Can Trauma Keep You From Exercising?
YES!
I’m not talking about physical trauma here—though even that can be overcome if you lean into it. Just think about the people who have lost limbs or broken their backs only to end up running marathons. Those stories are incredible. But that’s not the kind of trauma I mean.
I’m talking about the sneaky, emotional trauma that lodges itself in your mind and body like gum under a school desk—sticky, persistent, and kind of gross when you finally deal with it.
For me, that trauma was 100% mental. It stemmed from one spectacularly awkward seventh-grade track and field teacher. I refer to him as the Exercise Tyrant. While the more athletic kids hurdled, pole vaulted, and sprinted their way to praise and attention, I stood on the sidelines, too big and too embarrassed of my body to even consider jumping a hurdle.
The Exercise Tyrant strutted around in his knee-high socks, gym shorts, white tennis shoes, and big fat belly, with a whistle between his lips and a clipboard in his hand. His focus stayed firmly on the “star athletes,” sending an unspoken message: I wasn’t worthy of the teacher’s time or encouragement because of my body. That message stuck with me for decades, quietly shaping how I viewed exercise—and myself.
Fast forward decades, and that trauma was still living in my body, keeping me from moving and silently influencing my life. Combine it with years of a “pretty healthy diet” (spoiler: it wasn’t), I found myself at 270 pounds on a petite 5’2” frame. And we all know there’s nothing petite about 270 pounds on a 5’2” body.
Turns Out Rock Bottom Has a Treadmill
My wake-up call came in the form of a serious medical issue. It forced me to take a hard look at my life, including, among other things, my sedentary habits. I knew I had to move my body, but the idea of exercising felt like climbing Everest.
Still, I put on my sweats, laced up my sneakers, and climbed onto the treadmill. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t inspiring. And honestly, it wasn’t fun. But I set the timer for 15 minutes and started walking.
- Minute one: This isn’t so bad.
- Minute three: Why does this feel like an eternity?
- Minute five: Okay, time has officially stopped.
When I finished, I was sweating, huffing, and seriously considering taking a nap right there on the treadmill deck. But I didn’t nap, and I was actually proud that I made it the full 15 minutes. And the next day, I did it again. And the following day, I did it again…and again and again.
The jumping jacks were another story. Let me tell you, when you’re carrying all those extra pounds, the physics of jumping and lifting your arms simultaneously is, well…a challenge. After five jumping jacks, I was gasping like a fish out of water. By 25, my dog was giving me the side-eye, clearly concerned about my life choices.
But here’s the thing: I didn’t quit.
The Domino Effect of Movement
After about three weeks, I started noticing subtle shifts. I slept a little better. My mood had a faint glimmer of improvement, like the tiniest flicker of a candle. I had a bit more energy in the afternoons, and I didn’t feel as foggy during the day.
My 15 minutes on the treadmill grew to 30, then an hour. Before long, I was logging four miles a day on that treadmill. Then after gaining some confidence, I branched out and began exploring trails in the hills around my house with my dog. That led to biking, swimming, and even yoga. Moving my body didn’t just become a habit—it became something that made me happy, something I truly looked forward to doing.
And it didn’t just change the shape of my body. Regular movement continually improved my mood, boosted my energy, and made me sharper mentally. It even helped me make better food choices—because when you’re feeling good, you don’t want to muck it up with bad food choices. It felt good to feel good.
But as much as the physical changes were motivating, the real shift happened in my mind. Movement didn’t just help me feel better physically—it helped me chip away at the mental barriers that had kept me stuck for so long. That’s when I realized that my perceived traumatic limiting beliefs—the ones planted all those years ago thanks to the Exercise Tyrant from 7th grade, needed to be addressed head-on.
How to Overcome Those Pesky Limiting Beliefs
The key to overcoming limiting beliefs is getting clear on who you want to be, what you want to learn, and how you want to show up in the world. It’s about setting intentions and then stepping into them.
- Who do you want to be? Maybe you want to be someone who feels strong and capable, who shows up for themselves no matter what.
- What do you want to learn? Perhaps you want to learn how to enjoy movement, or how to take better care of your body, or maybe learn how to play pickle-ball.
- How do you want to show up? Do you want to model health and self-care for your family? Do you want to bring more energy and joy to your day?
Once you’ve defined these intentions, as guided by your values, write them down. Let them guide you in your daily actions. Then take action—one small, manageable step at a time.
Turn off the TV (we all know it’s full of programming we really need) and go for a walk instead. Try a 15-minute stroll around your neighborhood or a quiet moment in the morning to set your intentions for the day. Every small action moves you closer to the person you want to be.
Remember, it’s not about perfection; it’s about progress. Each step builds momentum, and with time, those limiting beliefs will begin to unravel as you prove to yourself that you can move forward.
Moving Past the Limits
Exercise isn’t just about losing weight or looking a certain way. It’s about reclaiming your power, healing your mind, discovering your strength, and realizing what your body is truly capable of.
For me, it was also about confronting and resolving the mental trauma and limiting beliefs that had kept me stuck for decades. That seventh-grade track and field experience, and the unspoken message that I wasn’t worthy of the teacher’s time or encouragement because of my big fat body, had silently shaped my beliefs about exercise and my own value. But by showing up for myself day after day, I challenged that narrative. I proved to myself that my worth isn’t tied to how my body looks or how others perceive me, but to my resilience and determination to keep moving forward.
Working through my mental trauma and breaking free of those limiting beliefs didn’t just change how I viewed exercise—it changed how I viewed myself. And if I can rewrite my story, you can too.
So lace up those sneakers, ask yourself the right questions, and take that first step. Trust me, your future self—and that silent voice inside that always believed you could—will thank you.