There’s a phrase I hear in almost every breathwork space: “let go of what no longer serves you.”
No doubt it’s well-meant, I understand why facilitators reach for it, and it’s become one of my genuine bugbears as breathwork becomes so popular. Here’s my view on it- everything we carry served us once, and very often still does even up to the point where people lie down on their mats at the start of a session.
Take hypervigilance- that actually kept us safe when we had to read someone’s mood as they walked through the door. The numbness we now resent was the anaesthetic that got us through unbearable times. The people-pleasing, the armour, the addictive tendencies, the overworking, the perfectionism, the inability to cry- none of these arrived by accident, these were all really smart adaptations to impossible conditions.
So when a facilitator invites a room to let go of what no longer serves them, often what the body actually hears something like: “the thing that saved you, a really important part of you that’s been there for most of your life- just throw it out.”
But the body doesn’t work like that, and I think what actually softens the body is recognition, not dismissal- “I see you. I know what you protected me from. I know what it cost you to stand here this long. I know you’re a part of me. Thank you.”
Something shifts when a protective & adaptive part is embraced. In my sessions I’ve watched shoulders drop and breath finally reach the belly when people were invited to acknowledge what their tension had been doing for them all along, and to me that’s the difference between letting go of parts of ourselves and embracing our wholeness– one is a kind of amputation, the other is true integration.
Another reason why I avoid the phrase is that letting go often skips grief. If something served us for ten, twenty thirty or more years- even something painful- then suddenly being encouraged to let it go is a kind of death. There’s a mourning in it, and to rush past that mourning is bypassing dressed as soft language, and I think the body knows the difference.
To me, nothing in us was ever our unwanted or unworthy.
Fear, shutdown, rage, numbness- these are’nt defects to be released on an exhale, they’re parts of us which have been overworked and underappreciated, and I think what they need is acknowledgement.. and a well deserved chance to rest.
The body has held these parts no matter what came along, often long after the mind has moved on. It also remembers the conditions that made them necessary, again even after the mind has moved on, and when someone breathes into that place with acknowledgement rather than pressure to let go, I find that something different happens- the tension isn’t being forced out so it doesn’t have to defend itself, it softens naturally in its own time. Sometimes there are tears, sometimes there’s heat, tremoring, a deep sigh, sometimes there’s even laughter, and then sometimes nothing visible happens at all- but people share afterwards that they feel more “whole” than when they came in, and I think thats just beautiful.
To me, that’s real work. The Japanese actually have a word for this which I really like- “zanshin”. Relaxed alertness. The protective parts are still there, ready if needed, but they’re no longer clenched and holding and scanning for threats.
So I don’t use that phrase in my sessions, instead I might say: “notice what you’ve been carrying, and where you carry it.” Or: “breathe into the part of you that’s been holding on, and let it know it’s been seen.” Or simply: “thank whatever has been working so hard to keep you safe.”
They’re just small changes in language, but I think they make a big difference. I don’t think people need to be asked to let go of parts of themselves, I think they need to be helped to meet all the parts of themselves- in some cases for the very first time- and that’s where true growth & learning starts- because when these parts feel seen they often loosen their grip without ever being asked to do so.
