How Breathwork Guided Me Through Grief and Finally Letting Go
I didn’t know what I was walking into that day.
I had been in Ubud for a few months, and Breathwork kept finding me. It wasn’t subtle. It came up in conversations with people I barely knew, in passing comments from friends, in the background hum of Ubud’s yoga scene. I’d never really heard of Breathwork before — or so I thought. Later, I realized I had done Breathwork in the past without realizing that’s what it was. But this time, the pull was unmistakable. It was one of those weeks where the universe seemed to be handing me an invitation I couldn’t ignore.
So I went to a session. I don’t remember what I expected, but it wasn’t what happened.
What Is Conscious Connected Breathwork?
Conscious connected Breathwork is a form of Breathwork where you breathe in a continuous, circular pattern — inhaling and exhaling without pauses between the breath. It’s often categorized under Rebirthing Breathwork, which was developed in the 1970s and became known for helping people access repressed emotions, subconscious memories, and even birth trauma.
Unlike more controlled breathing techniques like pranayama in yoga, conscious connected Breathwork is about surrender rather than control. You're not trying to "do" anything — you’re just breathing. Usually, you’re lying down on a mat, often with an instructor guiding the session with verbal cues and music. The goal is to bypass the thinking mind and tap into the subconscious — to let the breath take you where you need to go.
A typical session starts with deep, rhythmic breathing through the mouth. The breathing pattern creates a physiological response which shifts your brain state. It activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which can trigger intense emotional release, altered states of consciousness, and even physical sensations like tingling or warmth.
People report all kinds of experiences during Breathwork: emotional breakthroughs, spontaneous crying or laughter, visions, feelings of oneness with the universe, even memories from childhood or past lives. It’s not unusual to feel physical sensations like vibration or energy moving through the body. Some people experience the feeling of communicating with loved ones who have passed or receive clear insights about their life. It’s as if the breath opens a doorway between the conscious and unconscious mind.
Unlocking Stuck Energy
That first session cracked something open in me. I lay down on the mat, started breathing in the rhythmic pattern they guided us through, and almost immediately, I felt this deep stirring — like something ancient was waking up. Memories I hadn't touched in years floated up. A tightness in my chest loosened, and without warning, I started crying. Not quiet, polite tears — full-body, uncontrollable sobs. I had no idea why I was crying. But it felt like my body knew.
That’s how the first few sessions went. Crying, releasing, unlocking something that had been locked for so long I didn’t even know it was there. Breathwork had a way of bypassing my mind and going straight to the heart of things. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t measured. It was raw and uncontrollable.
At some point, I discovered Clarity Breathwork. That took things to another level. It became more than just release — it became a doorway into clarity and manifestation. I started getting visions of my future. A sense of calm certainty about what I needed to do. But the most profound gift Breathwork gave me wasn’t about the future. It was about the past.
It was about forgiveness.
Facing the Past
One of the most powerful sessions I had was with my dear friend Destiny Wolf who happens to be a Breathwork facilitator. She and I had been doing one-on-one Breathwork sessions together online, but this time we were side by side in a class in Ubud while she was visiting and someone else was facilitating. It was a special kind of comfort to have her next to me. During the session, I had this flood of memories about my former partner, the one who took his own life years ago — the one I had been trying not to remember.
He and I had come to Ubud together once, years before. A few weeks before this session, I had taken a walk and stumbled upon the first Airbnb we stayed at together. I hadn’t thought about it in years. And there it was, pulling me back into that time.
I hadn’t let myself remember him. Not really. The way things ended was too traumatic. After he died, I shut the door on those memories. I couldn’t look at old photos or listen to his voice in messages. It was too painful. Even when he showed up in dreams, they would turn into nightmares.
But in that Breathwork session, I couldn’t stop the memories. They poured in — the good ones, the happy ones — and for the first time, I didn’t push them away. I let them wash over me.
Afterward sharing my experience with my friend, Destiny hesitated before speaking.
"I wasn’t going to tell you this," she said. "But I think you need to know."
She told me that he had shown up in her session too. That she felt his presence. Like it felt like he was actually there. That he had a message for me — that he loved me, that he was at peace, and that he wanted me to let go of the guilt.
I didn’t know what I believed about the afterlife, but it felt real. The way our experiences were connected, the way his presence felt so tangible — it was hard to explain. But I knew something had shifted. A weight had been lifted.
Asking for Forgiveness
The first step was asking for forgiveness — not giving it.
For years, I carried this deep guilt that I couldn’t save him. That I should have seen it coming. That I should have done more. I had been in many talk therapy sessions. My therapist could say to me, “You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” And I could agree with her. I could understand it intellectually, and I could even say the words out loud — I know this wasn’t my fault.
But the subconscious mind doesn’t work like that. There was a part of me, deep beneath the surface, that still held on to the guilt. It was like my body and my subconscious had recorded the experience differently from my logical mind. No amount of talking about it could reach that place where the guilt lived. That’s why Breathwork was so powerful — because it didn’t work through the mind, it worked through the body and the subconscious. It bypassed the thinking mind entirely and went straight to the heart of the wound.
There was another pivotal Breathwork session in particular that shifted everything. I was lying on the mat, breathing deeply, feeling calm. I thought it was going to be one of those light, blissful sessions. Then suddenly, I felt this sharp pain on the left side of my head that felt like a message that I needed to pay attention.
At that moment, the instructor started leading us through the Ho'oponopono prayer — I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you.
I saw him and lost it. He was right there. I couldn’t look away. We had a back and forth conversation and I was finally able to say the words: I love you, I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you.
That session unlocked something big. But it took time for the next step to come.
Finally Letting Go
It took a long time to get to forgiving him. I had grown up in a faith where forgiveness was expected — almost required. Forgiveness was a moral obligation, even if the person hurt you over and over. That conditioning had put me in dangerous situations before, convincing me to stay when I should have left.
After he died, forgiveness didn’t feel safe anymore. It felt dangerous, like letting my guard down. I held onto my lack of forgiveness as a form of self-protection — a way of keeping myself safe from being hurt again. Forgiving him felt impossible. And yet, piece by piece, Breathwork softened the edges. Session after session, it chipped away at the walls I had built around my heart.
Over the course of several sessions, I saw him again and again. And in the final session, the one that closed the chapter, I saw him with angel wings. He was peaceful. Light.
And this time, I was able to say it: I forgive you.
I told him I loved him. I told him I forgave him. And I told him I was letting him go.
It was the end. It took seven years to get there.
I walked out of that session feeling lighter. Like something that had been weighing me down for years had finally been lifted.
Breathwork gave me that. It gave me release when talk therapy couldn’t. It gave me a doorway into forgiveness when my mind couldn’t get me there.
I’m sharing this because I know how easy it is to stay stuck — to hold onto pain long after it’s served its purpose. Breathwork showed me that sometimes you don’t need to figure it out with your mind. Sometimes you need to let your breath take you where you need to go.
And sometimes, letting go is the most powerful thing you can do.
If You're Considering Breathwork...
If you’ve been holding onto grief or guilt, or if you’re struggling to process deep emotions, Breathwork might be worth exploring. It’s a powerful tool for emotional release and healing — but it’s also intense, and it’s important to approach it with care.
If you’re considering trying Breathwork, I strongly recommend working with a trauma-informed facilitator. Breathwork can open up deep emotional layers, and having a facilitator who understands trauma and can hold a safe space for you is essential. Ask about their training and experience, and don’t hesitate to step away if something doesn’t feel right.
Breathwork helped me heal in ways I didn’t think were possible. If you feel called to it, trust that your breath will take you exactly where you need to go.
