Typically, I breathe about once per hour. I’m only partly kidding. I breathe the way a whale does, except whales are supposed to breathe that infrequently.
Since childhood, I’ve known that I’m a “bad” breather. I was diagnosed with asthma at an early age, given an inhaler, and told that I had a problem.
Within a few years, still at an early age, I had self-diagnosed myself with “hysterical asthma”. It was clear to me that my problem was controllable, without medicine or kid-gloves.
How did I know? Well, for me it was clear because:
- The benefits of my inhaler only lasted about five minutes.
- A one-hour yoga session yielded benefits that lasted many hours.
- I typically “clench” a lot and then gasp for air.
- When I think about it, I breathe much better.
- And, my Pilates instructor is always telling me, “There needs to be more breathing.” Her mentor is always telling me similar things.
And when she says that, I rise, whale-like, and take a massive gulp of air, then go back to ignoring my lungs.
Also, I am not breathing right now. I am writing, which takes precedence.