Nevertheless, I took my place on a mat and agreed to be open to anything. We began by simply becoming aware of our breath before Sheeley got us breathing in for a count of four and breathing out for six – one hand on the belly, the other on the heart. I never cry during yoga – I never feel anything that deep during exercise – but after about 10 minutes of this very gentle breathing practice, I was on the verge of tears.

Breathwork is often used to release stuck emotions and promote emotional regulation, and while there’s no concrete answer as to why we might feel more sensitive after a session, a lot of it has to do with the parasynthetic nervous system and the body’s ability to release stress.

Think about it: when you’re stressed, you tend to shallow breathe or hold your breath without even realising. You could be doing that all day or all month; a bit of bloating, fatigue or the need to sigh could be your only signs. Conversely, if you’re trying to calm someone who’s crying hysterically, you might ask them to do some deep breathing, focusing on lengthening the exhale. That release is a pain killer and slows the heart rate. After a traumatic period of pain and stress, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that breathwork would have a more profound impact.

And in my case, I think a lot of that emotion was even more surface-level: that workshop was the first time that I’d willingly touched my own stomach since leaving A&E. It didn’t matter that I was in a room full of strangers, sitting on the floor miles from home. I felt safer in my own body than I had before.

“I struggled with body image post-miscarriage – until I spent 24 hours at a breathwork retreat”