The moment I realized my body was always holding its breath

There's this quiet test I've started doing lately that has completely changed how I understand my own nervous system.

"What happens if I try to relax, right now?"

Every time I ask, I get the same answer: I realize I've been tense.

Not because something's wrong. Not because I'm in danger. Just… because that's what my body has learned to do.

And what surprises me most? The tension doesn't feel dramatic. It feels normal. Familiar. Invisible—until I pause and look for it.

Maybe you know this feeling. That low-grade holding that lives in your shoulders, your jaw, the space between your ribs. The way your body seems to be bracing for something, even when you're safe at home on a quiet evening.

This is what chronic stress does. It teaches our body to hold its breath—metaphorically and literally—because it never feels quite safe enough to fully let go. And over time, that tension becomes background noise. We don't even notice it. Until one day, we ask: "Am I holding?" And the body says: Yes. But thank you for asking.

Here's what I've learned: that moment of noticing isn't failure. That's regulation beginning to return.

You don't have to stay relaxed all the time. You only need to practice the return.

You don't have to chase peace. You don't have to force stillness. You only have to be willing to ask the question: "What would soften, if I gave it permission?"

Even one breath of release is enough. Even one second of awareness is progress. You can come back to your body—again and again. And every time, it will remember the way a little better.

There are gentle ways to lengthen those seconds of softness—without pressure, just presence. You might try naming it softly, saying "There you are" when you feel yourself relax. It builds trust with your nervous system. Let breath lead to movement: roll your shoulders, unclench your jaw, place your hand on your heart. These micro-signals deepen safety.

Sometimes a simple cue helps—a song, a candle, a sip of tea. When paired with presence, it becomes a bridge back to peace. And you can speak kindly to your body with phrases like "Nothing is being asked of you in this moment" or "It's safe to soften now."

You don't need to stay soft forever. You only need to return. And each return counts.

If your body exhaled while reading this, trust that. Maybe this is your reminder: you're not doing it wrong. You're just relearning how to return.

Some things are worth saving for when you're ready. This might be one of them.

In the return,

Laura