There’s nothing niche about breathing—we’ve been doing it since the beginning of time. Despite centuries of evolving wellness trends, there hasn’t been some great breakthrough about how to breathe properly. And yet, in modern culture, especially in the West, we’ve managed to overcomplicate something innate and essential. People try to brand breathing techniques, package them like proprietary systems, and sell them as if they’ve invented the wheel.
But at its core, breathing is simple. And it’s deeply connected to how we manage anxiety.
Anxiety and the Shallow Breath - Because of our naturally occurring anxiety, many of us train ourselves over a lifetime to breathe more shallowly than is healthy. We don’t even notice it. It’s a learned, unconscious habit rooted in subtle fear. When we don’t interrupt that cycle, we drift into emotional reactivity, and we operate from the subconscious mind. That’s the default mode of addiction.
So the first step in interrupting anxiety? Take a breath. A deep, full one.
It doesn’t matter whether you prefer a 5-second inhale, a 7-second retention, or a lion’s breath with your tongue sticking out. Use whatever technique works in the moment. But know this: the technique that works today may not work tomorrow—especially when your nose is clogged with pollen, or you’re stressed, or you’ve just had a fight with someone you love. Your nervous system is fluid. So your breathing must adapt.
From Chaos to Control - The next step is redirecting your focus. Not just to the breath, but into it. Away from obsessive thinking. Away from the loop of fear and distraction. Your breath is your anchor, your regulator. The breath, heart rate, and nervous system all synchronize when we shift our attention deliberately.
That’s what emotional control really means: the ability to regulate your reactions when your nervous system gets hijacked.
As kids, we have no such control. We are at the mercy of our emotions and triggers. We inherit our parents’ self-esteem, their anxiety, their habits of reactivity. And unless we do the inner work, we carry that burden into adulthood.
Breath as the Bridge - When anxiety hits, our heart rate spikes and the sympathetic nervous system activates—fight, flight, freeze, or addictive escape. But through breath, we can access the parasympathetic nervous system—the calm, reflective brain. In that state, we don’t need to fight or numb ourselves. We simply observe. We return to presence.
And that’s the real goal: to shift out of subconscious reactivity and return to the now.
Practicing Present Moment Awareness - It might start with a simple check-in:
What do I feel in my body? My neck is tight. The room is chilly. I ate a good meal. I’m grateful for the roof over my head. I wish I was cuddling with my wife, but she went to bed early.
That’s the emotional inventory. Then comes the deeper layer: I’m feeling a longing for connection. It’s a familiar anxiety—decades old. Ah, there it is… I struggled to feel connected to my mother. That early wound got reinforced in later relationships. It’s not just about her—it’s about me. I sometimes chase love like it’s a drug. And when it doesn’t come easily, it hits my self-esteem. That old fear kicks up: Maybe I’m unlovable.
But now, I don’t panic. I breathe. I recognize that this feeling is old, even if it feels new. The vibration of fear might still run deep in my nervous system, but I don’t have to let it control my actions.
From Reaction to Response - When those feelings rise, I have tools:
Yoga.
Writing.
Organizing the business.
Helping someone new in sobriety.
Designing product labels.
Spending time with my kids.
Listening to lectures.
Reading.
Breathing.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But I never stop trying.
There were years when breathing exercises did nothing for me. Why? Because I never took the time to actually focus on the breath. Not even during yoga class. It wasn’t until about five years ago that it finally clicked: Stop trying to master the breath—just stay with it.
How I Breathe in Yoga - In hot yoga, I take long, slow, full breaths. To enter a pose, I exhale fully. Then inhale. Exhale again. Sometimes I reverse the rhythm, depending on the posture. When a pose is intense, I might accelerate the breath, but I never skip the full inhale or exhale.
Sometimes I retain the breath—not hold it out of panic, but as a mindful act. I focus. I soften. I feel my body open. When I release the breath, there’s a tangible sense of healing. I visualize the oxygen moving through my bloodstream, carbon dioxide leaving my body. That visualization brings physical relief. It helps me stay steady, stay grounded, stay present.
Staying Open Outside the Studio - When I leave class, that state often lingers—for hours, sometimes longer. I stay open. I stay aware. And because of that, I have to be careful who I spend time with.
Sometimes it’s not the right moment to hang out with Uncle Tony, who likes to drink a six-pack and talk shit about the neighbors. No judgment—he’s got his way of coping. But when I’m in that open, vulnerable state, I need to protect it.
Other times, I do go sit with Uncle Tony, and I laugh. Because I love him. And maybe, while I’m there, I can model a little stillness. Maybe I don’t get pulled in.
Maybe I just breathe.