Elizabeth Smart turns trauma into a stronger body

Elizabeth Smart, kidnapped at 14 and held captive for nine months, says she’s gained confidence through bodybuilding—and now she wants to celebrate her body rather than carry shame. Therapists say reconnecting with the body after sexual trauma can take years,

The first time Elizabeth Smart stepped onto a bodybuilding stage, she felt something hard to hide—terror. She remembers how her smile froze and her hands shook as she followed choreography she’d practiced again and again under bright lights. Then there was the costume: oversized costume jewelry. including a large ring. and blonde hair extensions that were new for competition day.

When she flipped her hair over her shoulder, the ring snagged one of the extensions. “I just ended up ripping through the extension and just taking out a chunk of my hair. and then turning around and smiling. ” she says. laughing now. But at the time, she says, she wanted to run offstage. She didn’t. She kept posing in towering heels as judges rated the body she’d spent years learning how to survive inside.

Four competitions later, with several medals and two hands worth of experience on the stage, Smart says she’s earned something she didn’t expect: confidence in her body. “I’m at a point in my life where I want to celebrate it,” she says. “I don’t want to carry shame about my body.”

Smart’s story begins in 2002, when she was 14. A self-proclaimed prophet abducted her at knifepoint from her Salt Lake City bedroom while she slept beside her younger sister. Months passed as the world watched the search unfold—her face on television screens and on newspaper front pages—even though she was living in the woods just miles from her home.

Now 38, Smart looks back on nine months of captivity marked by repeated sexual assault, frequent humiliation, and psychological manipulation. In her latest book, Detours, she describes trauma as a detour—a path you never planned for and never wanted. She says she survived captivity in part by holding onto small memories and moments that reminded her that her life existed outside those woods.

“My body was hurt, and it had felt like it had been crushed,” Smart says. “But it carried me through.”

That kind of relationship with the body after trauma doesn’t arrive on a schedule. Robyn Brickel. a licensed therapist in Virginia who specializes in trauma-related disorders. says people often disconnect from their bodies after early childhood trauma—especially sexual trauma—because disconnection is how they survive. During the abuse. she says. some victims mentally leave their bodies. focusing instead on small details in the room: “Lots of trauma survivors will tell you. ‘I know exactly how many light bulbs there were in the chandelier. ’ how many cracks were in the ceiling. the pattern on the wallpaper” while the abuse was occurring. “because that’s where they are.”.

Brickel says the body can become something to escape rather than inhabit. And that disconnection doesn’t always vanish when the abuse ends. Survivors can struggle with shame, confusion, and betrayal tied to their bodies. “Lots of survivors believe their bodies betrayed them,” she says.

Smart describes recognizing that feeling in herself. Raised in a conservative Mormon home where modesty and purity were emphasized. she says she felt profound shame after the abuse. She spent much of her time playing the harp, avoided boys, and had few close friends. After she was back home. she says she felt pressure to become what she describes as “the most innocent of victims. ” saying. “I had to always do the right thing. always say the right thing.”.

By the time she was rescued in 2003—nine months after she was kidnapped—millions already knew her name and face. Smart had to heal in public in a way many survivors never have to. In later years, her visibility became part of her journey rather than something that trapped her.

Today, Smart says she sees a fuller range of herself. “I can be an advocate for women and children,” she says. “But I also can step on stage in a bikini and strut around and strike a pose. And that’s OK.” Brickel says that shift matters. “Trauma survivors will [often] make themselves as unattractive as possible to not get attention,” she says. “They want to disappear. Be invisible.”.

The change didn’t come from a single decision. Smart describes how her relationship with exercise has moved again and again over the years. After she was rescued, she says she occasionally ran but didn’t stick with it. She eventually became a marathon runner, though recurring knee pain forced her to stop. “I always need a goal and I need a deadline,” she says. Bodybuilding offered both.

She started strength training about a year and a half ago. Now she trains at least five days a week for about 45 minutes at a time. She tracks her meals carefully, counts macros, and walks roughly 10,000 steps a day—often on an incline treadmill. Smart isn’t treating fitness as a performance for its own sake. She’s treating it as a way back into her body.

Mounting research points in that direction. A study published last year in Frontiers in Psychology found that resistance training was linked to reduced post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms and improved emotional well-being. A 2023 study in the same journal found that many trauma survivors described weight lifting as empowering—helping them rebuild confidence. regain a sense of control. and feel safer in their own bodies.

But Brickel cautions that recovery and training don’t always meet in healthy ways. For some survivors, she says, exercise becomes another route to disconnect—similar to how some use drugs, self-harm, eating disorders, or overworking to outrun emotional pain.

The difference, Brickel says, often depends on intention and emotional awareness. “Can I think and feel at the same time?” she says. “Am I running from something, or am I adding to my life?”

Smart’s approach echoes that question. She talks less about perfection and more about presence—less about punishment and more about appreciation. One of her favorite passages comes from Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel Jane Eyre. In it, Smart recalls, Mr. Rochester tells Jane he could crush the cage around a bird, but never destroy the bird itself. Smart says that metaphor stayed with her.

Though her body felt broken, she says, “it never let my soul be destroyed. It carried me through my kidnapping. It gave me three beautiful children.” Then she says something that still surprises her: “My body is incredible.”

For Brickel, positive statements like that can represent years of emotional work. “We work on that in therapy all the time,” she says. She also emphasizes that healing isn’t linear. Some survivors speak about their trauma right away. Others wait decades. Some never talk about it at all.

“There’s no finish line,” Smart says. “I hope I never stop progressing.”

The next chapter is already taking shape. Smart says she is considering another bodybuilding competition later this year in Nashville. It’s an all-female event that recognizes women who have survived trauma. Her face lights up as she talks about it—not because she believes trauma disappears. but because she no longer wants survival to be the only lens through which she sees herself.

“We can be lots of things,” she says.

On days when she doesn’t feel like walking outside during training season. Smart climbs onto her treadmill and watches The Great British Bake Off while dreaming of sweets. “I want that,” she says, laughing. “I am adding that to my post-show treat list.” And then she adds. “And I want the whole thing. not just a slice.”.

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