I first noticed it in myself on an ordinary afternoon, sitting at my laptop and working through a long list of emails. I opened one I’d been putting off, and as I read it I realised I wasn’t breathing at all. My shoulders had crept up towards my ears and my jaw was set, and the breath had simply paused somewhere around the second paragraph. Since then I’ve heard versions of this from so many people in sessions, and I’ve come to see everyday breath holding as one of the most common and least noticed things we do.
Where we hold the breath
Once I started paying attention, I found that I held my breath in all sorts of small moments. I held it while reading a message I wasn’t sure how to answer and while waiting for the kettle or a page to load, and I held it in the second before I spoke up in a meeting and again when I carried the shopping up the stairs. None of these moments were dramatic, and that’s part of why they went unnoticed for so long.
Screens seem to invite it in particular. It’s sometimes called screen apnea, a name for the way the breath tends to become shallow or pause altogether while we focus on a screen. You might feel it as a slight tightness across the chest or a heaviness in the shoulders by the end of the day, without quite knowing where it came from, and often it has been building quietly with every small pause.
Noticing breath holding with kindness
When people first notice their breath holding, there can be a temptation to turn it into one more thing they’re doing wrong. I’d gently invite you to meet it differently. The body usually holds the breath for a reason, often because it’s concentrating or bracing a little for whatever comes next, and there’s a kind of intelligence in that. It has been trying to look after you in its own way.
So when you catch yourself holding, you might simply say a quiet hello to it. You might notice where the tension sits, and then let the next breath arrive in its own time, without forcing anything. Over weeks and months this small act of noticing tends to happen a little more often by itself, and in my experience that gentle awareness is usually all it needs.
A small practice to try
This is something you can try at your desk or wherever you find yourself during the day. Please go gently with it, and feel free to stop at any moment and simply breathe normally.
- Choose a small everyday cue, like opening your inbox or picking up your phone, and let that be your reminder to check in with yourself.
- When the cue arrives, pause for a moment and notice whether you’re breathing or holding, without trying to change anything yet.
- If you notice you’re holding, you might let out a soft and easy exhale through the mouth, as if you’re setting something down.
- Let the next inhale come in through the nose in its own time, and allow a couple of natural breaths before you carry on with what you were doing.
There’s no need to count or to get it right. If it ever starts to feel effortful, you can let it go and come back another day. Some breathing practices aren’t suitable for everyone, especially the more intense ones, and you can read more about that on our page about breathwork contraindications. This practice is a very gentle one, and your body is always the best guide to what feels right.
Practising together
I’ve found that these small moments of noticing become much easier when they’re supported by a regular practice. When we spend a longer stretch of time with the breath, the body seems to remember it more readily in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, and the pauses get noticed a little sooner. That’s a big part of why I hold The Weekly Reset, our live online sessions on Wednesdays from 20:00 to 21:15 and Sundays from 09:00 to 10:10 Irish time.
We come together to slow down and to notice what we’ve been carrying through the week, and to give the breath a bit more room again. Membership is €22 a month, and there’s a free two-week trial if you’d like to see how it feels before deciding. You would be very welcome to join us, whether you’ve been breathing with us for a while or you’re simply curious.
Whether or not we breathe together, I hope you’ll be kind to yourself the next time you catch your breath waiting somewhere. It’s a small sign that you’re paying attention, and that’s a lovely place to begin.
