I used to be a powerlifter. Now I'm disabled.
I used to be a powerlifter. Now I'm disabled.
Living purposefully with evolving limits
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“The evolving limits of the human body, especially the disabled body, are a reminder that we are not entitled to our dreams.”
What to expect:
Transitioning from Powerlifting to Disability
The author, a former powerlifter, shares their experience of becoming disabled in their 20s, highlighting the profound changes in physical abilities and life circumstances
Evolving Limits and Purpose
The author emphasizes that humans, like all species, have diverse limitations and abilities, each playing a crucial role in the broader ecosystem
Acceptance and Redefinition
Accepting evolving limits allows for grieving past dreams and redefining new, realistic goals aligned with current abilities
How to live a purposeful life with evolving limits
Accepting a changing body
“I used to be a powerlifter,” I exclaimed, exasperated as I leaned over to pick up my cane.
It was the very edge of summer, and I could feel time stop as the sun beat down and the cold wind danced around me. I had paused at a wooden fence to rest my cane, prop up my leg and tie my ugly yet fashionable supportive hiking shoe.
“I used to be a powerlifter.”
The sentence felt heavy, like saying it threatened to burst open a black hole in the very space-time-continuum where I was standing with my friend, who I was visiting in Toronto.
And yet, saying it also made me weirdly feel lighter. Like, I had finally actually admitted to myself that my body’s limits had shifted drastically, and I was no longer the person I used to be.
I felt an air of acceptance laced in the streaks of wind that slapped my face as I walked on through the park, shoe tied and cane in hand. I was no longer a 23-year-old powerlifter on the cusp of squatting 400 lbs and breaking a provincial record. I was 26, with an ever-inflamed body, soreness and fatigue that followed me around 24/7, a never-ending list of life-saving medications and a mobility aid.
Becoming disabled in my 20s
It took me a year of agony before I finally began to accept that becoming disabled did not just mean my body would change. It also meant my whole life would change. I would never be the powerlifting, able-bodied go-getter I once was. My limits had shifted, and there was no returning to the past.
All the things I was once capable of that I probably took for granted now feel like a distant, luxurious dream. The limits I once learned I could push to achieve success had shrunken smaller and smaller, slipping away the same way sand slips seamlessly through your fingertips. I had still yet to find out where they landed.
In the year I went from chronically ill to disabled, my close circle burst open and uncoiled before my eyes. If I could not cater to the needs of those around me, I was only worth being discarded. I slowly realized that a new social circle must now be formed with the knowledge that I am not a limitless bundle of energy, service, and action, but more realistically need to be surrounded by people or kind neighbours who are willing to accommodate my intense fatigue and help me with the minor, mundane task of staying alive.
Becoming disabled as a person in my 20s brought forward an acute awareness of the limits and miracles of the human body. In a sea of never-ending hyper-capitalist narratives to always keep going, never give up, always push your limits and reach for the stars, my disabled body seemed to be a reminder I could not shoot off on my jetpack and try to conquer the world. Rather, I had to stay back and lay down while everyone else ran on an endless hamster wheel toward their dreams. I became painfully aware that my life would not be defined by what I thought were my dreams and deepest desires, but rather by my body’s limits which I had not chosen and did not want.
Even as I write this, I can barely process the depth and sole-crushing grief that comes with shrinking limits. I simultaneously feel acceptance as deeply as I feel the depression-inducing anxiety that my body’s abilities can be ripped away from me at any moment, no matter how much I try to fight it.
Despite our changing limits, we all have an important role to play in the world
All humans have diverse limitations and abilities. And, despite those limitations, each of us has a purpose in the world. Humanity is filled with diverse bodies and disabilities and capacities to work and do other activities, though we often assume everyone has the same limits. Many things have become normalized in Western society that have us assuming everybody is and should be the same. For example, the expectation that everyone must work ‘regular’ 9-5 job to be considered productive, all bodies that do not fit the narrow standard of beauty are expected to ‘just lose the weight,’ and with the onset of social media, everyone must work toward an internalized superhero narrative of ‘saving the world’.
