Blog 1: My Journey Back to Self – How Breathwork Found Me

If you'd told me 8 years ago that I'd be here—writing about my healing journey, breathwork, and finding a sense of belonging—I might not have believed you. For most of my life, I was the ultimate party girl. On the outside, I wore the mask of confidence, of fun, of having it all together. But inside, I was drowning in pain, abandonment, and grief I didn’t know how to face.

My father left when I was young, and those early feelings of being unwanted stayed with me for decades. I carried that wound through my relationships—especially my marriage. When my ex-husband walked out on me while I was four months pregnant, it shattered me. I was left holding not only the weight of my growing child but also the unbearable ache of being left behind, again.

For nearly twenty years, I self-abused with drugs and alcohol. I numbed myself to survive. But it was just that—survival. Not living, not feeling, not thriving. My second pregnancy was a traumatic one—I had placenta previa and haemorrhaged five times. I was in a deeply toxic relationship with a covert narcissist who stripped me of my worth, my confidence, and my self-respect. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t like the woman I had become.

But something happened that changed everything.

My son, at just 16 months old, caught meningococcal meningitis. For 48 hours, we didn’t know if he would survive. I remember looking at him, unconscious in that hospital bed, and thinking, "This can’t be it." And then, he opened his eyes and smiled at me.

That was the moment everything shifted.

I knew then I had to change. Not just for me, but for my children. I had to become the best version of myself for them—for my daughter, and for my son, who was left deaf after his illness. I threw myself into the journey of getting him hearing again—and in doing so, I began to listen to myself for the first time in years.

I left my hometown and the narc and moved 160 miles away to start a new life, protect my children, and start healing. I began studying with the Jay Shetty Certification School and became a qualified life coach. That process alone cracked me wide open. I started peeling back the layers of trauma, and the more I healed, the more I wanted to understand.

With over 30 years of experience as a holistic therapist, I’ve always known how powerful the body is. But it wasn’t until I trained with The Centre for Healing in Embodied Processing that I truly witnessed the body’s wisdom. In one session, I felt my younger self—so viscerally, so clearly—it was like time folded in on itself. It was trippy, yes, but beautiful. A homecoming.

The body holds so much. And what blew my mind was how much of it we carry silently—until we’re ready to listen.

Breathwork found me not long after that. I realised it was the missing link—the way to get out of the analytical mind and into the body, where true healing begins. Breath connects us to our quiet knowing, to our wholeness, to our soul. After years of dissociation, it brought me home.

I’ll be honest—my first breathwork training ended painfully. The school I trained with was eventually shut down when the founder became radically consumed by her personal beliefs. I left feeling confused, unsupported, and disillusioned. But I kept going. I knew the breath was too powerful to give up on.

Since then, I’ve led beautiful breathwork circles and one-to-one sessions, but I knew I needed more depth—for myself and for the people I hold space for. That’s why I joined this new school. I want to go deeper into Conscious Connected Breathing. I want to clear more of the sadness I still carry. I want to feel more. Heal more. Share more.

I once said to my best friend, "I wonder if I’ll ever feel again." Breathwork gave me the answer.

This journey isn’t about fixing ourselves. It’s about remembering who we truly are before the world tells us otherwise.

So if you're reading this and you've felt lost, numb, abandoned, or disconnected, I want you to know—you’re not alone. There’s a way back. And it begins with a breath.

With love, Jane x