No matter how long we’ve been on our grief journey, we know grief doesn’t move in a straight line. There is no set timeline, and it certainly doesn’t follow a clearly defined path. It arrives in waves, sometimes slowly and quietly, and other times fiercely and loudly.
When a wave of emotion hits, our sympathetic nervous system goes into fight-or-flight mode in response to the stress grief brings on. It feels as if we are drowning in a sea of sorrow as our heart rate climbs, we tense up, and our breath turns shallow and fast. Although this is a normal stress response, it can leave us feeling even more overwhelmed, agitated, disconnected, and distressed.
Alternatively, when that next wave of emotion resurfaces, breathwork activates our parasympathetic nervous system and can interrupt the downward grief spiral. We can think of it as a buoy that helps us stay afloat. By slowing and deepening our breath, our body receives a signal that it’s okay and safe, so we can begin to calm down and return our nervous system to a regulated place.
Don’t get me wrong… I am not suggesting breathwork takes grief away. It doesn’t; however, it does give us a tool to stay present, to cope in the moment, and to slowly learn to live with the loss, instead of running from it.
Grief stirs up a wide range of emotional waves, including sorrow, anger, love, nostalgia, and even guilt, to name a few. However, we don’t have to get swept under by them for too long. Rather than pushing the emotion away, our slow, intentional breathing creates enough spaciousness to feel it all. Breathwork doesn’t ask us to resolve or remove those feelings; it simply asks us to breathe alongside them, long enough to notice they can coexist.
Breathing, journaling, walks in nature, and being in community with others who understand are all self-care tools to help us through our grief journey.
Breathwork and journaling pair naturally: a few slow breaths before picking up a pen can settle the body enough to let the words flow purely and authentically.
Let’s try this together. It’s called box breathing.
When grief surfaces, pause. Place a hand on your chest or belly. You can do this with your eyes closed or open. Just envision a box. Breathe in slowly through the nose, feeling the breath expand the ribs. Count to 4, then release it slowly through the mouth.
Inhale for 2, 3, 4. Hold for 2, 3, 4. Exhale for 2, 3, 4. Hold for 2, 3, 4.
This even, four-part rhythmic breathing gives the mind something concrete to follow, which can be a relief when thoughts are racing, or grief has made it hard to focus on anything at all. The exhale, in particular, activates the parasympathetic nervous system, gently easing the fight-or-flight response.
A few rounds (even just one minute) are often enough to bring the nervous system back from the edge of overwhelm. Your mind may wander, and that’s okay. Just bring it back to the breath again.
Grief asks us to feel deeply. Breath gives us a way to do that without losing ourselves in the process. One inhale, one exhale, one moment at a time.
Come breathe with me.
