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People share things they imagined they’d never do but now totally love

Proof that we shouldn’t limit ourselves with “never.”

Photo by Benjamin Combs on Unsplash
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Most of us have things we're willing to try and other things we swear we'll never do. Some of those "nevers" are actually smart boundaries—definitely shouldn't knock "never" entirely—but some things we unnecessarily omit from the list of possibilities simply because we think they aren't for us or that we won't actually enjoy them.

However, "never say never" is a saying for a reason. How many of us thought we'd never like a food that we've actually grown to love? How many hidden talents or interests have we discovered by trying something we assumed wasn't our thing?

Someone on Reddit asked, "What’s something you thought you’d never do that you found out is actually really enjoyable?" and people's responses are surprisingly inspiring. If you've ever thought any of these things wouldn't be up your alley, take a look at what others say about their experiences. Maybe it really isn't for you, but maybe—just maybe—you'll discover a new love when you start letting go of some "nevers."

Being a workout person

"Going to the gym regularly - hated it at first, but now it’s my therapy."

"One of my few discoveries too. Staying active and working out really does clear your head and also pumps me up enough to have energy throughout the day."

"Yes!! I go to a hard-core class 4x a week now and I feel better!"

"I hated it at first as I felt lost in regards to exercise selection and hate eating (eating in a calorie surplus is necessary for building muscle) but once I noticed I was no longer the skinniest guy in the room and had a decent (not huge) amount of muscle I kept at it."

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"I never thought I'd say this, but going to the gym has actually become something I really enjoy! I was trying to lose weight last year and I met a really nice trainer who taught me a lot of tips. And now I lost 20 pounds, have a healthier body, and strength training even makes my nasolabial folds lighter."

"Weightlifting, who knew taking out my anger on some heavy barbells would make me feel EXCELLENT, keep my weight low, make me strong looking, and give me a place and activity to hang with my friends that wasn’t a bar?"

Gardening

"Gardening. I was raised a city kid. Rented a house for a bit in a neighborhood where people took real pride in their yards, so out of respect, I tried to spruce the yard up a bit with plants.

Very little in life has such solace and reward. Not everything you plant works out, but it's peaceful digging the hole and putting it in the ground and months later, if it lives and blooms, you know you did that. You made that happen. And every spring that flower will return and brighten your day and you know that you put it there and it lived."

"This for me as well. I love spending hours pottering around my garden and spending a fortune growing food that mostly gets eaten by the critters. Massively beneficial for my mental health."

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"This is my 2nd year having a small veggie garden, and last year I struggled a lot. Most things died besides my green beans and my cayenne peppers. This year has been so much better. My pride and joy is my Scotch Bonnet plant that I grew from seeds that I almost killed and thought for sure wasn't going to make it. It's thriving and I just harvested a bunch of peppers. It's very rewarding to me."

"I hated it too until I finally realized - I don’t hate gardening, I hate being dirty. I got proper gloves and waterproof clogs and I’ve transformed my yard into a paradise."

"I thought gardening was just for retirees and super serious people. Turns out, digging in the dirt while talking to plants is surprisingly therapeutic and makes you feel like a horticultural wizard with magical plant-growing powers!"

Giving up alcohol or other addictions

"Give up drinking. It wasn’t easy, but damn are my weeks, nights and days better without alcohol."

"Amen. I needed rehab but I’m 7 months and 1 day sober. Never thought I’d quit, figured it would kill me someday. February 8th this year I decided I was done and needed help. I asked for it and I got it. Life is so much better. Even the bad days are handled so much more constructively. Best thing (and scariest) I’ve ever done."

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""Never thought I’d quit, figured it would kill me someday." yeah man i'm just shy of 4 months, I feel that IN MY BONES. its funny how bad things that would have been the end of the world earlier are now just inconveniences."

"This 100% I'm going on 4 months now after drinking nearly every day for the last 14 years. It's like I was asleep all that time. Life is completely different for the better."

"Keep going my man! Addiction is a curse. I had the same problem with weed. Since I stopped, my life took a U turn."

Hiking and kayaking

"Hiking/walking trails. It was terrible the first few times I did it and had terrible soreness in my feet days after. Now, I can do 6 miles a day with virtually no pain."

"I used to hate hiking because I always thought it was just "Walking but with added challenge". Then I started going on more hikes in places I had never been before and I understood. It's not about getting to somewhere specific, it's about enjoying the walk itself!"

"Going hiking! I thought it’d be boring, but it’s actually so refreshing and fun. Totally changed my view!"

