
I’ve been meditating and practicing various breathwork techniques for a couple of decades.
I also am someone who can still spin off from being very grounded into a state of anxiety, which I’ve noticed escalate in the past year and especially soin the past month, as I sit in my central Texas home and watch the news and videos from Minneapolis. It’s Feb. 1, 2026, y’all.
Maybe you are feeling the anxiety too.
To me, anxiety expresses itself as a voice buzzing around my head, full of anger, shock, horror, confusion, outrage, blame, grief, helplessness.
My beloved yoga teacher calls this voice “the roommate in your head” that has a comment on everything. Many people experience this so-called internal dialogue.
If it’s a dialogue, who is talking, and who is being talked to (or at)? The talking seems kind of compulsive. The “listener” just takes it in. It’s not a debate. It’s more of a monologue, part gawking at the unbelievable, part the desire to blow off steam.
The voice of anxiety can keep me awake at night, and that affects my sleep, which affects the quality of my life and interactions and capabilities the next day, when I want to be functioning at my best.
So here’s what I’ve been exploring that I want to share with you: Lying in bed, I move my attention from the roommate in my head to my body, specifically to my breath.
It feels reassuring to sense the natural rhythm of my breathing.
I don’t try to do anything special, just let my body breathe as it will, which it does all the time anyway when I’m not paying attention. There are numerous breathwork techniques available, but for now, I enjoy simply breathing and witnessing. I enjoy the relaxation of something simple and repetitive.
I notice what moves in my body when I breathe. My rib cage expands, then my belly, and my spine lengthens on my inhalations. On exhalations, the reverse happens.
I get into the nuances of it. There’s a brief pause between inhalations and exhalations, and between exhalations and inhalations. Sometimes I need an inhalation that is bigger than the others. It seems like a reset button.
Is there sound? Can I feel it in my pelvic floor? In my back? Shoulders? Neck? Throat? Nostrils?
By bringing my attention into my body’s natural rhythm, the roommate in my head gets quieter and quieter until it’s silent. My mind gets a break from anxiety.
Sometimes I experiment. If my anxiety buzz is louder than usual, I add words: “breathing in”, “breathing out”, again and again and again.
I could add a visual element in my mind’s eye, something repetitive like ocean waves or windshield wipers, but haven’t done that so far.
Sometimes something kind of magical happens. I notice that a foot, or the back of my neck, or a chakra blossoms with pleasant-feeling life force energy (chi, prana, potency, whatever you want to call it).
I invite it to grow and spread. Sometimes my whole body is immersed in this energy. It’s like quiet, peaceful bliss.
What an alternative to anxiety! I fall asleep, and sleep well, and the next day is so much better than it likely would have been if I’d laid awake, mind whirling with anxiety.
The return to the breath and the move away from anxiety allows me to find my way forward, to decide how to use my resources for good, and take action from a more grounded state.



