t was around 2016 or 2017. My hands curled tightly, my body shook, and suddenly I could hardly feel my arms. Titany. That’s the word for it — when the muscles contract and tingle, when energy moves in ways that feel bigger than you. At that time, no one really spoke much about safety or integration. Breathwork was more of a curiosity than a practice of healing. And I was terrified.
But something in me was also deeply curious.
Because beneath the fear, I could sense there was more.
I began reading. About the power of breath. About traditions where breath has been the bridge between body and spirit. Stories of people releasing trauma, shedding layers they didn’t even know they were carrying. Books, teachers, healing practices from around the world — all pointing to the same truth: the breath can change everything.
Eventually, I found my way to David Elliott’s work, and to my teacher Michelle Baker in Stockholm, who had trained with him. By then I had already been attending breathwork sessions for years — lying on the floor, breathing until images rose, memories surfaced, and emotions I had pushed down finally found their way out.
Sometimes I felt paralyzed, unable to move my hands or lift my head. Other times, I cried, laughed, or trembled. Each journey was different, but always a reflection of what my unconscious had been carrying. The breath was showing me what my mind alone could never reveal.
Over time, this practice became not only healing, but essential.
It helped me release what had been trapped in my body for years.
It gave me insight when my mind was clouded.
It softened me, opened me, and connected me to something larger.
And that is why I eventually chose to train as a breathwork practitioner myself.
In the three-part breath tradition I share today, we begin by setting the space — whether in circle or one-to-one. We bring forward a theme. We breathe together. And afterwards, we rest in meditation, allowing everything to settle and weave in.
What happens in those spaces is beyond words. People release emotions they didn’t even know they were carrying. They remember, they grieve, they laugh, they reconnect with themselves. In the group setting, something even more powerful unfolds: people mirror one another. They hold space for each other. Healing moves deeper, carried by the safety of the collective.
This is why breathwork has become my passion.
It weaves together the physical, the emotional, the mental, and the spiritual. It brings us home to ourselves — one breath at a time.
If you feel curious, perhaps this is your moment to explore.
To notice what your own breath might reveal, or what it feels like to be held in a safe space where the body can finally let go.
You don’t have to know what you’re carrying.
You only have to breathe.
But something in me was also deeply curious.
Because beneath the fear, I could sense there was more.
I began reading. About the power of breath. About traditions where breath has been the bridge between body and spirit. Stories of people releasing trauma, shedding layers they didn’t even know they were carrying. Books, teachers, healing practices from around the world — all pointing to the same truth: the breath can change everything.
Eventually, I found my way to David Elliott’s work, and to my teacher Michelle Baker in Stockholm, who had trained with him. By then I had already been attending breathwork sessions for years — lying on the floor, breathing until images rose, memories surfaced, and emotions I had pushed down finally found their way out.
Sometimes I felt paralyzed, unable to move my hands or lift my head. Other times, I cried, laughed, or trembled. Each journey was different, but always a reflection of what my unconscious had been carrying. The breath was showing me what my mind alone could never reveal.
Over time, this practice became not only healing, but essential.
It helped me release what had been trapped in my body for years.
It gave me insight when my mind was clouded.
It softened me, opened me, and connected me to something larger.
And that is why I eventually chose to train as a breathwork practitioner myself.
In the three-part breath tradition I share today, we begin by setting the space — whether in circle or one-to-one. We bring forward a theme. We breathe together. And afterwards, we rest in meditation, allowing everything to settle and weave in.
What happens in those spaces is beyond words. People release emotions they didn’t even know they were carrying. They remember, they grieve, they laugh, they reconnect with themselves. In the group setting, something even more powerful unfolds: people mirror one another. They hold space for each other. Healing moves deeper, carried by the safety of the collective.
This is why breathwork has become my passion.
It weaves together the physical, the emotional, the mental, and the spiritual. It brings us home to ourselves — one breath at a time.
If you feel curious, perhaps this is your moment to explore.
To notice what your own breath might reveal, or what it feels like to be held in a safe space where the body can finally let go.
You don’t have to know what you’re carrying.
You only have to breathe.
