Considering Breathwork? Read This.

I took my first breathwork class in Thailand. I was in Pai, and a friend had recommended 24/7 Breathwork. I went in expecting something chill and relaxing—like yoga with an emphasis on deep breathing. It was anything but.

Within minutes, I was having a full-on out-of-body experience. We were led through intense breathing exercises set to ceremonial music. I thought the session lasted about 20 minutes, but when I sat up, I realized it had been a solid hour and a half. My body wasn’t handling it gracefully. My hands clenched into full crab claws, my lips pursed so tightly, I had butthole lips for a full hour. Tetany, apparently.

At one point, we were asked to envision our dream home. In my mind’s eye, flashes of a house appeared—a home I found months later in Bali (exactly like what I saw during the session). I left the class feeling on cloud nine. I was buzzing—alive, energized, and totally refreshed.

I became a bit of a breathwork junkie after that, attending several sessions in the following months. One particularly notable experience happened at a festival in Bali. The session was an hour long and led by an annoyingly handsome facilitator. Within minutes, the crab claws and butthole lips made their inevitable return. Perfect timing. Even better, the facilitator hovered over me, whispering encouraging words to help me "release," I think is the word he used. Fantastic.

The session ended abruptly, and I stumbled out of the tent feeling extremely disoriented. I made a beeline for the water station, poured myself a cup, and noticed the facilitator standing nearby. Though still partially paralyzed from the session, I decided to strike up a conversation.

As I stood to face him and thank him for the session, my stiff, uncooperative hands betrayed me. They clamped down on the cup, crushing it completely and sending water spilling all over me and the floor.

10/10 experience. Highly recommend.