To combat this, I tried to do what I always did when life got stressful – I trained.
Normal types might scoff at the notion of hitting the gym with so much shit going on, but they aren't seeing the big picture – or at least my big picture. I don't punish myself with drop-sets and high-rep squats to build muscle. I do it to kill my demons.
We all have demons inside of us. Some have more than others, and some guys can deal with them better than the next. That 40-something stressed-out businessman who suddenly snaps and bludgeons the Walmart greeter with a plunger is an example of someone who can't handle his demons. I'm not saying I'm always inches away from committing manslaughter, but I can be a real dick when I let stress get the better of me.
So I smash my demons. I crush them under PR's. And if I'm too fucked up to train heavy, I torch them with extended sets, rip them apart with rest pauses and drop sets, and then chase them away with whatever fucked up finishing exercise I can think of. The demons always come back, mind you, but as long as I have a key to my gym I can stay one step ahead.
From the latest Dave Tate article on T-mag
"And for crying out loud. Don't go into the pain cave. I can't stress this enough. Your Totem Animal won't be in there to help you. You'll be on your own. The Pain Cave is for cowards.
Pain is your companion, don't go hide from it."