with aggression for my lack of size and strength. I watched my mother (divorced) date a few guys...some who were real assholes to her in front of me and even pushed her around a bit. I had a sister 2 years younger who would bring home scumbag after scumbag. She'd come home with bruises, she got into drugs, etc etc. Having a single mom and a younger sister...I'm supposed to be the protector. Everytime i'd confront one of my sisters boyfriends I'd get my ass handed to me...and they were 2 years younger. It got to me that I was 130lb wimp who couldn't even protect my family. I started lifting at 19....packed on a good 40lbs...and plateaued. Still wasn't big enough to scare people (which is what I wanted to do)...and gains were slowing wayy down. So at 23 I ran my first cycle...and life has improved tenfold ever since.

Wow. I just have to come and say that's a very unfortunate story but I am very happy to hear you managed to make through all that and found your happiness in life.
Thanks for sharing.
 
According to one recent article 30% are addicted to using them.

I don't doubt for a second I was any different from other 15 year old teenagers when I started but the bigger and stronger I've got the less of whatever it was the originally drove me and other things keep me at it now. Now, when I use, it's ALWAYS centered around competing.
 
I would not even say it was steroid use, i would say it was weight training in general.. steroids are just a way to get further along so that ties into the overal body image and strength thing
 
I was drawn to SARMs cause I lost all of my muscle mass I built in high school during college. Looking at myself in the mirror became a bummer. Now every time I see somebody I haven’t seen in a while they mention that I look like I’ve been at the gym.
 
You sound similar to me in size Stugatz. I was 18, 5'10 and 120lbs when I started. Gained 30 pounds in about 6 months. Although I didn't take steroids until last year and I'm 46 now. But I also didn't go through all the shit you did. I had shit of my own but nothing like what you went through.

I lost all of the size I had gained a few times due to depression and then having to deal with IBS which would cripple my body every time I would work out too intensely. But I've got all of that under control for the most part now.
 
For me I was fat as hell growing up. Always got made fun of and so finally in HS I started working out except it was all cardio and stuff as I wanted "abs" and got super lean but when I got on the basketball court/football field in college I got pushed around. Thats when I started really weight training and not focusing on losing weight like Ii had always struggled with.

Now im almost 6'9" and I had gotten down to 200 pounds and looked sickly and this was at age 23. I trained hard for around 5 years until i was 28 and that is when the prohormone craze was full speed so started taking Havoc/Epistane, methyl masterdrol, etc. Got stronger but after a few cycles and reading up on prohormones the side effects were clear and stopped them immediately.

At age 32 was when peptides exploded. DatBTrue had his forum and I pumped myself full of plenty of igf-lr3, peg-mgf, cjc, hex, ipa, ghrp2/6, etc.

Then at age 34 really got into sarms (sarms1) and loved the results from them.

At age 36 is when I did my first real cycle of 500mg/test C for 12 weeks and loved it. 38 now and going between sarms, hgh, and AAS.

Really for me was body image at the end of the day. Now im about 6'9" and range between 250-280 pounds when either bulking/cutting.
 
When I coach I often tune into the motivators for people. I also tell them they change over time. Heck, I can change mine from one day to the next. IE: If shit kicks off it's kinda useful to be able to tear limbs off.
 
Wow. I just have to come and say that's a very unfortunate story but I am very happy to hear you managed to make through all that and found your happiness in life.
Thanks for sharing.

You sound similar to me in size Stugatz. I was 18, 5'10 and 120lbs when I started. Gained 30 pounds in about 6 months. Although I didn't take steroids until last year and I'm 46 now. But I also didn't go through all the shit you did. I had shit of my own but nothing like what you went through.

I lost all of the size I had gained a few times due to depression and then having to deal with IBS which would cripple my body every time I would work out too intensely. But I've got all of that under control for the most part now.

After re-reading my first post I realized I may have made it seem worse than it was. I had a great life and a great upbringing. There were some low points but everyone goes through those. My mother didn't date those assholes for long...I hardly remember any of them because they were only around for months at a time before she kicked them out. She is happily married now and my step father is a great guy nowadays.

