The Exhale

There usually comes a point during my daily sessions that I hear it- The Exhale. 

Yes, capitalization is necessary because it’s a thing. I can feel the energy shift at the sound of it. 

It’s like most patients arrive at the office carried by the whirlwind of life. They sit down, perched on their seat ready to explain their pain to me. They tell me how they feel and what’s bothering them. 

But it isn’t until they are laying down that it comes: The Exhale. 

The collective release of tension, stress, and that last little breath of air. 

The one that gets caught in the bottom of the lungs. Lingering there without movement, stagnant and full. 

I love when I hear The Exhale. 

It signals that this person feels comfortable with their environment and me. Safe, even. 

That this space is THE space for letting it go. 

And that’s my goal, really.

I want you to feel that whatever you are carrying that no longer serves, you can leave it here. 

The knot in your throat that you’ve been pushing down all day?

You can leave it here. 

The anger at your boss for putting more on your plate than you can handle? 

You can leave it here. 

The frustration with your family member, partner, or friend? 

You can leave it here. 

Carrying around the weight of the world is something a lot of us try to do. Some of us may even pretend we are really good at it!

We push our needs to the back burner in order to do the things that are required of us. 

We breathe in our neck and chest instead of into our stomachs because we are trapped at a desk all day. 

We clench our jaws, grit our teeth, and grip our steering wheels without even realizing it.

We forgo self care practices like walking and stretching because we believe we don’t have the time.

We skip water and switch straight from caffeine to alcohol in order to get through our days.

We wrestle with all the thoughts in our heads, tangled and twined. 

The truth is, I can feel when patients are holding onto something. I don’t always know what it is, but I can feel it's presence. 

I feel it physically in the spine and fascia through motion restriction and rigidity.

I feel it when I place my hands on their shoulders.

I hear it in the way that they speak, and I can see it in their eyes. 

This stuff that we carry, it follows us like a ghost from another life.

We carry it with us through the day and most people around us don’t notice. Or, if they do notice it, they don’t take the time to ask “How are you, really?”

And let me be clear here: I don’t always love that question. 

Because I know that the answer to that question sometimes brings the sting of tears to my eyes.

And then shame. Oh, the shame.

Shame for not masking my pain better. 

Shame for not being able to let go of something I know needs to be released.

Shame for potentially drowning this person with the task of sharing the load. 

I think we all tend to minimize our issues or talk ourselves out of sharing them for fear of burdening the ones around us. 

Instead, we numb ourselves.

We eat, drink, smoke, shop, gamble, and lust after things instead of just feeling the emotions that are clinging to our backs. 

We shouldn’t lie to others about the weight we carry every day, but we really shouldn't lie to ourselves.

We should confront it head on. Look it in the eyes and accept it.

We should find the people that we feel safe sharing with, and let it out.

Unleash the ugly, the weird, the raw, and the difficult. Set it free.

And then, after you set it free, practice trust.

Trust that you are enough. Trust that you are properly equipped to handle all that life throws at you.

Sometimes it takes a village, and if you find yourself in need- I would be happy to be a part of your village.