How Somatic Breathwork Transformed My Grief
Grief has a way of seeping into every part of our lives, even when we think we’ve moved on. For years after my sister’s death, I lived in the fog of grief. Mentally, I was coping as best I could, but because I was active in sports, my body found a way to release some of the tension after every practice. Still, even two decades later, I realized that grief was still lurking in my body, even though I believed I was in a good place—or so I thought.
I remember attending my first grief and loss conference five years after Stacy died. I felt like a deer in headlights. For a while, I engaged in small talk with a few people and attended two workshops, but I didn’t feel present. I felt like I wasn’t fully in my body, like I was floating outside of myself.
Even now, two decades later, I can’t fully explain why I felt that way, but I just remember feeling off or maybe just disconnected. Sometimes we get so caught up trying to make sense of our grief that we forget—it isn’t always something that needs to be talked about.
Where Does Somatic Breathwork Play Into All of This?
As a social worker, I’ve spent years listening to others share their grief and trauma. While talking can be incredibly healing for many, I’ve also seen cases where it felt like talking wasn’t helpful. Some people seemed stuck, retelling the same story over and over, and for others, revisiting their pain only deepened their wounds. I wanted to find a skill that could help those who didn’t want to talk about their grief and trauma—or for whom talking wasn’t enough.
I first encountered somatic breathwork two decades after Stacy’s death, during a time when I was searching for something deeper—something to address the parts of me that felt stuck and unresolved. My first few sessions left me skeptical. I stayed in my head, wondering when the magic was going to happen. At the end of each session, others often shared profound breakthroughs, while I simply felt calm and grounded. I honestly wondered if I was missing out and when I would have a breakthrough.
At first, the practice felt mechanical, like I was doing it wrong. But as I learned to trust the process, focus on my breath, and allow it to deepen, something shifted. It wasn’t during my first, second, or even third session, but by my seventh session, my body finally began to soften. With each exhale, I felt a deeper connection to my body, allowing it to express the grief it had been holding onto for decades. Tears came—not from sadness, but from release. I wasn’t just remembering my grief. I was letting it move through me, out of the tight places where it had been lodged for so long.
A Lifeline to Healing
That session was transformative. I walked away feeling lighter—not because my grief was gone, but because I was no longer alone. Somatic breathwork gave me a way to connect with my body as an ally in healing and transforming my grief, rather than seeing it as a barrier to overcome.
This experience ultimately led me to become a certified somatic breathwork practitioner. I wanted to help others access the same kind of transformation and renewal I had found. For me, somatic breathwork isn’t just a practice—it’s a lifeline. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of pain, we have the power to find relief.
Reach Stephen Stott through his website: Somatic Breathwork for Grief, Trauma, and Emotional Pain (embracethedarkness.org)
Check out Stephen’s appearance on Open to Hope Radio.