The Breath We’ve Been Holding
This week, the world exhaled.
With the release of hostages from Gaza, a collective tension, held for nearly two years, was finally loosened. Families were reunited. Names once whispered in grief were spoken aloud in joy. Across borders and belief systems, something primal stirred: relief.
It doesn’t matter where you stand politically, this isn’t about sides. It’s about the human ache for resolution and return. The moment when suffering pauses, even briefly, and we remember what it feels like to breathe.
In recovery, we talk about surrender and about letting go. There’s no better way to get a handle on recurring stress or anxiety than to talk about the breath. The one we hold when we’re bracing for impact. The one we forget to release when the danger passes. The one that tightens our chest long after the trauma is over.
This week reminds us: we need rituals of release. Not just when the headlines shift, but in our daily lives.
What Does a Global Exhale Feel Like?
It feels like watching someone walk through a door you feared they’d never cross again. It feels like the silence after a noisy crowd, not due the quiet, but because of the relief.
It’s fragile. It’s fleeting. But it’s real.
Practicing the Breath in Recovery
We don’t need global events to remind us to breathe. We can build our own rituals of release:
- Name what you’ve been holding: Fear, grief, guilt, hope. Say it aloud. Write it down. Let it be real.
- Create space to exhale: Through movement, through art, through story. Let your body remember safety.
- Honor the return: Even if it’s partial. Even if it’s imperfect. Celebrate the moments when something comes back to you: your voice, your trust, your sense of self.
Recovery is so much more than abstinence. It’s about learning to breathe again, even when the world feels tight, and sometimes, it’s about breathing with the world: feeling the pulse of collective hope and letting it move through you. It’s about reclamation.
This week, we were given a powerful reminder that healing is possible. That return is possible. That breathing is possible.
Let’s not wait for the next headline to remember it.
