Rebirthing Story

I wrote this true story on October 10, 2009:

So last weekend I tried "rebirthing breathwork." I didn't really know what to expect; I just sort of fell into a bargain with my friend Deanna* who was teaching a workshop, including a group session. And now I know there is some disagreement about the appropriateness of a group breathwork session among the rebirthing gurus. At least so says Jason, who has read of such things. I just started the book Rebirthing in the New Age, by Leonard Orr and Sondra Ray, which shows a handful of said gurus nude in a hot tub on the cover. Sweet.

Jason has met Leonard Orr, and has had some training and experience with rebirthing. It's a method of breathing that's supposed to regress people to the birth event to release negative emotions tied to birth trauma. This usually happens over multiple sessions, culminating in a "breathing release," when the person is fully rid of the trauma. I was lucky J had told me about some of the possible symptoms. Mostly, I didn't know what to expect, and it was a little scary. Partly, that was the group aspect, and social fears. After all, I'd just met these people that morning.

First, I didn't feel like I fully understood the instructions. We had just spent the day trying to pinpoint the negative beliefs and patterns of self-sabotage that hold us back from reaching our full potential. I was mentally and emotionally tuckered out. I asked for a repetition of the instructions, only to receive a new set of instructions. So, ok. It must just be one of those let-go-and-trust things. Still, I had a fear of "messing up." The 10 of us were lying around the living room on yoga mats, set to breathe deeply yet quickly and without pausing into our upper chests for just over an hour. Sounds crazy. No way. A friend back on the West Coast who works at a hospital as a breathing consultant said this is a form of hyperventilation, basically hogwash.

I don't know what to think. How is breathing into the upper chest considered "deep" breathing? This seems counter-intuitive. My friend's apprentice tells me I need to breathe more deeply, more quickly. It feels really, really weird. I try. There is no way I can do this for an hour. Ok, maybe I can fake it. I can get through this, and nothing will happen, no big deal. No big transformative event, but no freak out. I will just fake it. Fine.

My hands are starting to tingle. My knees. My head feels like it's being squeezed. More breathing. They said no matter what happens, the key is to keep breathing through it. We will all end up in a good place. I have heard that a common thing is for the hands to curl up and get paralyzed. This seems to be happening to me. My hands are under a blanket, so it's not too embarrassing. Wow is my head being squeezed. Keep breathing.

Ok, I definitely need help with the hand thing. This hurts. I ask the apprentice guy to help me. He comes and takes off the blanket. "Yeah, I can see how that would hurt," he says. He tells me keep breathing, try to let it come through. He massages my hands. His warmth feels good. I decide it's ok to move, stretch my arms out over my head, focus on opening my hands. They are clenched so tight. I try to stretch them out. I wrap them around my head to try to open them. It hurts. It's scary.

There is a vision of being in the womb, of time to come out. The pressure on my head tells me I am coming out. Where is my mom? Why isn't she helping me? I think she's afraid. She's not in charge of this. Maybe someone else is, but I don't know who. I am completely alone. I start to sob, but it stops the breath, so I keep fighting to keep breathing. I remember my parents' bedroom in the house I grew up in. I remember my mom's scar after her hysterectomy. Staples across her belly. She told me why, but it didn't make sense. I think I was four or five.

There is deep anger, sadness, grief. It's not all mine. It's my mom's. It's my grandma's. I feel the emotion coming through my matrilineal line. I cry some more. Tears roll down into my ears. I turn over onto my stomach and stretch out to let it come through me. I want to help heal this.

After a while it gets softer. It's been over an hour. It doesn't seem like that long. My hands are better. The breathing is easier. I ask if I can go to the bathroom. Everything tingles, and my hearing is different. It's like a wave of sound crashing behind my eardrums. I am hyper aware. I feel great, so clean and clear. It's like having done a bunch of good exercise. I come back and curl up under the blanket, cozy. Something happened. Others in the room are still breathing heavily. Their breath sounds like music. I want to laugh.

I'm in an altered state for the rest of the evening. I come home and take a hot bath by candle light. I'm famished. Food tastes amazing.

I guess this is what was needed. I promised I would try again to reach the PSM practitioner in Minnesota. I am ready to do more plant studies, too. Things are shifting.

Here we go.

*Deanna Reiter

http://www.dayawati.com