My Journey to Breath.

I could understand my emotions — but I couldn’t actually feel them.

Even since my early 20s I’d say I’ve been a pretty self-aware person. I was deep in a process of self-discovery and reflection, all in an attempt to better understand myself and my actions.

But despite it all, I felt stuck.

I had no problem self-analysing. I could explain my patterns, my fears, my behaviours.
But when it came to actually feeling my emotions — there was a bit of a block.

Loneliness was a big one. Alongside a fear of not finding love. Most days I’d catch myself thinking at least once: “when am I actually going to meet someone?

My solution at the time was to go deeper into my head. Podcasts, books, conversations—anything around spirituality and self-development. I thought if I could just understand myself—and life—well enough, I’d finally feel at peace.

And while it helped.. it never quite felt like it hit the spot.

Here’s what made the difference..

Then, one day in 2022 a friend, James, invited me to a conscious connected breathwork session. I went in open-minded, but without any kind of idea of what to expect.

I sat down on a mat in a beautifully-lit space. The ceilings were high and there were huge windows spanning from the floor all the way up, overlooking a serene, vibrant garden.

After an introduction and explanation of what we were going to be doing during the session, we were invited to lay down, close our eyes, and begin paying attention to our breath. The facilitator began a playlist, and then encouraged us to begin our conscious connected breath (CCB).

(If you’re unaware, CCB is a specific style of breathing that involves taking full inhales and releasing on the exhale - with no pause in between, making it a cyclical type of breath. It’s also typically performed with an open mouth.)

What I experienced surprised me.

The music paired with the breath took me on a journey. My mind slowed and I really felt connected to myself and the moment right in front of me.

As the session progressed, I started to notice emotions coming through. Sadness, compassion, love. I could feel the emotions within me building—like I was on the edge of a deeper emotional release. But I couldn’t quite break through.

The session lasted about 45 minutes, yet it felt much shorter. As it came to a close, we were invited to slowly open our eyes and bring ourselves back to a seated position. I looked around the room and saw that practically all 10 or so of the other participants - including my friends Ryan and James who I’d gone along with - were in tears.

That was when I knew there was something to this breathwork thing.

I went to a few more sessions after that, but never quite reached that same intensity. So, I drifted away from it.

Not long after, I started a relationship. There was so much that was genuinely beautiful about the 2.5 years that we committed to each other. But, as difficult as it was, part of me knew deep down that it needed to come to an end.

And when it did, it hit hard.

Out of my head and into my body.

A lot of emotion came up all at once. Emotions I hadn’t really allowed myself to feel before. Luckily I knew what to turn to - I came back to breathwork, and this time, it really connected.

I reached out to my friend Ryan - the same Ryan who I’d shared that initial breathwork experience with years prior - as he had recently qualified as a breathwork facilitator. We did 3 or 4 online CCB sessions. The emotional shifts I experienced were exactly what I needed.

They allowed me - a guy who had spent years in his head - to finally actually drop into my body and feel. To feel sadness without resisting it. To let things move through me instead of analysing them. And in doing so, I was able to actually move forward through the breakup, bit by bit.

The journey goes on..

Today, I still have moments of sadness and loneliness. I still sometimes catch myself fearful about what the future might look like. Those feelings haven't completely disappeared.

But, I can safely say that breathwork has changed my relationship to those feelings. I’m able to witness them, welcome them, delegitimize them, and trust that they, just like everything else, will pass.

What’s more, my breath has become an anchor. It’s something that brings me back to myself and to the present moment. It helps me feel at peace by myself, even while still desiring connection.

Lastly, yet perhaps most significantly, it allows me to make more conscious, aligned decisions. I feel more capable to make choices from a place of love and trust, rather than choosing from fear or rushing into something just to fill an internal void.