As for my sister...well she's still trying to find herself. She has a 7yo daughter with a Junkie whom she luckily removed from their lives. She's doing "ok" but still lives at home and my parents are basically raising my niece. But overall things are good and my life was pretty ok. It's just a lot better on AAS :)
 
My jobs have helped (as in how to handle my shit) - a combination of training and experience. However, the being big thing has to help. In the last few weeks myself and work colleagues have had to escort drug taking morons off of our premises (crack, heroin, etc). Thus far - zero physical need to put my hands on or raise my voice. That said 'someone' ended up getting pushed off their bike yesterday (they were a little upset - shit happens) after them and their buddies amused themselves by yanking, banging and kicking on my house door. Me, all 297lbs red faced and raging flying out to use (many many times) the C word was, I suspect, unexpected lol. Two ran away and one is on his ass.
 
My jobs have helped (as in how to handle my shit) - a combination of training and experience. However, the being big thing has to help. In the last few weeks myself and work colleagues have had to escort drug taking morons off of our premises (crack, heroin, etc). Thus far - zero physical need to put my hands on or raise my voice. That said 'someone' ended up getting pushed off their bike yesterday (they were a little upset - shit happens) after them and their buddies amused themselves by yanking, banging and kicking on my house door. Me, all 297lbs red faced and raging flying out to use (many many times) the C word was, I suspect, unexpected lol. Two ran away and one is on his ass.

having talked to you on skype you strike me as a guy who is a gentle giant just don't mess with the beehive with a stick too much or else
 
My jobs have helped (as in how to handle my shit) - a combination of training and experience. However, the being big thing has to help. In the last few weeks myself and work colleagues have had to escort drug taking morons off of our premises (crack, heroin, etc). Thus far - zero physical need to put my hands on or raise my voice. That said 'someone' ended up getting pushed off their bike yesterday (they were a little upset - shit happens) after them and their buddies amused themselves by yanking, banging and kicking on my house door. Me, all 297lbs red faced and raging flying out to use (many many times) the C word was, I suspect, unexpected lol. Two ran away and one is on his ass.

Now I just want to hear more.
 
having talked to you on skype you strike me as a guy who is a gentle giant just don't mess with the beehive with a stick too much or else

I try to be.

One for Darth. This story kinda 'made my name' a little locally. So I live in, as I've said in other posts, what was what the Yanks would call 'a Vets social club (ex army/navy/airforce social club). Not long after I moved in and while I was awaiting change of use from commercial to residential (so club into a BIG home - it's close to 5000 sq ft) I'm awakened by a noise downstairs at around 3am. It's cold, I'm cosy, I don't want to get up. So I say to myself 'another noise and I'll go check'. Sure enough - more noise.

Now looking back I could have taken a weapon but, all things considered, it was better I didn't. I go down one floor and see a door open that I KNOW 100% was shut (it was into a big walk-in cupboard where they stored wine when the club was open). I'd changed a bulb the day before so... anyway I call out 'out you come'. Nothing. I say 'I know you're in there and me getting you out is only gonna make it worse'. Still nothing. I know where the light switch is so I flick it on real quick in case they have a knife or something to hit me with.

Out they come. Hood up, all 5'5 maybe - looks like a druggie and apologizing profusely. Now, lucky for them, I don't go all red mist / forgetting myself (that's only ever happened 2-3x in my life) but I still think 'I'm gonna pound on this mo-fo til my hands ache'. I make a grab and start pulling him about. I'd intended for his head to hit a wall butting out by either way he ends up face down on the floor. I'm in my underpants, socks and t-shirt sitting on his upper back and - oh yes - I pound away at the base of his skull until my hand ached. His face was bouncing of the floor. I yank him up by his belt and make to walk/haul his ass to the ground floor so as to call the police and also had an idea of throwing him down the flight of stairs. Lucky for him when I tried he ran like fuck.

I'm not running around in the dark and rain in my pants so I go back inside and call the police. They were pretty damned good I gotta say. They did NOT note my first comment (''I hit him 30-40 x and the went that-a-way'' lol). They caught him naked in a buddies bath (stripped off so as to try and hide evidence) having been seen by someone walking their dog at 3.30am or so (who the fuck walks their dog that early??). He'd busted my front door lock, set off a fire extinguisher, mixed up two lots of protein, drank and stole some of my booze (one having only been opened the day before and spilled half on the floor when I was pounding on him).

