I have always had an athletic body. My mom constantly reminds me that I “just go up and down” when trying on dresses. I patiently waited throughout my middle school years for curves that never came. I look in the mirror every morning thinking, “Do I look like a man today?”
My body never used to be something I hid or chose to be so critical of. In fact, there was a time when I didn’t wake up and feel at war with my figure.
This was when I swam.
Among the many other sports I participated in during the course of my childhood, swimming always pushed me further. I began practicing the sport competitively in elementary school, constantly forcing myself to become better, to push past my limits.
I was on a club swim team throughout middle school, my technique and form improving with each stroke I took, each breath I breathed, each wall I touched. I exhausted myself, but I loved every second of it. For months, my only goal was to practice hard enough, become good enough, to get recruited to a college for the sport I had dedicated my whole life to.
This dream was temporarily put on hold when I moved to Europe. The task of being recruited would be harder, sure, but not impossible. I joined my school’s swim team as soon as I moved. Though I may have moved schools and countries many times, one thing remained a constant: my sport.
My high school swim team was the place I grew the most. I had the most supportive teammates, my coaches knew what drills to run to improve my form, and I quickly rose to become one of the top swimmers on the team. There was rarely a competition I came home from without at least one gold medal, along with many congratulations from my peers.
My body was strong, my mind connected with it. There was no physical or mental obstacle that could stand in my way of becoming a D1 swimmer.
Then my school opened the pool up to the public.
Hundreds of people were in the water each week. And with those people, came bacteria.
I fell sick.
It was determined later on that I had developed a severe case of bronchitis, the inflammation of the lining of the bronchial tubes in the lungs. I was home for about a month, skipping school and missing training. I assumed that I just had an awful cold, and it would pass soon enough. I was wrong.
My lungs were destroyed. I couldn’t walk up the stairs in my house without getting winded. When I breathed, it felt like there were icicles in my chest.
When I reentered the pool, I could no longer perform the way I wanted. I could barely hold my breath for more than five seconds, and while my body said yes, my chest said no. Suddenly, there were no gold medals. There was no support from my coaches. My teammates picked me apart, deeming me unworthy to be on the team anymore. I finally had to quit, for my own sanity.
All my dreams were crushed. My life’s work felt like it was all for nothing. I grieved my body for a long time after.
I let my body, my muscles, and my athleticism fade away. I no longer worked out or pushed myself to any physical limits. My body slowly changed, and along with it, so did my mentality. I hated myself for letting it get so bad.
About a year and a half passed before I decided to make a change. Coincidentally, the change coincided with the start of my freshman year of college. I finally had access to a gym with amazing facilities, and I could get back into shape at my own pace.
I’ve done a lot of physically and mentally taxing and challenging things in my life, but this was one of the most difficult processes I’ve put myself through. I battled internal constant comparisons with my previous body. I looked in the mirror every morning, hating the reflection I saw, but knowing that my hard work would pay off eventually.
And it did.
My body looks a lot different from what it used to. I have stretch marks on my inner thighs. I can’t run as fast as I used to. When I swim, I often get concerned that I’ll pass out due to a lack of oxygen.
Despite this, my body has also changed for the better. I got my period back. I can now proudly say that I hike 13ers. I treat my body with a lot more love and respect than I used to.
My body was once my pride and joy, something that was my rock in an otherwise chaotic life. Our relationship has changed, blossoming into something completely different, but ultimately beneficial. Be proud of the change, and know the negative feelings won’t last forever.