In the context of the greater natural world, humans are not alone in our limited capacities. We are animals functioning in a delicate ecosystem of other humans and animals. And, in each animal kingdom, there are species that ‘do more’ for other animals and species that do less. The limits of the lion are much different than those of a spider. And yet, each animal, no matter how small a bug or how large a mammal, has a fundamental role to play in helping achieve balance, growth, and equilibrium in the planet’s ecosystem.
While getting my BSc. degree in Natural Resource Science, I learned about how fundamental each species is to the health and survival of an ecosystem. For example, in a rainforest ecosystem; various insects provide food for Pacific salmon, who provide food for killer whales, who filter water and allow for the balance of prey to be in check. The bugs come from the trees, fall into streams, and feed the salmon. When the salmon die if they have not been eaten, nutrients in their bodies seep into the forest floor and continue to serve the entire ecosystem. Each species, no matter how big or small, is fundamental in keeping a rainforest ecosystem moving smoothly along.
Redefining Dreams
The evolving limits of the human body, especially the disabled body, are a reminder that we are not entitled to our dreams. It’s easy to forget about the limits of the body, mind, or ones embedded into our environment until we are forced to look at them. Despite the narrative that there is nothing between us and our dreams except our power of will and tenacity to build something great, this is not always the case. Our dreams are not always our destiny. But, for whatever reason, we may have to chase a dream until we can learn what re-direction G-d has in store for us.
As our limits shift and change, our dreams have to as well. What was once my dream to be a competitive powerlifter, morphed into a dream to find a kind of exercise that I could simply enjoy pain-free. With having and abandoning dreams, comes inherent loss and grief. When we dream, we envision a version of our lives where that goal has been realized. To release a dream, one must grieve the version of themselves that had envisioned the dream to be within reach. We must grieve again and again and again and again as our limits may change and our dreams evolve.
Our limits expand and shrink over time and then gradually shrink as we age, or illnesses, burnout, or disabilities progress. Each time, we must redefine to ourselves what our true dream, or purpose, is.
Finding purpose
After accepting our limitations and mourning the lives we will never have, we can begin to redefine what a meaningful life looks like. Once I accepted my progressing disabilities, I was able to grieve my life as a powerlifter and accept that my workout routine needed to shift to adapt to my evolving limits. I released my dream of achieving record-breaking power-lifts, and am now learning to train for the strength and longevity of my body’s functions, so I can live as independent of a life as possible.
For humans with disabilities and various other limitations, our dreams will need to be a byproduct of our newly accepted limitations. They must be rooted in a careful understanding of our body’s edges. Knowing that we may be limited by added fatigue, less mobility or a need to rest often, we can redefine our dreams and purpose with this knowledge in hand.
After accepting our evolving limits, we can redefine our purpose. Living a purposeful life does not necessarily mean having a singular goal, but rather, can be an enthusiasm that is proactively acknowledged and infused into each action, hobby, or routine of your day. Having dreams and purpose is meant to make the daily mundane beautiful and intentional, putting you in the driver’s seat of your life. Living a purposeful life is ultimately a culmination of purposeful daily, typically mundane and unglamorous actions one after the next.
For example, it is possible to do a task as small as washing the dishes with purpose. Without purpose, we likely will resent the chore and even avoid it. But when the purpose of washing dishes is to have a tidy home and a clear head so we can accomplish more the next day, then completing the action feels much more satisfying.
Whether your purpose is to get a noble prize in physics or to make one person smile a day, all actions are capable of being infused with purpose. A purposeful life is one that will never be useless or worthless because it does not ‘do enough.’ A life of purpose is one that serves to make the world a better place in the capacities and capabilities that we realistically have.
I try to keep this newsletter as accessible as possible. But, it takes a lot of work, especially while I’m also balancing creating content for Instagram, my main source of income, and managing my own progressing disability. If you find some value in my writing and can afford a paid subscription, I’d deeply appreciate it. It really helps me continue putting time aside to write these articles. Thank you so much.
