Holding my breath.

I’m pretty new to understanding trauma and how it expresses itself in the mind and body.

I’m learning how brains are made up of a mess of connections, instincts, and processes formed over time by the histories we carry.

A friend shared with me today how they recently discovered some of their health issues trace back to subconsciously holding their breath while on autopilot. Holding their breath for spans of time throughout the day without realizing it had obviously hindered oxygen from getting to their other organs and therefore, negative, chronic symptoms resulted.

I find myself holding my breath often as well and never thought to categorize it as a trauma response, but it makes a lot of sense.

I hold my breath when I’m driving.

I hold my breath when I’m listening to someone speak.

I hold my breath when I’m writing.

I hold my breath when I’m concentrating.

I hold my breath when I’m getting ready to speak.

I hold my breath all the time and never thought much about it until I started doing yoga at home and realized how difficult it was to breathe deeply in the practices. My lungs often feel like cold muscles that have only been shallowly sipping in oxygen bit by bit.

I don’t know if I’d say holding my breath is a trauma response for me personally, but it must’ve begun somewhere and for some reason.

I’m learning how to learn from my body, learn its language, and understand the story its carrying. Perhaps there’s an origin to my subconscious need to be on alert all the time—holding my breath to prepare for the coming moment constantly.