From Disconnection to Deep Breaths: My Journey into Breathwork

Before I discovered breathwork, I lived in a quiet state of chaos. On the surface, things appeared fine, a steady job, friendships, maybe even the occasional smile when it was expected, but inside I felt completely disconnected. Disconnected from others, from any real sense of purpose, but mostly from myself.

Insecurity was like a constant shadow. It followed me into conversations, relationships, decisions, always whispering that I wasn’t good enough or that if people really knew me, they’d walk away. Vulnerability felt like a luxury I simply couldn’t afford. I wore masks to protect myself, believing they made me stronger and confident, but in truth, they only made me feel more alone. I had a deep sense of loneliness and being alone.

Then breathwork found me. Not as some dramatic, spiritual awakening, but as a quiet nudge. A friend mentioned it. I heard it in a podcast. Eventually, curiosity (and maybe a little desperation) pushed me to give it a try. I had recently split up from my husband of nearly 20 years and I moved out to be on my own for the first time in my adult life. All of this happened in the first lock down. I felt completely lost, from myself and others. I wanted and needed connection at the worst time possible (Covid).

Then the day came when we were allowed to do normal things. I still remember my first session vividly. It was strange. Uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it 'right'. It was part of a package with a local holistic practitioner for relaxation - which I desperately needed. My mind raced, filled with thoughts like “This is silly,” and “What’s meant to happen here?” But somewhere between the inhale and the exhale, something began to shift. Not dramatically. Not all at once. But something softened.

Breath by breath, layer by layer, I began to meet myself. Not the polished, filtered version I showed the world, but the raw, aching, human me. The part of me that just wanted to be seen and accepted. Breathwork didn’t ask me to impress or perform. It simply asked me to breathe. To be. I felt myself cracking open. Slowly and small at first, with apprehension of not knowing what was happening or if I could even be vulnerable enough to allow it to happen.

I’ve cried during sessions. Shaken. Laughed. Felt numb. Felt light. Felt heavy. It’s not always graceful, and it’s definitely not always easy, but it’s real. Breathwork has given me a space to be messy, honest, and unguarded. It’s the first practice that didn’t ask me to be anything other than what I already was. And that has changed everything.

Now, I understand that insecurity isn’t something to be ashamed of, it’s a doorway. Vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s truth. Disconnection isn’t permanent, it’s a signal. Through breath, I’ve started to learn how to listen to my body, regulate my nervous system, and how to come home to myself. Again, and again. Each time a little easier, a little more comfortable.

Breathwork hasn’t fixed me. Because I was never broken. It simply reminded me of that.

If you’re reading this and feel like you’re on the outside of your own life, carrying armour that’s become too heavy, I invite you to try just one breath, all the way in, and all the way out. Start there.

This isn’t a story with a tidy ending. It’s an unfolding. And I’m still breathing through it. But breath by breath, I am letting the light and love in.