He was out of jail on license so, having been arrested 40 or so minutes after his beating was back in jail by 4pm that day. It went to court where his idiot GF gave me shit outside (I point out he'd take another beating over jail and I was happy to do that if it helped). What was nice, apart from the very cool police, was neighbors and gym buddies who knew who he was (he left behind a letter from his P.O with his name on - plus I found him on Facebook) offered to 'arrange his falling over in prison as we know people'. Which was sweet but unnecessary. One last thing. He had a bunch of tattoos which I hadn't seen in the dark so when I did a virtual line up (all on a computer now) they'd airbrushed these out. But they had left the bruising to his face where it was ha ha.
 
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I try to be.

One for Darth. This story kinda 'made my name' a little locally. So I live in, as I've said in other posts, what was what the Yanks would call 'a Vets social club (ex army/navy/airforce social club). Not long after I moved in and while I was awaiting change of use from commercial to residential (so club into a BIG home - it's close to 5000 sq ft) I'm awakened by a noise downstairs at around 3am. It's cold, I'm cosy, I don't want to get up. So I say to myself 'another noise and I'll go check'. Sure enough - more noise.

Now looking back I could have taken a weapon but, all things considered, it was better I didn't. I go down one floor and see a door open that I KNOW 100% was shut (it was into a big walk-in cupboard where they stored wine when the club was open). I'd changed a bulb the day before so... anyway I call out 'out you come'. Nothing. I say 'I know you're in there and me getting you out is only gonna make it worse'. Still nothing. I know where the light switch is so I flick it on real quick in case they have a knife or something to hit me with.

Out they come. Hood up, all 5'5 maybe - looks like a druggie and apologizing profusely. Now, lucky for them, I don't go all red mist / forgetting myself (that's only ever happened 2-3x in my life) but I still think 'I'm gonna pound on this mo-fo til my hands ache'. I make a grab and start pulling him about. I'd intended for his head to hit a wall butting out by either way he ends up face down on the floor. I'm in my underpants, socks and t-shirt sitting on his upper back and - oh yes - I pound away at the base of his skull until my hand ached. His face was bouncing of the floor. I yank him up by his belt and make to walk/haul his ass to the ground floor so as to call the police and also had an idea of throwing him down the flight of stairs. Lucky for him when I tried he ran like fuck.

I'm not running around in the dark and rain in my pants so I go back inside and call the police. They were pretty damned good I gotta say. They did NOT note my first comment (''I hit him 30-40 x and the went that-a-way'' lol). They caught him naked in a buddies bath (stripped off so as to try and hide evidence) having been seen by someone walking their dog at 3.30am or so (who the fuck walks their dog that early??). He'd busted my front door lock, set off a fire extinguisher, mixed up two lots of protein, drank and stole some of my booze (one having only been opened the day before and spilled half on the floor when I was pounding on him).

He was out of jail on license so, having been arrested 40 or so minutes after his beating was back in jail by 4pm that day. It went to court where his idiot GF gave me shit outside (I point out he'd take another beating over jail and I was happy to do that if it helped). What was nice, apart from the very cool police, was neighbors and gym buddies who knew who he was (he left behind a letter from his P.O with his name on - plus I found him on Facebook) offered to 'arrange his falling over in prison as we know people'. Which was sweet but unnecessary. One last thing. He had a bunch of tattoos which I hadn't seen in the dark so when I did a virtual line up (all on a computer now) they'd airbrushed these out. But they had left the bruising to his face where it was ha ha.

That's crazy stuff. Thanks for sharing. I love reading stories like this.
 
For me, the steroids came much later in life....but the gym itself saved me. I was headed down the wrong path. I was also the skinny kid that got bullied etc. I was becoming antisocial, unmotivated, and a fuck the world attitude.

