Don't just do something. Breathe.

Recently, I learned how to breathe all over again. I learned how to breathe in a way that keeps my mind in the present moment. I'm learning how to live in such a way that I no longer feel like my insides are tied up in knots. I never knew there was a different way to breathe, to live. No one ever told me. Not my parents, my teachers, my friends, no one.

But if you've ever read anything about someone who has recently discovered mindfulness, you're likely familiar with these perspectives.

For years I was so proud of how I could go from meeting to meeting and day to day without stopping to address the hardened pieces of myself.

I wore that ability like a badge of honor—being the one who could push through anything. Deadlines, stress, family needs, business demands. I thought endurance was strength. I thought being busy meant I mattered.

But slowly, and then all at once, it caught up with me. The sleepless nights, the shallow breathing, the sense that life was happening in fast-forward and I couldn’t find the remote to pause it. I wasn’t living; I was managing. Managing stress, managing expectations, managing to hold it all together by sheer willpower.

Then one day, I caught myself holding my breath in the middle of an ordinary conversation. It wasn’t even stressful. Just… talking. But my chest was tight, my shoulders were in my ears, and I realized — I wasn’t breathing.

Not really.

That moment cracked something open.

It wasn’t some grand epiphany; it was quiet. Unassuming. But it was the first time I wondered, What else have I been missing?

So, I started small. One deep breath. Then another. Not the kind of breath you take before walking into a meeting or steeling yourself for bad news. A real breath. One that filled my lungs and softened my body.

But here’s the thing no one tells you: breathing is easy; being present while you breathe is not. My body would breathe, but my mind would be three conversations ahead or stuck reliving something from years ago. I could be sitting in stillness and still feel completely tangled up inside.

It’s a skill. Staying with your breath, anchoring yourself to this exact moment, is something you have to practice. Over and over. And it’s frustrating at first. Your mind will wander—because that’s what minds do. But the practice is to notice when it drifts and gently bring it back. No judgment. Just return.

And you know what? Nothing magical happened. Bills still needed paying. Emails still flooded in. People still needed me. But slowly, I started to feel space where there had only been pressure. Like I wasn’t being crushed by the weight of it all.

And over time—as I kept practicing—something shifted.

Not overnight, and not dramatically. But over time, my mind—once a constant storm—began to settle. My reactions softened. My sense of self, of existence, started to feel… different. Lighter and more open.

I’m not here to sell you some miracle. Breathing didn’t fix my life. But it gave me something that is wholly mine. A gift to myself. A small compassionate space to just be. And for me, most times, that’s enough.

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Lance and his wife, Kristin Vaughn, PhD own the Austin Mindfulness Center in Austin, Texas. If you're a Texas resident and looking for counseling services, we welcome you to visit our website and consider getting started with therapy today. Your mental health is the most valuable investment you’ll ever make.