How somatic breathwork transformed my grief
Grief has a way of seeping into every part of our lives, even when we think we’ve moved on. For years after my sister’s death, I lived in the fog of grief. Mentally, I was coping as best I could, but because I was active in sports, my body found a way to release some of the tension after every practice. Still, even two decades later, I realized that grief was still lurking in my body, even though I was in a good place. At least, that’s what I thought.
I remember attending my first grief and loss conference five years after Stacy died. I felt like a deer in headlights. I engaged in small talk with a few people and attended two workshops, but I didn’t feel present. I felt like I wasn’t fully in my body; I was floating outside of myself. Even now, two decades later, I can’t fully explain why I felt that way, but I just remember feeling disconnected. Sometimes we get so caught up trying to make sense of our grief that we forget that sometimes, talking isn’t what is needed.
How does somatic breathwork connect to this?
As a social worker, I’ve spent years listening to others share their grief and trauma. While talking can be incredibly healing for many, I’ve also seen cases where it felt like talking wasn’t helpful. Some people seemed stuck, retelling the same story over and over; and for others, revisiting their pain only deepened their wounds. I wanted to find a skill that could help those who didn’t want to talk about their grief and trauma, and those for whom talking wasn’t enough.
I first encountered somatic breathwork two decades after Stacy’s death, during a time when I was searching for something to address the parts of me that felt stuck and unresolved. My first few sessions left me skeptical. I stayed in my head, wondering when the magic was going to happen. At the end of each session, others often shared profound breakthroughs, while I simply felt calm and grounded. I honestly felt like I was missing out, and wondered when I would have a breakthrough.
At first, the practice felt mechanical, like I was doing it wrong. But as I learned to trust the process, focusing on my breath and allowing it to deepen, something shifted. The shift wasn’t during my first, second, or even third session; but by my seventh session, my body finally began to soften. With each exhale, I felt a deeper connection to my body, allowing it to express the grief it had been holding onto for decades. Tears came — not from sadness, but from release. I wasn’t just remembering my grief. I was letting it move through me, out of the tight places where it had been lodged for so long.
A lifeline to healing
That session was transformative. I walked away feeling lighter — not because my grief was gone, but because it no longer felt like a burden I had to carry alone. Somatic breathwork gave me a way to connect with my body as an ally in healing and transforming my grief, rather than seeing grief as a barrier to overcome.
This experience ultimately led me to become a certified somatic breathwork practitioner. I wanted to help others access the same kind of transformation and renewal I had found. For me, somatic breathwork isn’t just a practice. It’s a lifeline. It’s a reminder that even amidst pain, we have the power to find relief, connection, and hope through something as simple and profound as our breath.
Stephen Stott, Founder of Embrace The Darkness LLC, guides people through somatic breathwork practices. Most people experience the benefits and release from just one session. Find out more and download a free 5-minute practice at www.EmbraceTheDarkness.org