My old man got me on weights, and it helped me build confidence and self esteem. It was a huge part in becoming who I am today on striving to succeed in everything I do. It helped me become a better person. A better human. A better citizen. Its changed my way of thinking and my mindset. I only started cycling in my mid 30s to take it to the next level, so it really wasnt about steroids for me.
 
mine was really a combination of bullying in HS and just seeing a bunch of yoked out marines walking around and thinking; "damn i wanna look like that". i got pretty pretty damn big even without gear, almost comically muscular, the gear just came with working out in military gyms. now the bigger i got, the more confidence i had, and felt really good. always got a lot of stares, compliments, etc, and really liked it. the one bad thing is, i have a problem with alcohol and still do to this day. most of the time im fine when i drink and usually level headed/easy going. but every once in a blue moon, i would get a hare up my ass, and look for any excuse to remove someones spinal column if they tried me. in 2009, when i wasnt even on gear, i went looking for a fight and found one, ended up getting blindsided and had the turds kicked out of me (theres more to it than that, but im trying to keep it short). it kind of occurred to me that i WAS becoming the bully, and thats not who i am. i try to be a bit more passive now, and non-confrontational. i know i went off the subject there, but just a little vignette from my past.
 
I had to, as we say, wind my neck in yesterday. I found myself running out of the office quite set on throwing a guy out of our building only to found he'd left when I got to where I'd seen him. As in I've been a little too keen to punch someone out these last 3 days or so... fuck knows why. I'm normally very chilled. No gear or anything in me.
 
I try to be.

One for Darth. This story kinda 'made my name' a little locally. So I live in, as I've said in other posts, what was what the Yanks would call 'a Vets social club (ex army/navy/airforce social club). Not long after I moved in and while I was awaiting change of use from commercial to residential (so club into a BIG home - it's close to 5000 sq ft) I'm awakened by a noise downstairs at around 3am. It's cold, I'm cosy, I don't want to get up. So I say to myself 'another noise and I'll go check'. Sure enough - more noise.

Now looking back I could have taken a weapon but, all things considered, it was better I didn't. I go down one floor and see a door open that I KNOW 100% was shut (it was into a big walk-in cupboard where they stored wine when the club was open). I'd changed a bulb the day before so... anyway I call out 'out you come'. Nothing. I say 'I know you're in there and me getting you out is only gonna make it worse'. Still nothing. I know where the light switch is so I flick it on real quick in case they have a knife or something to hit me with.

Out they come. Hood up, all 5'5 maybe - looks like a druggie and apologizing profusely. Now, lucky for them, I don't go all red mist / forgetting myself (that's only ever happened 2-3x in my life) but I still think 'I'm gonna pound on this mo-fo til my hands ache'. I make a grab and start pulling him about. I'd intended for his head to hit a wall butting out by either way he ends up face down on the floor. I'm in my underpants, socks and t-shirt sitting on his upper back and - oh yes - I pound away at the base of his skull until my hand ached. His face was bouncing of the floor. I yank him up by his belt and make to walk/haul his ass to the ground floor so as to call the police and also had an idea of throwing him down the flight of stairs. Lucky for him when I tried he ran like fuck.

I'm not running around in the dark and rain in my pants so I go back inside and call the police. They were pretty damned good I gotta say. They did NOT note my first comment (''I hit him 30-40 x and the went that-a-way'' lol). They caught him naked in a buddies bath (stripped off so as to try and hide evidence) having been seen by someone walking their dog at 3.30am or so (who the fuck walks their dog that early??). He'd busted my front door lock, set off a fire extinguisher, mixed up two lots of protein, drank and stole some of my booze (one having only been opened the day before and spilled half on the floor when I was pounding on him).

He was out of jail on license so, having been arrested 40 or so minutes after his beating was back in jail by 4pm that day. It went to court where his idiot GF gave me shit outside (I point out he'd take another beating over jail and I was happy to do that if it helped). What was nice, apart from the very cool police, was neighbors and gym buddies who knew who he was (he left behind a letter from his P.O with his name on - plus I found him on Facebook) offered to 'arrange his falling over in prison as we know people'. Which was sweet but unnecessary. One last thing. He had a bunch of tattoos which I hadn't seen in the dark so when I did a virtual line up (all on a computer now) they'd airbrushed these out. But they had left the bruising to his face where it was ha ha.

Wow, I must have missed this somehow. This was a great read to start my day and get me amped for training. Had no idea you were 270 lbs...
tenor.gif
 
Wow, I must have missed this somehow. This was a great read to start my day and get me amped for training. Had no idea you were 270 lbs...
tenor.gif

294 yesterday. It varies. 300lbs last week. I seem to be sitting round at 296 most days
 
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