Life Apnea: A self diagnosis

In somatics, breath is a key to unlocking greater awareness and helping us move from fight or flight to rest and digest in our somas. We know that as living organisms, without breath we die. But with this demand for oxygen is also a need for a quality of breath that helps bring aliveness to our full selves.

You’ve probably heard of sleep apnea, a common sleep disorder that causes breathing to repeatedly stop or become shallow while sleeping. When diagnosed, patients are given medical devices to improve their sleep quality, and in some cases, these devices can help keep them alive. But lately, I’ve been focused on my own breath during my waking hours. The depth of my breath, the rate of my breath, and the origins of my breath—deep from my abdomen, expansive from my lungs, or shallow from my upper chest. What has struck me the most is how often I hold my breath or barely breathe during the day.

The patterns of this restricted breath, usually fall into times when I am in deep concentration or stress (e.g. driving in rush hour, scrambling with tech issues on Zoom) or when there is a lot of emotion or conflict (e.g. big emotions from teenagers, scheduling conflicts). What I notice is that when life gets challenging, I stop taking full breaths, or in a some cases, I stop breathing.

This form of apnea, life apnea, as I’ve come to think of it, comes from a place of protection and trying to create safety for myself. I have realized that when I forget to breathe, or hold my breath, I am also contracting my chest, tightening my throat, and often clenching my jaw. I’m shutting down the pathway for breath to flow easily. In doing so, I also feel like I’m creating a wall around my heart as a form of protection from getting hurt, overwhelmed, or feeling big emotions in reaction in others.

The irony is, these complex life situations are exactly whenI need more oxygen, not less. Lack of oxygen in extreme levels contribute to mental confusion, loss of judgment, and decreases in coordination. Even in small amounts, lack of oxygen can impact our cognitive function and physical sensation.

Instead of beating myself up over forgetting to breathe, I’ve taken another approach—I’ve raised my awareness for the patterns of my breath. I’ve thanked my body for trying to protect my heart from getting hurt. I’ve found cues to intentionally practice deep breathing to remind my nervous system that even in difficult times, I can still find my breath.

So now, when I’m in the car, before I leave my driveway, I take a big breath and feel the oxygen fill my lungs completely and exhale with an audible sigh. When I recognize that a family member is bringing big emotions to the table, I take a slow breath and feel my abdomen expand with increased air.

What have I learned? That breath is actually a gateway to so much more. When I find my breath, it allows those other clenched muscles to relax—preventing a fight or flight response in difficult situations.When I find my breath, I also find that time slows down giving me more opportunity to consider responses, ask questions, and really understand the situation instead of just reacting. When I find my breath, I find the magnitude of the situational stress drops. Returning to breath grounds me in the moment and where this issue sits in the larger picture of my relationships, my work, my role of being human.

Invitation:

I invite you to explore your own moments of life apnea—when do you forget to breathe? When does your breath become shallow or faint? How can you acknowledge what triggers those habits and find new practices that help you find your breath?

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