There I was, setting up the space for my resilience-themed breathwork workshop, laying out mats, blankets, soft lighting, creating the kind of atmosphere that gently invites people back to themselves.
Playlist loaded and ready, I stood alone in the gym. Usually a space where people come to build physical strength, I could feel the energy begin to shift.
From reps and resistance… to stillness and softness.
It was subtle, but something about the quiet, the intention, the breath already moving through the room…
I knew we were about to meet a different kind of strength.
Then, I heard it.
A voice from the radio:
“Today marks the five-year anniversary of the first UK lockdown during the COVID-19 pandemic.”
I paused.
Today is March 23rd, 2025.
I stood still, the weight of that date landing fully in my body.
Five years.
When I planned this workshop, I hadn’t realised it would fall on this date, the day we were told to stay inside.
Shops closed. Cinemas. Restaurants.
And of course… gyms.
It was a strange moment. That day in 2020 also marked a huge pivot in my own life.
I had just taken a leap of faith, leaving behind a secure 10-year career as an NHS dietitian to follow something that felt far less certain, but so much more me.
To become a strength coach and lead people back to their own strength, from the inside out.
It took so much for me to even dare to believe that I might have something of value to offer…
To trust that I could build something meaningful from scratch.
To imagine work that aligned with my values and lit me up.
I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news.
I had just finished a full day with clients at the gym. My new business, launched just that January, was starting to find its feet.
I was making connections, building something from the ground up, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of possibility.
Maybe I could do this.
Maybe this leap of faith wasn’t foolish after all.
And then the announcement came:
The gyms would be closing.
There had been whispers about it for weeks, but I had brushed them aside, trying to stay focused, trying not to let fear creep in.
But in that moment, it was like the rug was pulled from under me.
I had taken what felt like the biggest risk of my life… and now it looked like it might all be over before it had even really begun.
I felt paralysed.
Numb.
Frozen in the uncertainty.
Then came the wave.
The doubt. The shame. The panic.
What was I thinking?
Was I an idiot to believe I could do this?
Do people like me even get to be successful?
Had I just made a massive mistake?
What on earth am I supposed to do now?
I didn’t have the answers then.
And truthfully, I didn’t find them all straight away.
But I kept showing up.
I kept breathing.
I kept moving forward, one step at a time.
And now… here I am.
Five years later.
In the space where that fear first hit me, now guiding others to connect with their breath, their bodies, and their own deep, quiet strength.
The Cost of Grit
When I decided to leave the NHS, I had already spent decades gritting my teeth through some of life’s biggest challenges.
One moment stands out sharply in my memory:
Losing my mum to lung cancer… followed by attending her funeral, sitting my final dietetics exam, and moving house, all within the space of three days.
(I have my head in my hands now thinking about my poor nervous system.)
At the time, I knew it was a lot; but I also believed I was “fine.”
I was praised for how well I was holding it together while everyone else was falling apart.
“You’re so strong,” they said, while I quietly wondered:
When do I get to fall apart? And how?
Because the world doesn’t stop, does it?
There’s always something to do. Somewhere to be. Someone else to take care of.
That became a pattern.
Life threw challenges at me… and I adapted. I managed. I kept going.
And in time, being “the strong one” became part of my identity…inside and out.
But what I didn’t see then was that this form of resilience, built on grit alone, was slowly disconnecting me from myself.
The Quiet Shift
Over the past year, something changed.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was subtle. Internal. Steady.
I began turning inward.
I began listening.
I began breathing, not just to get through the day, but to come home to myself.
And breathwork became a central part of that shift.
At first, it was simply space to pause. To be.
But the more I practiced, the more it became a guide. A teacher. A gentle but honest mirror.
It showed me where I was holding on too tightly.
Where I hadn’t let myself feel.
Where I had been performing strength, rather than living it.
A New Kind of Resilience
Through breathwork, I discovered a new definition of resilience.
One that had nothing to do with how much I could carry or how long I could “cope.”
Instead, it became about presence.
It became about softness.
It became about meeting life as it is, not by powering through, but by staying open to it.
I started to notice a quiet confidence building within me.
The kind that doesn’t need to prove itself.
The kind that says:
“Whatever comes, I’ll meet it; with breath, with presence, and with love.”
This is the kind of resilience I support now.
It’s the resilience I guide my clients toward, in strength training, breathwork, and midlife transitions.
We’re not here to remain unaffected by life’s challenges.
We’re here to stay connected to ourselves in the midst of them.
Not Just for the Big Moments
Breathwork didn’t just support me during those big emotional turning points; it continues to support me in everyday life, in ways both subtle and profound.
It’s the deep breath I take before recording a podcast episode, grounding myself in presence, not performance.
It’s the space it gives me to let creative ideas rise and flow, rather than forcing them.
It’s the tool I turn to when things feel overwhelming, not to escape, but to stay connected.
It’s also what allows me to show up for my clients with a grounded presence, so I can guide them back to their breath, their bodies, and their sovereignty.
This is what resilience looks like now:
Rooted. Responsive. Alive.
Breathwork as a Path Back to Self
In this breathwork session, we explored what it means to feel truly resilient:
To become strong without becoming hard.
To soften without collapsing.
We used the breath to move between activation and regulation. The invitation I extended was to alternate Conscious Connected Breath with Coherence Breathing; resilience in motion.
To guide us, I brought in the journey of the daffodil.
It’s one of my favourite flowers, perhaps because it’s my birth flower, and I’ve always loved seeing them bloom just as I add another candle to my birthday cake.
Or maybe it’s something deeper.
The daffodil doesn’t wait for perfect conditions to arrive.
Here in the UK, spring brings warm days followed by cold snaps…
But still, the daffodil rises.
Bold. Bright. Flexible. Soft.
It shows up anyway.
Could that be the invitation for all of us?
To root into who we are.
To rise, even when the timing isn’t perfect.
To allow our softness to be part of our strength.
The daffodil reminds us that we don’t have to be hardened to be resilient.
We don’t need to wait for the external world to align before we honour our own growth.
And so, in the session…
We let ourselves root.
We let ourselves feel.
We let ourselves trust.
And for me, standing there, five years after a major life pivot; it felt like a full-circle moment.
Not the end of a journey, but the beginning of a new kind of strength.
And if you’re reading this…
Maybe you’re in the midst of your own version of uncertainty.
Maybe you’ve been carrying a lot for a long time, unsure of how, or whether, you’re “allowed” to soften into the strength within you.
Or perhaps you’ve already started your breathwork journey, and you’re looking for a guide to walk alongside you as you go deeper.
Wherever you find yourself, I want you to know:
You don’t have to do it all on your own.
Your breath is a powerful companion, not just for the big emotional waves, but for the daily rhythms of life. Whether you’re brand new to it or an experienced breather, I’d be honoured to hold space for your next step.
If you’re feeling curious or called, feel free to reach out. I’d love to support you.
Stay strong, take care
Carly x
