The Gift of Breath is Personal

My Journey Into Somatic Breathwork

I’ve been no stranger to stress and overwhelm. Being born just before the tech boom, and as a child of second-generation Holocaust survivors created its own kind of perfect storm of anxiety. It was in that storm that I tried to understand who I was, what was expected of me, and how to simply be in a world that often felt too fast, too loud and too demanding.

Like many, I grew up in a one-size-fits-all system that did not have the support infrastructure to nurture my sensitivity and curiosity. My nervous system was often running in the red zone. I simply wanted to enjoy life, play and explore myself and the world but found myself cycling through anxiety, frustration, self-doubt, and a quiet depression that made me feel small. The increasing rise of constant connectivity - cell phones, notifications, the unending access to everything only added to the sense that I was drifting further from myself.

Eventually, I found myself in a psychiatrist’s office, unsure of how or if I should continue on my chosen path. I tried everything: conventional treatments, herbs, meditation, support groups, and strict nutrition plans. Some of it helped for a while, but nothing lasted. And much of it was expensive, draining, or felt like just one more thing I needed to make the difference.

How I found breath…or really, how breath found me!

It was during a relatively quiet period when I was working a low-stress but unfulfilling job while trying to recover from a difficult stretch, that breath found me, almost by accident. A good friend invited me to a monthly drop-in Breath-Body-Mind class focused on somatic breathwork. I went along on a whim, not knowing what to expect. The session was gentle, simple, and unexpectedly easeful. I remember drifting off at one point, which was new for me. I had been able to let go like that! When I came back, I felt lighter. Refreshed. Different.

That night and the next day, I noticed small but undeniable shifts: a calmer nervous system, more space inside myself, a quiet steadiness that stayed even while I worked. The way the instructor guided us not as a teacher lecturing, but as someone holding space made all the difference. (That instructor, as it happens, later became my mentor.)

From there, breath became my anchor. I began a daily practice every morning, and sometimes in the evening For the first time, I had something that worked with me instead of against me. Where I once spiraled into panic, I now had a simple, accessible tool that helped me respond rather than react.

Over time, other practices came and went, but breath remained my anchor. It gave me calm, quiet, openness, and space, and without side effects, without cost, without needing anything external. It connected me to a steadiness that was - and is - always there.