How to process transitions: get high while sober.

breathe thru the uncertainty of change

On my thumb is a ring I bought a year and a half ago when I told myself I needed change but didn’t yet know how.

It’s in the shape of an ouroboros — a snake eating its tail, a symbol linked to rebirth, endings and new beginnings.

Change, transformation and transitions aren’t pretty, like the image of a creature eating itself. It’s also a tug of war, a push and pull and — with a blend of grit, flexibility and uncertainty — we either take a leap to one side or fall on our backs trying.

It’s been 6 months since I completed brain therapy called TMS. In this time, I’ve started a new relationship with a meaningful therapist, I’m in a constant rotation of jazzercise, yoga and meditation, and I’m on the heels of completing my nature therapy training.

It’s also been 6 months since experiencing a depressive episode, the longest stretch I’ve seen in years. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep fearing relapse, imagining it looms around the corner.

In this half-year I’ve been feeling great yet also unsettled. A few times I felt rattled to my core, when I was down and wondered if I would spiral into the depths again. But I didn’t, I was just a regular sad human who could bounce back.

That’s what I’ve been teetering with, the uncertainty of falling back into that place I fear I’ll get stuck in again and not know how to get out.

One thing is for sure — the only way out is through.

Earlier this week, I hosted a few close friends for a session of breathwork.

A practice that has been used across many lineages for thousands of years, you may have heard of breathwork through modern guys who have trademarked their techniques, like Wim Hof or Holotropic breathwork. With a trusted facilitator,¹ we were guided through intentional breathing patterns that change the balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the body, affecting brain blood flow. This type of work can induce altered states, like being on psychedelics, and it can bring about self-healing and emotional clarity.

I experienced this type of breathwork for the first time in April, shortly before I considered TMS as a treatment.

When I was in the midst of over-oxygenating my blood with two deep inhales and exhale out of my mouth, I felt this strong tingling sensation throughout my entire body.

It transported me back to being depressed. Prior to this session, for me, a tingling sensation while feeling numb was an indicator I was depressed and no longer wanted to be alive. It was a symptom I’d tell each therapist and psychiatrist, watching them write down the same notes and then prescribing a pill that eventually wouldn’t work.

But while in this breathwork, in the midst of these deep breaths, I was aware of the tingling, from my toes to my fingers and throughout my chest and face. I was pulsating. My entire being was vibrating. I felt good and euphoric.

And then it struck me. This tingling in this moment had new meaning.

This tingling no longer meant I was depressed, it meant it was proof I was alive. It had awakened me.

Clearly, I had to do this breathing thing again.

So this week, when I hosted another breathwork session, I felt the tingles once more. I was transported back into that time of realization. But then it showed up differently. This go around, I began crying with happiness. Glee.

Instead of knowing the tingling meant I was alive, it evolved into feeling excited to be alive. I was breathing with pure joy to just be here. I was basking in this gratitude, that I get to live my beautiful, complicated, crazy, wonderful life. Even with the possibility that relapse is possible because anything is possible.

Excuse my cliche but the tingling with aliveness was quite a lovely breath of fresh air.

It’s been a few days since my friends and I all purposefully breathed together to altered states. I saw transitions happening among everyone that came. Some felt it immediately; others, like me, will continue to see their experiences evolve over time.

Two friends announced what they underwent in that hour was “life changing.”

Yeah, me too.

My fear of relapse has been a push and pull. It’s been a process, one that I constantly nitpick in therapy and I meditate on each morning. I guess I would say the tug of war on my transformation to feeling better isn’t necessarily a win or lose, today I’m grateful to just breathe and play the game.

Peace out. Happy holidays, merry christmas and I’ll be back in 2026.

1. Brandt Miller, you’re the best!