What the World Needs Now: My Journey in Trauma-Informed Weightlifting

Have you ever heard the song “What the World Needs Now”?

More than ever, love really is what we need.

But the older I get, the more I realize something important: love without structure drains us. Love without boundaries depletes. Love without self-protection slowly turns into resentment.

Let me explain.

In my trauma-informed fitness journey, I began to understand that my back injuries — as well as my lack of progress in Olympic lifting — traced back to improper form, technique, bracing, breathing, and old fears. My lower back, without proper tension, was forced to receive the full impact of the weight I was carrying.

I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t incapable. I simply wasn’t supported correctly.

When I corrected this with my trainer, something shifted. An old limiting belief fell away as I proved to myself that I could perform these movements successfully and without hurting myself. So much changed with the implementation of proper bracing (among other things). With proper engagement, my body could carry weight efficiently instead of absorbing unnecessary strain.

And slowly, I began to notice a parallel.

In my personal life, I had weak boundaries. I struggled to say no. I constantly carried guilt about disappointing others. I learned young that being soft, yielding, and over-giving helped keep me safe from losing people.

At one point, that strategy worked. It preserved connection. It protected me.

But like that soft core without tension, I was leaking energy and absorbing the impact of stress to save others from it — and I always ended up getting hurt in the process.

Through strength training, I learned something that reached far beyond the gym. Taking the proper steps to brace and protect myself didn’t mean I wasn’t loving others. It didn’t make me cold or hardened. It meant I was safeguarding something sacred — a capacity for love and compassion that deserves boundaries.

Because how can I show love and compassion when I’m bitter from over-giving?

This is where the conversation around fawning becomes important.

For those who may not be familiar, fawning is a stress response alongside fight, flight, and freeze. It often develops in environments where staying small, accommodating, or overly attuned to others feels necessary for safety. For many women — especially those shaped by generational trauma or strong cultural expectations — this response can become deeply ingrained.

We confuse softness with self-erasure. We confuse compassion with self-sacrifice. We confuse connection with compliance.

But they are not the same.

Bracing in a lift is not rigidity. It is intentional engagement. It is structure that allows movement to happen safely. It is what makes strength sustainable.

Boundaries function the same way.

When we engage our core during a heavy lift, we protect our spine. When we strengthen our boundaries in everyday life, we protect our sacred life energy. We create internal support so we can carry weight without breaking ourselves down in the process.

And this matters beyond us.

When women learn to love without disappearing, we change the tone of our homes. We change what our children witness. We change what partnership looks like. We change what is modeled in community. We shift what is tolerated, what is expected, and what is passed down.

Love without self-erasure doesn’t divide us — it stabilizes us.

So, ladies, those of you who are familiar with fawning — whether it’s generational trauma passed down to you or something shaped by your upbringing — I invite you to take a stand to protect what is most sacred within you:

Your ability to love without self-erasure.

Because the world does need love.

But it needs a kind of love that can carry weight.