A Better Way To Breathe

Everyone has a story,’ says the petite blonde woman propping my head up with pillows.  ‘But here, you don’t have to tell it.’

To ears either side of a clinically anxious mind – all talked out by counselling – this is sweet music.  I’m done with talking, but I still need help.

It’s been one month and 15 days since I last saw my blood-flooded, gasping reflection in the bathroom mirror having a panic attack.  Quite a while, by my standards.  But uncertainty, intense vigilance and the constant hum of anxiety remain, never quite allowing me to relax.  So I’ve dome to a ‘breathwork’ class, that at a cost of £90 aims to teach me to breathe – you know, properly breathe – in an effort to achieve lasting calm.