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"Yes! I thought I was too weak and delicate to go hiking, but one year later, I hiked up a mountain! It's a daily view on my commute, and I can't help but smile whenever I see it."

"Kayaking. Being that far from civilization is the closest I’ve ever felt to free and at peace:)"

"Kayaking is really soothing and fun!"

"My wife and I just started kayaking last summer, and it allows me to clear my mind and paddle. I am far far from being fit, but I've learned that it's both relaxing and a great workout."

Miscellaneous honorable mentions

"I’ve recently picked up cooking and painting. Didn’t think I was talented enough to paint but it turns out I can- I just paint abstract things"

"Public speaking. I used to hate it, but now I find it exhilarating!"

"Meditating. I was convinced I could not shut off my brain (it's still a challenge). But just sitting quietly with my thoughts for 10 or 15 minutes really does remind me that whatever's weighing heavily on my mind really isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things."

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"Being openly honest about my feelings, insecurities, faults, etc, in somewhat of a humorous, self deprecating way. I found out that when you’re open about those things that others will almost immediately start agreeing and opening up themselves about the same issues. I learned that I’m not nearly as alone as I thought I was, and most of those feelings are pretty common among other people. It’s quite liberating!"

"Basket weaving! I was at a medieval market and some guy sat there doing a presentation of it and letting people have a go. I tried it too and enjoyed it greatly! The repetitiveness of the work really lets you unwind and relax your mind."

"Driving a school bus for a living. I swore it was the one job I'd never do. Now I'm 5 years in and, as far as jobs go, I find it extremely rewarding and pretty fun."

All of these answers show that you just never know. Maybe one of your "nevers" will become a beloved activity if you give it a try.



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This actress felt self-doubt at the gym, so she filmed a bold video about body positivity.

There's no need for insecurity. Just ask Danielle Brooks.

"Orange Is the New Black" actress Danielle Brooks likes to work out in just her sports bra. She says it makes her feel confident.

The 27-year-old has been a part of the critically acclaimed Netflix series since its debut in 2013 and plays Tasha "Taystee" Jefferson.

Image by Dave Kotinsky/Getty Images.

On Nov. 17, 2016, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Brooks decided to hit the gym.

But then she experienced a brief moment of insecurity that a lot of us can relate to, particularly while working out in public. And she decided to share it with the world.

The actress posted an Instagram video about her body image and the gym, and it's going viral.

In the short video, Brooks delivers this powerful message:

"Hey, y'all, so I just left the gym, and, as most people know, I take my shirt off when I go to the gym. Like, that's my new thing; it gives me confidence, whatever.

So I had my shirt off and this lady walks in. And, y'all, she was bad. I ain't gonna lie; she was great with her shirt off.

So immediately I'm like, 'Oh no!' I started to lose my confidence. I'm like, I need to put my shirt back on now. Or do I keep it off 'cause she already seen me, like, what?


So I realized I'm comparing myself to this woman. And I'm like, why just two minutes ago I was feeling great and now I'm not? And I realized the reason I was feeling so great is because I was comparing myself to yesterday's Danielle. And today's Danielle is better than yesterday's. And that's why I felt so good. So, ladies, I'm just saying, like ... don't compare yourself to nobody. Like, just be a better you.

That's all of my rant. Voice of the curves."





I had to check in with myself real quick. Hope someone out there feels me. 💪🏾#voiceofthecurves

A video posted by Danielle Brooks (@daniebb3) on

The caption on Danielle's video reads: "I had to check in with myself real quick. Hope someone out there feels me. #voiceofthecurves"

And let me tell you: We hear ya, Danielle. And we feel ya, too. The struggle is real for a lot of women dealing with body issues. Fighting against society's expectations about what a healthy body "should" look like is no easy task.

I know I'm not alone when I say that Danielle's thoughts are ones I've had myself, too. But what I love most is how this bold and brave actress spun her self-doubt into an important lesson: Don't compare yourself to anyone else. It's not worth it. And that goes for life in the gym and outside of it.

As Danielle reminds us, we can only focus on ourselves, on making today's version better than yesterday's version. So be confident in yourself. You're worth it.

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This retired NFL player put up an amazing gym that trains people with disabilities.

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Retired U.S. Marine Brian Aft was in a dark place after losing both his legs to an IED in Afghanistan.

After going through countless surgeries, Aft turned to heroin when he realized the pain wasn’t going away. In time, he became severely addicted.

One day, as he was heading through a parking lot, a dude the size of an NFL linebacker started running toward him. "You’re gonna get robbed," Brian remembered thinking to himself.

