Safes Spaces: Warrior Breath

"Inhaling is an active process. Exhaling is a passive process. Retaining the breath after an inhale will energize the body. Retaining a breath after an exhale will relax the body.”

This quote struck me. That has not been my experience. As someone who is a member of numerous marginalized groups inhaling and retaining my breath are almost reflexive. The retained breath does energize my body. However, that breath is rarely released and inevitably turns toxic.

Our minds and bodies aren’t meant to be in a constant state of activity yet turning them off can feel even more dangerous.

What if I unplug to finally get some "me time" then someone needs something and can’t reach me? Will I lose my job? Will I lose my children? Will I lose my husband? Will I lose my house? Will I lose everything?

Those questions may seem excessive. They may seem unreasonable. They may seem unrealistic. They are all of those things, yet so many of our realities at the same time. Whether or not any of them will happen, that’s the kind of thinking that stops us from taking care of ourselves. That’s the kind of thinking that gets us to de-prioritize "me time."

We convince ourselves that taking care of business is taking care of ourselves. Making money, making sure everyone else is taken care of, those are the things that will ensure at some point we are taken care of. And so we press on, holding our breath and letting our (toxic) energy fuel us as we take care of everyone and everything but us. And it works…until it doesn’t.

At some point our bodies and minds stop us. There may be warning signs along the way, mostly ignored, but even if we’re limping at that point, we stay in the race. We don’t let injury stop us. We keep going because (we think) we have to.

I once heard someone say of the Black superwoman trope “it’s a cement necklace meant to look like pearls.”

I felt that on every level. We make it look easy. We make it look effortless. No one see our tears. No one sees the breakdowns. No one sees what’s behind the big fake smile plastered across our faces. No one sees the pain and fear in our eyes. No one hears the tightness in our voices when we say “I’m fine.” “I’m good.” “I’ve got this.” No one knows we’re not fine. We’re not good. We’ve got this...but it’s killing us. We keep going through it all. But at what cost?

The times I have exhaled have been active and noticeable. If anything, I didn’t realize I was stuck on inhale until I actively exhaled. Relaxing doesn’t come easily to me. I'm constantly moving, going, doing, achieving. Thinking I'm running on adrenaline. Not realizing I'm running on empty. I now know that is steeped in trauma.

Trauma does a number on us and we’re so busy running from one thing to the next, we don’t realize that we’re not really running toward something. We’re running away from something.

What we’re running from is our trauma.

That fear that things will fall apart if we stop? Trauma. That need to make as much money as possible as quickly as possible? Trauma. That feeling that we will be judged if we acknowledge we can’t do it all? Trauma. The shame we feel when we make a mistake? Trauma. That fear that we will be “exposed” as human? Trauma.

To be Black is to be traumatized. To be a woman is to be traumatized. To be mentally ill is to be traumatized. To be physically ill is to be traumatized. To be LGBTQIA+ is to be traumatized. To be poor is to be traumatized. And the list goes on.

There are so many parts of our identities that are steeped in trauma. There are so many of us stuck on inhale. There are so many of us retaining breath that has turned to toxic energy.

At this point, exhaling isn’t passive at all. If anything, exhaling is an act of defiance.

To exhale, we need to feel safe. We need room to think. Room to process. Room to breathe. We need to know that our lives won't fall apart in the time it takes to release the breath we didn't even know we were holding.

I'm still learning to recognize when I've been holding my breath. I'm still learning how to exhale without the benefit of safety. After decades of unknowingly holding my breath, I'm finally learning how to breathe - learning how to live - wounded, humble, defiant warrior style.

Through the Safe Spaces series, we will be exploring trauma, healing, hope, and what each of us can do to create safe spaces for ourselves and each other.