“I’m Not Sure I Want to Go There”

What are we really avoiding?

When I first started considering how I integrate breathwork into my professional offering and world - into coaching, into corporate spaces - I’ll be honest: I hesitated.

I knew how powerful it was. But I also knew the potential of what it unlocks.

Emotion. Vulnerability. Memory. Tears. Trembling. Letting go.

In other words, everything we’re taught to avoid - especially in the corporate fabric surroundingt he world of work.

And yet, that’s exactly why we need it.

What people say (and what they really mean)

Over the past year, I’ve heard so many versions of the same hesitation:

• “I’m fine, I don’t think I need that.”

• “That sounds intense… I’m not sure I want to go there.”

• “I think I’d lose control. I’m afraid I won’t come back the same.”

• “Sounds great for others, but I’m not ready.”

Instead, we reach for Netflix, pour a glass of wine, open our laptops -  anything to keep from feeling what’s underneath. These habits seem harmless, but over time, they keep us just far enough from ourselves.

On the surface, these sound reasonable. Polite even.

But beneath them, I hear the deeper message:

“I’ve learned to survive by staying in control. Please don’t take that from me.”

The day the room went silent

At a recent corporate breathwork session I led, a woman began crying before we’d even started. Her body spoke before her mind could make sense of it.

Immediately, she apologised. That moment stayed with me.

Not because she cried,  that’s welcome. But because of how quickly the shame arrived.

Even in a room designed for emotional safety, the rest of the group went still. Subdued. Not hostile, just cautious. No one else cried. The room stayed quiet, even during deep breathwork. And it wasn’t because they weren’t feeling anything. In fact it was quite the opposite, but there was a really subtle suppression of expression.

It was because even in altered states, the part of them conditioned to stay composed was still in charge.

Breathwork is not about emotional chaos

Let me be clear: breathwork isn’t about falling apart.

It’s not about losing control or unleashing dramatic catharsis.

It’s about meeting yourself. Not the polished version of you. Not the one who says, “I’m fine.”

The one underneath. The one who’s tired. Who’s holding everything together. Who’s been silently asking for space.

And here’s the thing most people don’t realise:

Crying isn’t weakness. It’s regulation.

Sound isn’t disruption. It’s release.

Emotion isn’t failure. It’s feedback.

We just live in a world that doesn’t know what to do with it.

Resistance and surrender

My teacher Christian R Minson talks about the spectrum of breathwork as the dance between resistance and surrender.

Most of us live toward the resistance end. We say we want change - but only if it’s tidy. Predictable. Quiet.

But breathwork doesn’t ask you to dive into the deep end.

It just asks you to notice where you grip.

Where you hold.

Where you don’t trust yourself to feel.

And then, to let the breath loosen it. Slowly. Kindly. Honestly.

A mirror we often avoid

Here’s the paradox I see time and time again:

The people most resistant to breathwork are often the ones who need it most.

The ones who say “I don’t need it, I’m fine,” are often overextended, overfunctioning, and exhausted underneath.

The ones who fear “going there” have usually learned to survive by staying out of their body, or by rationalising their way around their pain.

And I say that with love. Because I’ve been that person too.

When emotion is suppressed or avoided, the body doesn’t forget;  it stores the burden in muscles, breath, even the immune system.

As Bessel van der Kolk writes, “Trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain and body.”

An invitation - not a confrontation

If you’ve ever said “I’m not sure I want to go there,” I want you to know:

That’s okay. That’s welcome here.

But I also want to ask gently - what’s the cost of not going there?

What happens when you keep suppressing what your body is trying to process?

What are you carrying - in your breath, in your gut, in your shoulders - that no one sees?

And what might become possible if you met it with breath?

Not to fix. Not to force.

Just to feel. Just to release. Just to be.

To find out more about breathwork in group sessions or 1:1 check my website www.breathwithsamreen.com

Follow my Instagram @breathe_with_samreen