Breakingdown, Breakingthrough

- by Margaret Coyne -



9th Holotropic Breathwork Workshop - 12-11-'95

Arrived at the Centre 8.50am. where some people were already having their morning cuppas. I felt really good being among everybody.

We moved out into the session room at around 9.20am. where we sat in our circle and described how things went for us last night, our dreams, if any, and how we were feeling right now. After that, Lynn had each one of us pick an Angel Card which lay face down on a plate. This card contained a word, along with a small cartoon-like picture depicting the meaning, and whichever one we picked, it would be our word for the day. Mine was "Expectancy". The picture was of a little girl opening her present.

The morning session got underway at about 10.00am. All the "breathers" had very powerful experiences, with Liam's lasting well beyond everyone else's. We left at 12.55pm.

After I'd finished eating, I just relaxed in the stillness of my little room that I've come to feel so safe in.

By 1.20pm. everyone had returned and by 1.40pm. we were all ready to return outside for the afternoon session. A couple of minutes into the relaxation exercises, my watch alarm went off, and as it was in my bag, there was nothing I could do about it. It was very distracting while it lasted. Apart from that, everything went fine. I became so relaxed it felt as though my whole body was slowly dissolving into the soft foam-filled mattress. With my mind free from all worries, I was now prepared for my inward journey:-

"Somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes into the breathing I can feel a tightness across my upper tummy, which later moves down into my pelvic area.

That is quickly followed by the usual pins and needles in my hands and feet.

Already there are some people deep inside their pain, and in order to divert my attention away from their anguish. I create the mental image of a white square against a black background and focus upon that instead.

It is now around twenty minutes since I began my breathing and I've just become aware that my hands, now curled inwards, are slowly moving up towards my neck. The unearthly scream which follows, is as usual, straight up from deep within my guts. I seem to be lying in a cot somewhere hurting like hell, and although I cry out several times to my mother to help me, she doesn't come. The feeling of abandonment is overwhelming.

Moments later, I'm a young child, crouching in the corner of the family living room, while my father, who's towering over me, repeatedly beats me with his leather strap on the parts of my body most easily reached. I'm begging him to stop and calling my mother to come and save me. My agony seems to last forever. I've never been able to express my hatred for what he's done to me, but now I find the courage to verbally fight him off. I scream "fuck you, I hate you" as loud as I can, over and over, until there is not an ounce of strength left in me. My sobs, now weakened by exhaustion, are the tears I could not shed back then, so instead I held them in along with all the terrible unexpressed anger and humiliation. Eventually I drift off for a few moments. Liam reminds me to breathe.

Once more I'm struggling to be born, only this time, I have an intense detennination to get out, something which was never present during previous attempts. My body is twisting and turning, and as it does so, I'm screaming at my mother "let me out, let me out".

Now I have an image of a greyish-black tunnel with a tiny white foetus at the entrance waiting to be born.

Within a split second, I realise that this creature is actually me, and immediately I'm filled with an incredible energy, knowing that this must be my final strive for freedom. It feels like my mother's vagina is opening up against the pressure of my head, so I furiously propel myself through the tight passage, screaming encouragement at her as I go, "that's it, I'm just there" and "Oh God, please let me out". Drenched in sweat, I continue to push through until finally I emerge, weak from the great effort, but wholly ecstatic at having completed my agonising journey.

I am now so bewildered by my experience, that I begin to cry exactly as all new-born babies do. The high-pitched yells communicate my utter terror and desperate need to be comforted. While my out-stretched fingers are clawing at my face and neck, I'm descending still deeper into my distress, which eventually sickens me and I begin the awful coughing and gagging. After some time I rest for a while, until a soulful piece of music takes me right back into my despair and I start the painful sobbing all over again, this time as an adult. The feelings of abandonment during my infancy, plus the physical and verbal abuse later on are so strong, that they now drive me into a deep depressive state, from which seems the only escape is death itself.

As my distress subsides, I am aware of somebody covering me with my blanket under which I take refuge from the pain. Lynn lies beside me and I describe my eventful journey as best I can, given that I'm still a bit tearful. She is very consoling and suggests I rest for awhile as I've just had a pretty rough time. I fall into a deep sleep and wake up ages later to find that everyone else has already gone inside, except Liam and Lynn. They are very patient and understanding. Nevertheless, I'm still embarrassed for delaying them so much. I finally leave at 5.10pm".

Back in the little room I was full of energy and very talkative. In fact I was on a high. We were all having a really good time, and at one point I even suggested we all meet for a drink close to Christmas.

The response was lukewarm. Having finished my tea and rice cakes, I settled down to draw my Mandala. This one portrayed the image of the dark tunnel, complete with curled up foetus at the entrance, as I felt this described the most poignant moment in the session.

At around 6.00pm. we moved back out to the session room where we talked a lot about our experiences, then picked yet another card from the plate. This time mine was "Enthusiasm", and the little picture was of people waving flags. This gathering lasted about three quarters of an hour as most of us went on to describe our painful journeys in lengthy detail. By the end of it all, I felt there was a great sense of bonding that can only occur between people who've shared their most intimate sufferings with each other. After all the kissing and hugging was over, we said our farewells and began to head off home.

It was good to see my husband and the boys. Following some left- over dinner and a cup of Fennel tea, I watched television for a while then talked a little about the most extraordinary day I'd just had.


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