From anxiety to agency: how breathwork changed my mornings

I began April with a spreadsheet and a knot in my stomach. My therapist suggested experimenting with breathwork each morning for four weeks. I agreed on two conditions: keep the protocol simple and measure outcomes to satisfy my inner data nerd.

The routine was ten minutes of box breathing (inhale 4, hold 4, exhale 4, hold 4) followed by five minutes of extended exhale (inhale 4, exhale 6–8). I recorded pre-practice anxiety on a 1–10 scale, post-practice anxiety, and a few notes about the day.

Week one was clumsy but promising. Average pre-practice score: 6.9. Post-practice: 4.8. The first morning I felt dizzy; by day three my body anticipated the slower rhythm. Emails that usually spiked my pulse landed softer. I noticed I drank less coffee because I didn’t crave the jolt.

Week two improved: 6.6 down to 3.9 on average. The extended exhale seemed key; it toned the parasympathetic nerve like a friendly weight training session for calm. I made a rule not to open work apps until the five minutes ended. Productivity didn’t suffer; it improved because I wasn’t doom-scrolling a stress cocktail before breakfast.

Week three delivered the breakthrough. A conflict with a colleague would normally spiral into rumination. Instead, I breathed before replying, wrote a draft, stepped away, and sent a cleaner version. The knot in my stomach eased by noon. The spreadsheet reflected it: 6.4 down to 3.2.

The last week plateaued: 6.2 to 3.5. The graph looked less dramatic, but mornings felt sturdier. The breath didn’t erase stressors; it changed my posture toward them—from braced to available. The side benefits were unexpected: better digestion, fewer afternoon crashes, a new appetite for evening walks.

What did I learn? First, the breath is a steering wheel within reach. Second, consistency beats intensity. Third, the metrics mattered less than the lived experience: more deliberate mornings produced kinder days. I kept the practice beyond the experiment, not to chase perfect scores, but because agency tastes better than adrenaline.