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Often breathing is taught as a practice that can help us push “through” whatever difficulties we are experiencing. We are encouraged to breathe through the pain. Breathe through the grief. Breathe through the stress.
That hasn’t worked for me.
It didn't work two weeks ago when I was in court for the 4th time. It didn't work when I pushed through the courthouse doors to shake in my 90 degree car, AC blasting, tears gushing from my tired eyes. It didn’t work during my thirty-eight hour labor with Solomon. It didn’t work in any of the painful breakups I’ve experienced. It didn’t work when I read the news about my latest book not being as successful as my first.
I am no longer interested in pushing aside what I am experiencing. I am no longer willing to breathe through what hurts with the goal of getting to the other side, over there, someplace else, that perceived place that is better than here.
I’ve spent years pushing through, overriding my body’s signals, ignoring my needs for food, rest, and healthy friendships, to name a few. I’ve clung to the belief that if I can just get to that imaginary place in the future I will be safe. I will be okay. I will have what I need.
What I’ve been in the process of discovering over the last eight years, is that all this pushing, all this trying to breathe through, get through, make it through, is a deeply ingrained trauma response. That part of me that feels urgency to hurry up and heal, hurry up and feel better, hurry up and get there already, has saved me from so much. This urgency has also kept my body in states of ongoing contraction, strengthening the systems in my body to fight, flight, and eventually freeze in overwhelm from all I am navigating with limited capacity. After all, breathing “through” insinuates getting to the other side, getting to completion or resolution.
Even with years and years of breathwork and somatic practices in my tool kit, I struggle to stop urging my body into obedience. To stop pushing, to stop rushing, to slow down, to breathe gently in my day-to-day activities. Often there are parts that are too scared, too stressed, too concerned to “release with each exhale.” As much as I want them to shift, allowing the full range of release of my breath, release of tension, I’ve had to learn to practice with what is uncomfortable. Instead of trying to urge a release or ignore altogether the places that contract, I let them be there. I acknowledge the contraction is there for a reason. I honor the innate intelligence of my nervous system. And I breathe with it. Not through it, not over it, not around it. With it.
Breathing “with” is about expanding our capacity to remain present with all that is. Breathing “with” honors where we have been and what we are holding. Breathing “with” affirms nuance and offers us a way back to self-compassion rather than being in a constant mode of needing to move through, change, resolve, or fix. Breathing “with” reminds us that healing is cyclical and that we are not wrong, or broken.
And so, I want to breathe with the relief and grief that came that day after court. I want to breathe with that one spot to the right between my shoulder blades that hasn’t quite let go. I want to breathe with the parts of my system that want to fight, freeze, and run away.
I want to breathe with all aspects of myself present. I want to honor what is contracted, what hurts, and what needs to grieve. I want to breathe with myself, to hold myself in kindness, care, and love.
… but how?
How can we breathe with the parts of us that are contracted, scared, grieving, resistant?
How can we allow the full range of who we are, in our openness, and in our protective patterns?
How can our lives change if we’re not constantly striving to get through the present moment to a better one?
As I sit with these questions, I find myself looking forward to exploring them together in the How to Breathe Immersion. If you’d like to join me, upgrade to a paid subscription any time before we begin this Wednesday, June 26th.
I hope to see you inside.
With deep care,
Ashley
Dear Ashley, from the perspective of old age I witness younger friends pushing, striving, driving forward, and I wonder what for? Because all the achievement doesn't seem to engender any more happiness. A friend wrote to me yesterday that she works 17 hours a day, she's respected by her bosses, and for the course she's been completing at the same time as a big and important job, she got two distinctions.
I didn't reply. I didn't think there was anything constructive I could say, but I thought how glad I am that I gave up important job and spent the last ten years of my working life as a gardener, loving every moment, loving my dear clients, and being loved by them. I know you like Thich Nhat Hanh. He has a lovely meditation in which he say 'nothing is as important as my peace'. I agree. Pushing through is the antithesis of peace. Love Kate
Just a shift in preposition use makes a huge difference in meaning. “Through” vs “with” takes you from future focused to present living. I love there.