Try breathing through it

Imagine you’ve stubbed your toe, or banged your shin on the coffee table. When that pain hits, you suck in your breath and hold it for a second. Your brain has sent a signal to your body that you are in danger. You freeze.

Now imagine the way you exhale after that moment of intake: slowly and steadily, right? When you breathe that way, the pain subsides a little. Breathing is the best way to remind your body that it is safe. But when we’re in pain–be it physical or emotional pain–we don’t necessarily remember that. Our lizard brains can only report DANGER and so we hold our breath. How can we make the change and remember to breathe when we are suffering? Only with practice.

Here I should tell you that I am not good at practicing this in my real life. I won’t pretend here that I am an expert in mindfulness or even deep breathing. Just like doctors make for bad patients, therapists are not always beacons of mental health ourselves. But that kind of work–being mindful, and present in your body, and taking deep breaths when you are dysregulated–is a practice. That means you don’t have to do it perfectly or even all the time. It means you can practice doing it as you are able. It can be a process made up of small changes; you don’t have to become Zen Master You. The goal here is just to try it out.

So the next time you are in pain–a stubbed toe or a broken heart–take some deep breaths. Remind your body that you are safe. See how it feels. And if you don’t do it perfectly, or every time, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the practice of it. What matters is caring for yourself.

Carrying the weight of grief

Grief brings its own kind of exhaustion. Clients often tell me that they think they’re getting enough sleep—they’re going to bed at a reasonable hour and sleeping through until the morning, minus the usual up-to-pee-at-3-in-the-morning—and yet they still feel tired all the time. Why is that, they want to know? Often it’s the weight of their grief, holding them down even as they try to move through the day.

I’m no somatic therapy expert but it’s widely accepted that our feelings show up in our bodies. It’s no coincidence that we describe being “gutted” or “broken-hearted” when something upsetting happens; we often feel emotional pain in a physical way. We cannot disconnect our minds and our bodies, no matter how we sometimes try.

Just like any other heartbreak, grief can show up physically: as exhaustion for instance, or a general achiness throughout the body. Sometimes you may cry so hard you become short of breath for a minute. We cannot ignore the physical pain and weight that grief exerts on us. So if you feel tired, headachy, occasionally short of breath, certainly check in with your primary doctor first. But after you get the all-clear, spend some time considering: is carrying the weight of your grief hurting you?

This is not to say you’re doing grief wrong. All the ways you grief manifests are normal, if awful. Rather, I hope you take away that if you are suffering, you are not alone. No one can take your pain away from you but others are willing to help you carry it. There is no burden you have to shoulder alone, even (especially) your grief. This is your invitation to reach out—to a friend, a lover, a stranger, a therapist—and let someone else share the weight with you.