Why I Took Up Archery (And Why It's About Way More Than Arrows)
I didn’t grow up dreaming about bows and arrows. I wasn’t the kid hitting bullseyes in summer camp or obsessively rewatching Olympic highlights. No, I fell in love with archery somewhere between the pages of a fantasy romance novel and a real-life need to feel strong again.
It started innocently enough, one too many late-night reading sessions with heroines who could take down a man, a monster, or a corrupt king with nothing but a steady hand and a string of sinew. There was something so captivating about the calm precision of archery. It wasn’t brash. It wasn’t loud. It was focused. Intentional. Cool.
And one day, I just... went for it. I signed up for a beginner’s class at a local range. I thought it would be a fun hobby. A quirky detail to add to my personality résumé.
But what I didn’t expect was how deeply it would resonate with something raw and quiet inside me.
Fantasy Made Me Do It
If you’ve ever read a fantasy romance, you know the type of character I’m talking about. The woman who slips through shadows, draws her bow with a fluid motion, and drops a charging beast at 100 yards without smudging her eyeliner.
Was it realistic? Maybe not. But was it intoxicating? Absolutely.
Archery in these stories wasn’t just a weapon, it was freedom. Control. Elegance. It didn’t require brute force or a bloodthirsty spirit. It required clarity. Breath. Discipline. A perfect antidote, I realized, to the chaos in my own head.
So, like any normal adult looking for empowerment, I decided to channel my inner literary heroine and pick up a bow.
Strength Without Violence
Here’s the thing: I’ve never been comfortable around guns. Not just on a philosophical level, but a personal, visceral one. The sound, the recoil, the deadly weight of them, none of it made me feel safe. After what I’ve been through (the kind of trauma that reshapes your entire relationship to the world), firearms felt more like triggers than tools.
But archery? Archery was different.
There’s no explosion. No bang. Just tension and release. A whisper of motion and a soft thwack as the arrow finds its mark. There’s power there, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a kind of power that doesn’t rely on fear or noise.
It felt like a way to reclaim strength without crossing a line I didn’t want to approach. Like armor I could wear without needing to fight.
What Happens to the Brain When You Try Something New (Especially With PTSD)
Science moment? Let’s do it.
Trying something new (like archery) activates the neuroplasticity of your brain. You build new neural pathways. You introduce a sense of challenge and curiosity. For people with PTSD, whose brains have been wired by survival mode, this can be transformational.
According to trauma experts, engaging in novel, structured activities can:
Promote mindfulness and body awareness
Reduce symptoms of hypervigilance by providing a safe focus point
Create a dopamine response that lifts mood and builds motivation
Archery checks all those boxes.
Every shot requires total presence. You can’t ruminate on the past or worry about the future while lining up your arrow. You have to feel your feet on the ground, your breath steady, your hands calm. It’s meditation in motion. And your brain? It eats that up.
For me, each hour on the range became a retreat. A break from spiraling thoughts. A controlled, repeatable experience of success and stillness.
The History of the Bow (A Quiet Legacy of Survival and Skill)
Archery might feel niche now, but it used to be essential. Long before firearms, humanity relied on bows for survival. Hunting, war, defense, you name it.
Ancient Egyptians used them. So did Genghis Khan. The English longbowmen were feared in medieval Europe, while the Mongols mastered the art of firing arrows from horseback. Native American tribes developed their own bow technologies, often crafting them from sinew, horn, and local woods.
But even as firearms overtook archery in battle, the bow remained. Not because it was the most efficient tool, but because it was something more: a craft. A discipline. A form of artistry.
To this day, cultures around the world still pass on archery as a tradition, a spiritual practice, or a celebration of ancestral strength. When you hold a bow, you’re holding history. You’re connecting with something older than almost any other human invention.
What It Feels Like to Shoot an Arrow
At first, it’s awkward. Your stance feels stiff. Your fingers cramp. The string smacks your forearm (ouch, yes, wear a guard). But then something clicks.
You draw.
You breathe.
You release.
And when the arrow lands, anywhere on the target, it’s like a little light flicks on inside your chest. You did that. You aimed, focused, and let go. The result? Instant feedback. Not a metaphor. Not a theory. Just a thunk and a smile.
There’s something deeply satisfying about that.
I found myself craving that moment. Not to prove anything to anyone else, but because it made me feel present. Archery became one of the few places where my trauma wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Where I got to call the shots, literally.
Why It Stuck
I’ve tried a lot of things in the name of healing. Yoga. Journaling. Cold showers. (Never again.) But archery surprised me. It didn’t just help, I enjoyed it. And there’s something powerful about choosing a tool that requires gentleness and tension at the same time.
It’s not about hitting a bullseye. It’s about showing up. It’s about standing tall, holding steady, and letting go. It’s about proving to yourself that you can be powerful without being dangerous.
And yeah, maybe also about looking cool.
Should You Try It?
If you’re even a little bit curious, I say yes. Whether you’re processing grief, reclaiming your strength, or just looking for a new hobby, archery has something to offer. You don’t have to be an athlete. You don’t have to be precise. You just have to be willing to try.
Start with a beginner class. Rent equipment. Ask questions. Wear sunscreen. Don’t be intimidated by the guy next to you with the $1,000 compound bow and intense arm tattoos. You’re not there for him. You’re there for you.
And if you fall in love with it? Well, welcome to the club. We have snacks.
The Power in Precision
There’s this misconception that healing is loud. That we have to scream our stories, rage against the darkness, or conquer our demons in dramatic fashion.
But sometimes, healing is quiet. It’s steady. It’s pulling back a bowstring, feeling your heartbeat in your palm, and choosing (deliberately and gently) to aim forward.
Archery taught me that.
And honestly? I’m a better version of myself for it.
So if you see me at the range, headphones in, eyes sharp, channeling my inner elven warrior goddess, just know it’s not about fantasy anymore.
It’s about becoming real again.
If you’re looking for a great deal on your own set, this handmade wooden bow is the one I bought and fell in love with!! I did 40lbs (the drawback weight), but you can do whichever feels more comfortable.
