Strength to Strength: Mitchell's Story

Strength to Strength: Mitchell's Story

By Nonjabulo Mlangeni

In our latest blog, we profile Mitchell Eckert, an aerialist and circus acrobat. Mitchell discusses the events leading to his diagnosis at age 17, along with his later journey to achieve mental health, career success, and a remarkable physical transformation.

When Mitchell Eckert considers which Klinefelter's symptoms he saw in his youth, the dominant one was lack of focus. The world seemed loud, and the stimulation was overwhelming. In all its usual bustle, the classroom was a minefield of distractions. A creaky desk, a flickering light, a cleared throat ... endless disturbances to get him off track.

Test-taking was especially stressful, as it was hard to sustain attention. But focus was tough across the board.

"Looking back, I'm like, 'gosh, I just wasn't [present]," says Mitchell. "I was constantly getting distracted within my own head. I had lots of ideas and couldn't focus. If someone dropped a pencil, my brain reset, and I'd need you to repeat yourself. But, at the same time, the class just keeps moving ... so that was always really hard."

As a pre-teen, his mother took him to get tested for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), but he was found to be fine. It was only after his XXY diagnosis that he finally understood how focus could be such an issue, yet still not amount to confirmed ADHD.

"Looking back, it makes sense. Because all these mental things I had going on were [really] a symptom of another condition [XXY]. So, of course it's not going to be its own thing."

Mitchell also remembers wrestling with his body image. Although he wasn't pumping iron, he was highly engaged with dance. But while other active boys were building muscle, he was "just skin and bones." And yet he pushed his body just as hard.

He took acrobatic dance, which demands a high level of strength and agility. It certainly took a physical toll. But he didn't know that constant fatigue and physical weakness were not normal. Today, he understands that these were also symptoms of Klinefelter Syndrome.

Diagnosed at 17

Mitchell's love for dance laid the groundwork for diagnosis. He was mid-class, doing a complex move called a chest stand: "where you lay on your stomach, bend backwards and kick your feet over your head."

While this sounds highly uncomfortable to non-dancers, this move doesn't typically cause chest pain. Yet Mitchell felt it—and felt enough of it to become concerned. His mother took him to see a doctor.

"She just tapped my chest and gave me a little physical exam," he recalls. "She said, 'your chest is developing breast tissue fat, so that's why you're getting sore.' And she was very good at testing for the right things [based on what she saw]. She tested for a bunch of things, and that's how I got the diagnosis."

Social Development

On the social front, Mitchell didn't face much adversity. Though he was painfully shy as a young boy, he developed a core friend group as he got older, and chose to value quality over quantity.

"I was never someone that had a ton of friends. I always had two or three that I was close to on a deep and personal level; I was very happy with that."

Like many men with XXY, Mitchell felt more comfortable befriending women. At the time, he attributed this to his sexuality. "I had more girl friends in general, because I'm gay," he says. "I thought that was just from me having more feminine qualities." But part of it was about feeling separate from other boys.

"I did feel left out from the boys, but that's probably the result of having estrogen while in a male's body from the time that you're a kid. It's just a distant feeling ... I felt distant."

Notably, Mitchell is still young, being just 24 at the time of this interview. I ask if he has advice for even younger men who are struggling with the same things that he's overcome.

"What I'd say to anybody at any age is: if you're uncomfortable with something, just work on it. It's so much better than sitting there, unhappy about it ... Because I was so self-conscious in my body, I wish I'd started working out earlier. Instead of just sitting in that discomfort."

Dizzying Heights

But that old helplessness is long gone. Today, Mitchell is a circus acrobat, enjoying the fruit of years of hard work. It's not just that he's managed to build strength and muscle, it's that he's constantly doing things that most people can't replicate.

"In my job, if you want something, you have to work really hard for it," he says. "Just this week, I achieved two of my dream skills that I didn't even think my body was capable of. I didn't think they were on the cards for me, and I did both in one week."

