“My body carried me,” says Elizabeth Smart. Now she’s celebrating it

The first time Elizabeth Smart stepped on stage at a bodybuilding competition, she was terrified.

She says her smile froze. Her hands trembled. Every move, down to the turns and poses she performs under bright stage lights, was choreographed and practiced over and over again.

However, there was only so much she could do to prepare for the extravagant festival. Unlike during practice, she wore oversized costume jewelry, including a large ring. The blonde hair extensions were also fresh.

Then, as she threw her hair over her shoulder, the ring caught one of her extensions.

“In the end, I just tore the extensions out and took out a chunk of hair, and I looked back and laughed,” she says now, laughing.

At the time, she says, she wanted to escape the stage.

Instead, she continued to pose in towering heels while the judges evaluated the body she’s spent years trying to survive on the inside.

For Smart, bodybuilding is not a trophy. But she won something she never expected, winning several medals in four competitions. It’s about confidence in your body.

“I’m at a point in my life where I want to celebrate it. I don’t want to feel ashamed about my body,” Smart says.

a traumatic detour

In 2002, Smart was just 14 years old when a self-proclaimed prophet kidnapped him at knifepoint as he slept next to his sister in a Salt Lake City bedroom.

For months, the world watched the search for her unfold. Her face was plastered on television screens and the front pages of newspapers. During that time, she lived in the woods just a few miles from home.

Smart, now 38, remembers how she tried to survive the nine months she was held captive and repeatedly sexually assaulted. She endured repeated humiliation and psychological manipulation.

In her latest book, detour, Smart describes trauma as a detour, a path you never planned or wanted. She said she was able to survive her captivity by holding on to small memories and moments that reminded her that her life was outside the forest.

“My body felt hurt and crushed,” she says. “But that’s what got me through.”

Detachment from main body

Developing this positive relationship with your body after trauma can take years, even decades, said Robin Brickell, a licensed therapist in Virginia who specializes in trauma-related disorders.

“When trauma occurs in early childhood, especially sexual trauma, people become disconnected from their bodies because it’s not safe,” Brickell said. “That’s how they survive.”

During abuse, some victims mentally detach from their bodies and instead focus on the details of the room, she said.

“Many trauma survivors will say, ‘I know exactly how many light bulbs there were in the chandelier, how many cracks there were in the ceiling, and the pattern on the wallpaper’ during the time of the abuse.”, she says. “Because that’s where they belong.”

She says that the body becomes something to escape from, rather than something to live in. For many survivors, the disconnection persists even after the abuse ends.

Brickell said survivors often struggle with feelings of shame, confusion and betrayal related to their bodies.

“Many survivors believe their bodies have betrayed them,” she says.

Smart says she understands that feeling.

Smart, who grew up in a conservative Mormon family that valued humility and purity, said she suffered deep shame after the abuse. She spent much of her time playing the harp, avoided boys, and had few close friends.

For years after returning home, she said she felt pressured to be what she called the “most innocent victim.” “I always had to do the right thing and always say the right thing.”

By the time she was rescued in 2003, nine months after her abduction, millions of people already knew her name and face. Unlike many survivors, Smart had to be treated in public.

Smart says she now sees herself differently.

“I get to be an advocate for women and children,” Smart said. “But you can also put on a bikini and go on stage and walk around and pose. That’s OK.”

For Brickell, that transition from invisible to visible is significant.

“Those who survive trauma [often] “Make yourself as unattractive as possible so as not to attract attention,” she says. So that it doesn’t stand out. ”

“There is no finish line.”

Smart says her relationship with exercise has changed dramatically over the past few years.

After he was rescued, he ran occasionally, but did not continue. She eventually became a marathon runner, but had to take a break due to recurring knee pain.

“I always need goals and deadlines,” she says.

Bodybuilding provided both. So she started strength training about a year and a half ago.

Currently, she trains at least five days a week for about 45 minutes at a time. She carefully tracks her meals, counts her macros, and takes about 10,000 steps a day, often on an incline treadmill.

A growing body of research shows that weightlifting may help some trauma survivors reconnect with their bodies in a healthy way. According to a study published last year, frontiers of psychologyresistance training was associated with reducing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and improving psychological well-being. And a 2023 study published in the same journal found that many trauma survivors said weightlifting was empowering, saying it helped them regain confidence, regain a sense of control, and feel safe in their bodies again.

Still, Brickell says physical training and trauma recovery don’t always intersect in a healthy way. For some survivors, exercise has become another form of disconnection rather than healing. This is similar to people who use drugs, self-harm, eating disorders, or overwork as a way to overcome mental pain.

According to Brickell, the difference often comes down to awareness of intent and emotion.

“Can you think and feel at the same time?” she asks. “Am I running away from something or am I adding something to my life?”

This question lies quietly at the root of much of what Smart explains. She talks about presence over perfection. Gratitude is more important than punishment.

One of her favorite book passages comes from Charlotte Bronte’s 1847 novel. Jane Eyre. Smart said Rochester told Jane that she could crush the cage around the bird, but not the bird itself.

Smart says that metaphor stuck with her.

Although her body felt broken, she says: “It never destroyed my soul. It supported me during my kidnapping. It gave me three beautiful children.”

Then she says something that still amazes me: “My body is incredible.”

For Brickell, such positive statements may represent years of emotional commitment. “We work on that all the time in treatment,” she says.

But she also points out that healing is rarely linear. Some survivors are quick to talk about their trauma. Others wait decades. Some people don’t talk about it at all.

“There’s no finish line,” Smart says. “I hope progress never stops.”

Recently, Smart said he was seriously considering a bodybuilding competition in Nashville later this year. This competition is a women-only event that honors women who have overcome trauma.

Her face lights up when she talks about it.

Not because she believes the trauma will go away, but because she doesn’t want survival to be the only lens through which she sees herself.

“We can be many different things,” she says.

When he doesn’t want to walk outside during training season, Smart climbs on the treadmill and observes great british bake off While dreaming of something sweet.

“That’s what I want,” she says with a laugh. “I’ll add that to my after-show snack list.”

“And I want it all,” she added. “It’s not just slices.”