What a Recent Pain Flare Taught Me About Breathing

Over the past few weeks I've been experiencing one of the biggest pain flares I've had in years. As many of you know, I've lived with endometriosis for a long time, so pain isn't new to me. This flare has reminded me of something I talk about with clients every day. When pain changes, breathing changes too.

One of the first things I noticed was how quickly my body slipped into protection mode. I wasn't choosing to hold my breath, tighten my jaw, lift my shoulders or breathe high into my chest. It all happened automatically. I found that fascinating because, even though I teach breathing for a living, my body responded exactly as it was designed to. Pain arrived and my nervous system did what nervous systems do. It tried to protect me.

I think that's something we often forget. It's easy to become frustrated with ourselves when our bodies react in ways we don't like. We wonder why we're so tense, why we're holding our breath or why we can't seem to relax. But those responses aren't signs that something has gone wrong. They're signs that your body is trying its best to keep you safe.

I see this all the time with the people I work with. Whether it's back pain, headaches, arthritis, pelvic pain, an injury or recovery from surgery, pain often changes the way we breathe. We start bracing around the painful area, tightening muscles that don't need to be working so hard and becoming more alert to every sensation. Many people begin breathing faster or more shallowly without ever noticing it's happening.

There's a good reason for this. When the brain detects pain, it treats it as a possible threat. The nervous system responds by preparing the body to protect itself. Heart rate may increase, muscles become more guarded and breathing often becomes less efficient. Those changes are helpful in the short term because they're designed to get us through something difficult. The challenge comes when pain sticks around and the body never quite gets the message that it can ease out of that protective state.

This is where breathing starts to matter. Not because breathing causes pain, and I want to be clear about that, but because it influences so many of the systems involved in how we experience it. The way we breathe affects our nervous system, muscle tension, circulation, heart rate variability and our ability to move between stress and recovery. When breathing becomes restricted, rushed or held, the body has a harder time finding the conditions that support healing.

One of the biggest misunderstandings about breathing is that it's simply about oxygen. It isn't. Healthy breathing relies on a careful balance between oxygen and carbon dioxide, efficient movement of the diaphragm and a nervous system that can move in and out of protection when it needs to. Breathing is also deeply connected to how safe the body feels. When we stay stuck in a protective breathing pattern, it's common to feel more tired, more tense and less able to cope. Not because we're doing anything wrong, but because the body is working hard behind the scenes.

Over these past few weeks I've found myself returning to the basics again and again. Not because breathing makes the pain disappear, and not because I believe every symptom can be breathed away, but because it changes how I move through the experience.

I've come back to gentle nasal breathing, softening my exhale, noticing where I'm holding tension that doesn't need to be there and bringing my awareness back to my jaw, shoulders and belly. They're simple things. They haven't taken the pain away, but they have created small moments where my body feels less guarded and less caught up in protecting itself.

As the weeks have gone on, I've realised something else too. Pain is never only the physical sensation. The physical part is absolutely real, and when you're in pain it naturally demands your attention, but it also affects how we think, how we respond and how we relate to ourselves.

I've noticed moments of frustration. Moments where I've wanted my body to do something different. Moments where I've become completely focused on trying to make the pain stop. If you live with ongoing pain, I imagine some of this will feel familiar.

What this experience has reminded me is that healing and fixing aren't always the same thing. Sometimes healing doesn't mean making something disappear. Sometimes it means staying connected to yourself while you're moving through something difficult. Listening a little more closely. Softening some of the fight. Giving your body what it needs where you can, while remembering that pain may be part of your experience without becoming your whole identity.

The breath hasn't made this pain disappear, and I never expected it to. What it has given me is somewhere to come back to when everything feels overwhelming. It helps me notice when I'm bracing. It helps me soften some of the tension pain naturally creates. It gives me small moments where my body feels a little less tight, a little less guarded and a little more settled.More than anything, it helps me stay connected to myself.

I'm still in the middle of this. There isn't an ending yet, and I don't have a perfect lesson to wrap it all up.

What I do know is that breathing isn't only something we pay attention to when life feels good. Sometimes it's during the hardest moments that our relationship with our breath matters most. It doesn't change the situation we're in, but it can change how we move through it. For me, that's been enough to keep coming back to it, one breath at a time.

If you'd like to learn more, I run functional breathing and Deep Dive Breath workshops throughout the year.

Mel

P.S. Change your breath. Change your life.