He sends me a video that looks straight out of Cirque Du Soleil. He's dangling from a large hoop that's suspended in the air. First, it's his arms supporting his weight, then he lowers himself and relies mostly on the muscles in his neck.

He makes it look relatively easy. Dancers always do. But the journey there is often brutal.

At 18, and during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Mitchell moved to Vancouver to enroll in circus school. Remarkably, the ongoing shutdowns led many talented performers to pivot into teaching.

"A lot of the acrobats in Cirque Du Soleil were laid off due to COVID, and they came to our school to teach. So, we had the best trainers and coaches. It was actually a blessing in disguise to be there at that time."

"The first year was really tough because I was still lengthy and not muscular ... I was very insecure and didn't want to take my shirt off around anyone. I didn't want people to see my bones. We did very hard conditioning and I got tired fast. I was slower than everyone else because I wasn't as strong."

It may have been too much too soon. The combination of being in a new environment, doing heavy conditioning and trying to maintain a social life proved hard to sustain. Today, he thinks things would've gone better if he'd started slow and gradually increased the workout intensity. Instead, he had no room to adjust.

"I had 1-2 panic attacks almost every day," Mitchell recalls. "I'd sit in the bathroom and cry for, honestly, up to an hour sometimes. So, I'd waste the rest of the day, and it would suck. I'd then go home, and cry and have more panic attacks."

Eventually, he started taking antidepressants, was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder, and began taking medication for that too. Ultimately, he was on treatment for less than two years, and believes there was more of an inner work that needed to be done.

"I stopped taking medication and I've actually been really good," he says. "I've never had a problem with [those things] since. But I think I got really deep into medication, and it made me worse, because it's not for everybody."

Changing the Narrative

In speaking to many men with XXY, hidden potential has been a notable theme. More specifically, I've seen how their potential is sometimes masked by the environment. In many cases, the failure to perform (or conform) in rigid settings convinces people that they just lack smarts, skills or abilities.

Yet, in some cases, these same men discover that they just struggled in that particular setting. Sometimes due to pressure, sometimes due to the environment. In Mitchell's case, he's now using some of the skills that seemed to elude him in the classroom.

"It was never that I wasn't smart," he says. "I'm very knowledgeable about the field I'm in now and the safety requirements. Being an independent contractor, I also do the administrative work myself. I do my own taxes, and actually enjoy it. I love doing my spreadsheets and my marketing. It's just that, in the classroom sense, it didn't work out."

Then, Mitchell makes an interesting distinction. It's not that he's a math whiz, it's that he has a photographic memory where numbers are concerned. This allows him to recall long sequences of digits, and simplifies some of his admin work. Notably, he's the second man with XXY I've spoken to who's mentioned having a photographic memory.

The Bigger Picture

For Mitchell, the last few years have been a season of stretching. But he's now reaping the rewards. Just a week before we spoke, he launched his own circus and entertainment company, called Cirque Lucid. He's ready to tackle new frontiers, and the year ahead looks like one for the books.

Come September, he's performing at a festival in Italy, and before the year's out, he'll be starting in a Cirque Du Soleil Christmas show.

All in all, he's content. The only XXY-related issue that still bothers him is the discomfort that comes with frequent injections. Since starting testosterone therapy at 18, he's gone from self-injecting, to having a nurse do it, to doing it himself again. He's also cycled through various injection sites, but hasn't found one that makes the process easier to get used to.

This is partly due to his fear of needles, and partly due to injection site pain that can make dancing uncomfortable. For now, he's returned to injecting himself in the stomach. He still can't bring himself to look. But he knows there are far worse problems one could have.

He's blessed to enjoy great quality of life, with the support of a close-knit family. When he's upset about disappointments or inconveniences, they help keep things in perspective.

"Ever since I was diagnosed, my mom's been really good about helping me consider what's worth being angry about," says Mitchell.

"She'll say, 'if you could put this syndrome—or all the things you have—back in a bowl with a bunch of other things in it, then reach in and grab something else, would you?' And every time I think about that, I say no."