Photo of a mural by Claudio Schwarz
Narrated by Lushika Preethrajh
It’s five months into 2025, and if we’re being honest, most of us are exhausted.
Not just from the headlines or the elections or the unrelenting pace of everything, but from the weight of trying to stay hopeful when the world feels like it's breaking apart. Some of us are glued to the news, some are numbing out, some are fighting back, and some are just trying to get through the day without spiraling.
In times like these, it’s common to feel like there’s nothing we can do — like we’re too small to make a difference. But what if reclaiming our power doesn’t start with changing the world out there? What if it starts with grounding ourselves in the world within ourselves?
Your nervous system doesn’t know what year it is.
When we’re overwhelmed, our breath is often the first thing to go. Our bodies tighten, we enter constant alert mode, and we forget to exhale.
Our nervous system is designed to protect us. It scans the world through all of our senses — what we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel — to detect danger.
- When we smell smoke, we’re alerted to a potential fire.
- When we see something suspicious, we get a gut feeling of danger.
- When something feels off, even if we can’t explain it, our body responds.
This system has helped humans survive for thousands of years. But here’s the tricky part: your nervous system doesn’t always know the difference between real and immediate danger and something that simply feels dangerous because of past experience.
For example, if you’ve lived through a traumatic earthquake, even a small tremor later on can trigger full-body panic. Your nervous system remembers the fear, not the scale of the event. It doesn’t know the difference between a two and a ten; it just knows something scary happened once, and it doesn’t want it to happen again.
For me, one of those triggers is driving. I’m naturally alert when I’m behind the wheel, but if a car behind me makes the same turns I do — especially as I’m heading home — my thoughts start to spiral. Are they following me? Why are they taking the same route?
Even when there’s no actual threat, my body reacts as if there is. And that’s not wrong; that’s my nervous system trying to keep me safe.
When we’re flooded with political tension, climate anxiety, social division, and personal uncertainty, our nervous system is on high alert almost constantly.
This isn’t weakness. This is biology. But we rarely ask ourselves how the anxiety is manifesting in our bodies.
How are you holding all of this in your body?
In my work with people across the Tri-Cities — caregivers, veterans, parents, professionals, and students — I see it every day. We clench our jaws, breathe shallowly, and tighten our muscles. Yet we keep telling ourselves that we’re fine.
You don’t have to be fine. You don’t have to pretend this is normal.
You deserve tools that help you feel more grounded, connected, and in control, even when the world around you feels chaotic.
One of those tools is something we all have access to: our breath.
Don’t just breathe to survive. Breathe to remember.
Breathe to remember that our bodies are wise.
Breathe to remember that we are not our fear.
Breathe to remember that we are stronger as a community.
Kindness is not a checkbox.
In the Tri-Cities, we are a mix of backgrounds, cultures, identities, political beliefs, and lived experiences. That’s part of what makes this community vibrant, but sometimes it’s challenging to navigate.
It’s easier to stay in echo chambers where people look, think, and vote like we do. It’s safer to scroll past discomfort, to silence difference, or to reduce someone’s entire humanity to a few opinions or behaviors. Social media has made it all too easy to dehumanize, turning people into ‘us’ and ‘them’ and casting strangers as enemies before we ever know their names.
But it’s not just algorithms and media. Sometimes the deeper harm comes when those in positions of power — whether in politics, religion, education, or leadership — use their influence for personal agendas instead of the collective good. When accountability is absent at the top, how do we hold our communities, systems, and ourselves to higher standards? How do we advocate for others without becoming targets?
But I get it. You might be thinking, “Why should I care about someone else’s story when they don’t seem to care about mine?” Or maybe, “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve lived through.”
And you're right. I don’t.
But maybe that’s where we begin: not with assumptions or convincing, but with curiosity.
Recognize the possibility that there’s more to each of us than meets the eye. Maybe someone’s story would surprise you. Maybe yours would surprise them, too.
We don’t have to agree on everything to start seeing each other as humans. And that small shift, as simple as it sounds, can begin to change everything.
When we slow down long enough to listen, something softens. Walls come down. Lines blur. What’s left is something we all long for: to be seen, to be understood, and to belong.
What can we control?
We can’t control elections, algorithms, or the next big headline. But we can choose how we show up. We can slow down, breathe deeper, move our bodies, and reconnect to what we know is true beneath the noise: we all want to feel safe, loved, and important.
This isn’t about politics. It’s about humanity.
So when the world feels too loud or too divided, take a moment. Feel your feet on the ground. Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly.
Let that breath be a quiet rebellion against fear.
Then reach out to someone. Ask a question. Listen to a story. Invite a conversation — not a conversion.
The more we see each other the harder it becomes to unsee our shared humanity.
And maybe that’s how we begin to heal.
Stephen Stott is a certified somatic breathwork practitioner, grief educator, and founder of Embrace The Darkness LLC. He helps individuals and communities navigate grief, trauma, and overwhelm through body-based practices that reconnect people to their resilience and humanity. Learn more at EmbraceTheDarkness.org.