Turns out the dude was an NFL linebacker — David Vobora. He had noticed Aft's injury — and apparent addiction — and all he wanted to do was ask what happened.

Little did Aft know that the question would change the course of his life forever.

Vobora always understood the importance of fighting back.

Picked dead last in the 2008 NFL draft, Vobora has the distinction of being that year’s Mr. Irrelevant. But he clawed tooth and nail and eventually became the first rookie Mr. Irrelevant to start a game in over a decade.

Then in 2011, a devastating shoulder injury derailed his NFL career. Vobora played through the pain until the end of the season. But he developed a serious pain-pill addiction along the way and decided to check himself into rehab.

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After going through an intense detox, Vobora started training again. But his drive to play professional football diminished. That’s when he decided to retire. It scared him; football was all he'd ever known.

With the odds stacked against him once again, Mr. Irrelevant found a way to make it work. He moved to Dallas with his family and decided to help other elite athletes at his very own training facility — the Performance Vault.

Vobora’s path took a new turn the day he met retired Army Staff Sgt. Travis Mills.

Mills is one of five living veteran quadruple amputees from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He, like Aft, was injured by an IED while on patrol.

From the moment Vobora saw him, he was drawn to him. "When was the last time you worked out?" Vobora remembers asking.

"I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel like an idiot, but I don’t have arms and legs," replied Mills.

That didn’t matter to Vobora. He didn’t see Mills as an Army vet who'd lost his limbs in battle. He simply saw him as a person who had a body. And as Nike co-founder Bill Bowerman once said, "If you have a body, you are an athlete."

Vobora and Mills got to work. And then they worked some more.

It didn’t matter that Vobora had zero experience training someone with Mills’ condition. All Vobora wanted to do was help Mills see what he was capable of.

In time, Mills began to thrive.

That’s when Vobora realized that no gym he knew of was providing the kind of work that they were doing. What about the other people — whether vet or civilian — who had their own physical disabilities?

"They’ve sort of been sidelined," Vobora says. "They fall into the rehabilitation process, but eventually insurance ran out, cash ran out, and where do they go, right? Where do they go to be apart of a collective group that has this community and this ability to push each other?"

Inspired to make a bigger difference, Vobora started the Adaptive Training Foundation.

It’s a nonprofit designed to empower people with disabilities and restore their confidence through athletic movement. By customizing their plan to what each person can do, they’re able to establish a solid training foundation that has the potential to redefine their physical limits.

This is how men and women like Aft were able to change their lives for the better.

The morning after meeting/getting scared by Vobora, Aft came into the gym and started working out.

He came every day for the next three months.

And he trained alongside other incredible athletes.

All of them were pushing themselves to the absolute limit.

No doubt they did things they never would have done at a normal therapy session.

More than just muscle, the foundation is building a stronger sense of purpose into each and every person it trains.

"They make you stronger," explained Aft. "They instill some insane confidence and self-worth back into you. Not just that, they’re giving you something to do, a place to be, a little sense of community with everybody."

At the end of the day, what sets Vobora apart as a trainer and mentor is his ability to make everyone feel equal, regardless of disability.

Because of the program, these athletes are able to shatter barriers they thought were set in stone. But you know what? They powered right through, lifted that dang stone, and hurled it as far away as humanly possible.

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This is what it's really like to go to the gym as a fat person.

How the gym exposes a challenging double-bind of attitudes around fatness.

I love the feeling of my beating heart — the rush of blood in my face and limbs, the scrape of heavy breath in my lungs, the pulsing in my fingertips.

I love to feel sweat gather in the fine hairs at my temples, neck. The bright colors of workout clothes and the rhythmic throb of blood in my veins are a celebration of the life in my lungs.

Photo via iStock.

I learned to swim at a young age, joining a swim team in grade school and middle school. I never minded being the fattest kid on the team because swimming made me feel so free and exhilarated. I swam the butterfly, a complicated stroke with a precise momentum, in which my fat body proved a surprising asset. I felt my heartbeat in every inch of my body, and I loved it.

Things changed in high school, when our whole class took fitness tests at the same time, the gym becoming a tiny stage packed with players and too much audience.

In locker rooms, beyond the earshot of adults, classmates would talk endlessly about each other’s personal bests and bodies. Those conversations were a warning shot. I never heard my body discussed, but there was the caution: It would be.

