Chalk therapy: Overcoming trauma symptoms through climbing

Discover routes to healing through movement

When I was first introduced (read: reluctantly dragged) to my local rock climbing gym in 2020, I honestly and truly hated it.

This came only weeks after escaping my five-year abusive relationship. I was in a period of massive upheaval, loss, and fear of potential retaliation from my violent, unstable former partner.

I just spent five years fighting for my life in my relationship, and now you want me to face my fear of heights, too? Feels like I’ve been about “brave” and “resilient” enough lately, thanks very much.

Nearly four years later, however, climbing has become one of my favorite activities. I’m incredibly grateful to have pushed through my initial fears and stuck with it.

Join me in exploring some of the potential physical and mental health benefits of climbing for those in trauma recovery!

Luck of the quick draw: Climbing to overcome fear

Like most normal people with an instinct for self-preservation, I have a healthy fear of heights.

At first, I found myself having overwhelming panic attacks while attempting to climb. These would strike even when I was on a top rope and knew logically that I would be safe if I fell.

In the gym or outdoors, the result was the same: I’d get halfway up the wall and freeze, clinging to the holds for dear life. I felt paralyzed, weak, and frustrated to tears by my mental limitations.

Thankfully, the group I regularly climbed with was incredibly supportive and didn’t make me feel like a complete wuss for being afraid. Quite the opposite: they readily shared their own harrowing tales of conquering fears on the wall. No matter how incremental, any progress I made was celebrated with gusto.

They kept extending the invite, and despite my body’s clear objection to the whole concept, I kept accepting.

Fellow climbers were glad to ease my fears and build my trust in the climbing gear, piece by piece. They’d patiently explain how many literal thousands of pounds each piece was rated to safely hold and the many redundancies in place for added safety if something failed.

This information I repeated like a mantra when terror struck on the wall. While it didn’t prevent the stress response, over time it helped me breathe through the fear and continue upwards, rather than asking to be lowered from the route.

In time and with much encouragement, I learned it wasn’t the gear I needed to learn to trust, it was myself.

Always gonna be another mountain: Getting a grip

At that point in my life, I had so little that I did simply for my own happiness or benefit. I struggled with the effects of trauma and all of the fun that comes with navigating Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD). My bandwidth was chronically depleted from fighting my way through a series of seemingly never-ending battles.

I’d always loved using physical activity as a way to work through life stress, but never thought I’d seek something quite so adrenaline-filled as a form of relaxation.

But one day, after a particularly stressful afternoon at work, something clicked into place. To my surprise, I realized I was looking forward to a satisfyingly grueling workout at the climbing gym that evening.

The Bolter: Reconnecting with the body post-trauma

In my abusive relationship, I learned to avoid the ongoing harm by disconnecting from my body through survival mechanisms like dissociation, substance use, and emotional numbing.

These are common methods of coping employed by victims when they aren’t able to escape their situation safely. While these coping tactics are helpful during the period of trauma, they can leave survivors struggling with residual feelings of learned helplessness and disconnection from their physical bodies.

Climbing challenged me to practice grounding myself within my body, so I could better focus on the present moment rather than mentally check out during moments of fear. This taught me to learn to trust my body, cut through the flood of adrenaline, and reach for that next bolt.

Nothing like shimmying up a windy spire to make you feel fully present!

Harnessing physical and mental health benefits of climbing

The benefits of regular exercise are vast and can include building stamina, strength, flexibility, and confidence. Healing through movement has also been shown to combat some of the many adverse health effects of trauma disorders.

Exercise affects the chemicals in the brain, decreasing levels of stress hormones (like cortisol and adrenaline) while increasing the production of “happy hormones” (such as dopamine and serotonin) that trauma survivors often struggle to produce themselves. This can result in a natural mood boost, better sleep regulation, and overall positive health outcomes.

Reconnecting with my body also meant properly caring for it if I wanted to accomplish my fitness goals. This included prioritizing proper nutrition, rest, and recovery, things that were sorely lacking in my life as I struggled with chronically heightened stress.

Stretching after a hard climb became a near-meditative practice, allowing me to slow down and focus on my body and breathing. Tension built up during the day began to melt away, providing the opportunity to intentionally check in with how my body was feeling and recovering.

Climb on: Pushing limits to reach new heights

My abuser was much larger and more physically intimidating than me, so even when I was physically healthy he could easily overpower me. During my period of abuse, there were several periods when I was injured to the point that I had to rely on him to get around.

This was a very vulnerable and scary period that many abuse victims will relate to. The idea of being injured or helpless to the point that someone else has to care for me remains deeply triggering as a result.

Today, I’m undoubtedly stronger than I’ve ever been in my life. Physical activity helps me combat those dark memories and feel my most powerful. With each climb, I build strength both physically and mentally.

Feeling boulder: Overcoming social anxiety

I’ve never been much of a team sports person. A natural introvert, I much prefer small groups to a crowd. Those feelings only intensified after five years of isolation and manipulation left me distrustful, jumpy, and sensitive to criticism.

One of my absolute favorite things about the climbing gym is that I can opt into as much socialization as I want.

Some days, I’ll climb with my friends in the evening. This is typically a busier, more boisterous time. There’s a lot of encouragement, bonding over the difficulty of our projects, and an overall sense of community. People tend to be more vocal and open to meeting other climbers.

While that’s a lovely atmosphere, I’m fortunate to live near enough to my gym that I can go during my lunch break on weekdays when my social battery is lower. I can pop in a headphone and focus on the wall, letting the rest of the world disappear.

In this calmer period, I may even feel bold enough to strike up a conversation with another lone climber. I find it much less stressful to bond one-on-one and have met several amazing people this way.

However I take my socialization, it’s far easier to do with that “third thing” to focus on. The shared language of climbing bonds us and gives us a place to start.

Building anchors: Finding supportive community through climbing

Climbing has given me opportunities to connect and adventure with people of wildly diverse backgrounds and interests.

After being forced to flee my hometown to escape my abuser, I landed in a place where I didn’t know a single person for nearly 900 miles. In search of community ties, I started in the safest, most welcoming place I could imagine. You guessed it: the nearest climbing gym.

There, I met four of my closest friends in a brand new town through a women and nonbinary person’s climbing night. From there, I’ve built relationships with other climbers and met my current partner.

There’s a lot to be done to improve inclusivity in sports overall, but the climbing community has some amazing voices that have made strides toward more equitable access. As a queer woman with a trauma disorder, seeing that representation inspires me to push the limits of what I believe I can do.

Conclusion: End on a send

Climbing has been an unexpectedly transformative journey, especially in the context of my mental health. Dealing with CPTSD can be hugely challenging, but incorporating climbing and other forms of healthy activity has helped me manage my symptoms and maintain a growth mindset.

This isn’t a magic cure-all, of course. There are times I find myself struggling with feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, and intense fear. Still, it’s been a powerful tool for growth in myself as well as my relationships. It’s challenged me to confront fears and discover that I’m capable of more than I ever thought possible.

I began to understand climbing when I started doing it for me. On the wall, I face my fears head-on and, learn to breathe and regulate myself, and push through. Because when it comes down to it, I’ve already survived much scarier things.