The worst test was running the mile, and the inevitability of harsh judgment that came with it. I dreaded the obviousness of being the fattest kid, the cliché of coming in last. I prided myself on being a high achiever and felt overwhelmed with shame at being seen by all of my peers doing something at which I was so inadequate. After everyone else had finished, I was still there, the last of the last, keeping everyone else from going home for the day. Classmates watched as my reddened face contorted with embarrassment and determination, willing my stubborn body through its final lap.

My brain would overheat and sputter with dread and panic for days leading up to The Mile.

Already an anxious kid, my brain would overheat and sputter with dread and panic for days leading up to The Mile. The night before was often sleepless. Hot, frenzied tears would sear my face while my mother offered comfort. Imagine when it’s over, how free you’ll feel, knowing you don’t have to do it for another six months. Think of how relieved you’ll be. Think of everything else that you love so dearly.

It took me years to rediscover my love of movement and strength.

Today, I walk in the city, run in parks, hike in mountains, and swim on the rare occasion I have access to a private pool. But I don’t go to gyms.

“GOOD FOR YOU!”

I was at the gym on my first day of a trial membership.

I was on the elliptical with my headphones in and my eyes closed, willing the world away. People, problems, noise, and challenge all slipped into the ether, disappearing in a cloud of breath and fast-paced music. Suddenly, a piercing interruption.

“GOOD FOR YOU!”

I opened my eyes to see a stranger standing before me, face to face. She smiled with too much encouragement, the way adults do when children learn a basic skill for the first time. I felt conspicuous, the recipient of too much unwanted and unwelcome attention. I forced a weak smile and nodded, waiting for her to leave.

I looked around. No one else was talking to anyone they didn’t know. One other patron stared at me, his face contorted with unchecked disgust.

Photo via iStock.

Suddenly, I was back in high school, the last huffing, puffing fat kid to finish the mile. The size of my body felt so obvious. It felt piteous because it was pitied, disgusting because it elicited disgust. I walked into the gym feeling fine, even good. I walked out feeling ashamed, small, embarrassed by my own audacity.

Going to the gym as a fat person is a ropes course of social cues — little signals that I’m unwanted or, at best, unexpected.

Like an uninvited party guest who can’t take the hint. Would you like something to drink? We don’t have much left.

The gym exposes a challenging double-bind of attitudes around fatness. Even doing what I’m expected to do — working out — I’m still met with sidelong glances and open gawking, reminders that I’m unwelcome and unwanted. Even in the place I’m supposed to be, I can’t find respite.

As a fat person, I’m constantly bombarded with messages telling me that my job is to spend all of my time and energy changing my body, ever reducing it, until it is the right shape and size, until it moves the right way and says the right thing; until I am confident but not conceited, apologetic but not sad.

This is an impossible standard that rejects nearly all of us. But the gravitational pull of beauty standards is so strong that we are pulled into their orbit.

We all keep trying, keep striving, keep failing. We don’t lose as much weight as we thought, or we don’t lose it in the right places. Our bodies remain stubborn and untamed, unbending to our forceful will. But still, we try. We try new diets, new workouts, new pills. We spend money, time, effort. And every time something doesn’t work, it calls up all of our past defeats. Over time, those failures start to feel like who we are. They ferment, souring into shame.

Photo via iStock.

When any of us goes to the gym, it can call up all of that shame, hurt, and anger at ourselves for our perceived shortcomings. But when I show up, I become an effigy for all of that angst. I suddenly start to feel like a high schooler again at the gym, awkward and ashamed. Because in that environment, so many of us are suddenly awash in insecurity, focused on performing and judging. Even in a gym, the only bodies we can accept are the ones that are already perfect.

When I work out, I don’t do it to fit an impossible and exclusive standard.

I do it to clear my head. I do it to feel vitality, the brightness of knowing just how alive I can be. I do it to take care of a body that takes care of me.

But to go to a gym, I’ve also got to brave a culture that’s borne of insecurity, perfectionism and the lack of it. There’s no room for more, better, improvement. There’s no room for getting stronger, breathing easier, goals other than weight loss. There’s only room for hunger, lack, insecurity and shame.

I’ve had enough insecurity and shame. Instead of chasing a mirage my body will never be, I focus on making it strong. I attend to the many measures of health that shame conquers and flattens. I take long hikes and runs to clear my cluttered mind. I find safe places to swim, to feel the power of my body, the waves it can make. I return to that simple, glorious feeling of my sturdy heart pumping blood brightly through my veins.

Photo via Isaac Brown/Stocky Bodies/Stocky Bodies.

I have known enough shame. Today, I choose abundance and confidence. I choose nuance and self-determination. I choose strength.

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