Tinsel, Travel, and Totally Overworked Nervous Systems
A breathwork practice that keeps you grounded when December goes full circus.
Sometimes Thanksgiving doesn’t feel like a holiday so much as the unofficial starting gun for a month-long marathon of Doing All The Things. One minute you’re loading a tray of cookies into the oven, and the next you’re knee-deep in plastic and tissue paper, trying to remember which items you’re gifting and which ones you’re returning and whose gathering they’re supposed to be for.
The calendar gets chaotic, the group chats get louder, and your nervous system clops along like a loyal but downtrodden horse. We’re really doing this again, huh? Also, how is it already dark at 5pm? No wonder we’re tired.
In the seasonal frenzy, it’s easy to forget that your system doesn’t care what day it is, how many events you RSVP’d to, or whether your great aunt texted “Just a quick question…” at some ungodly hour. It still loves and needs regular touches of calm.
These don’t have to be huge practices or dramatic resets. Just short breaks that interrupt your spiraling thoughts and remind your body, Hey, we’re safe. We can breathe. We don’t have to white-knuckle it through the rest of the year.
Bonus: short breaks are extra delightful when life feels like a snow globe someone keeps aggressively shaking.
The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s pull us wildly out of routine. Work and school schedules change. Sleep and mealtimes shift. Your energy does that thing where it spikes (I can do ALL the things!) and then promptly crashes (I can do NONE OF the things!).
Even if you’re kicking ass at holding it together – which I imagine you are, because you’re highly capable and chronically responsible – your nervous system doesn’t love it and feels forced along for the ride.
We tend to treat wellness like something we’ll “get back to in January,” as though a fresh planner with a gym date in it is all it takes to restore more than a month’s worth of dysregulation. But right now is exactly when your body needs steadiness the most.
It doesn’t have to be major – quite the opposite. Think easy, tiny, doable. Something that fits into the commercial breaks of that schmaltzy Hallmark movie you’re pretending not to watch because “it’s just on for ambiance”.
Enter LSD.
Not Timothy Leary, holy-sh*t-am-I-dancing-with-a-pink-frog-right-now LSD.
I’m talking about LSD breathing: Light, Slow, Deep.
It sounds almost too simple… until you try it. And if it’s not that easy at first, know that it doesn’t take long to get easier and actually start feeling good.
Most people over-breathe without realizing it: big gulps of air, fast mouth breaths, chest and shoulders doing all the work like they’re auditioning to be the Big Bad Wolf in the local theatre production of the Three Little Pigs.
When you breathe this way all day, your nervous system gets the message that things aren’t going great. LSD breathing does the opposite. It communicates safety and calm, and is far more efficient for your body.
Here’s what you’re trying to do:
Light:
Breathe in less air than you want. Not in a stressful, “I’m suffocating” way, but a tolerable “I can handle this” way. Your inhale is quiet, soft, controlled. Imagine breathing over a mirror without fogging it up. That’s how light.
Slow:
Make your breath move at an unhurried pace that feels almost luxurious. Far slower than your usual. And make the exhale longer than the inhale. Four seconds in, six seconds out is a great place to start, but don’t get hung up on counting. Just take your time.
Deep:
Put your fingers against your bottom two ribs on each side. Breathe in just enough that those ribs move outward, and the back inward on the exhale. If you watch yourself in the mirror, you should see your hands move. If your shoulders are doing the heavy lifting, work on bringing that breath down lower.
Light. Slow. Deep. Three small shifts that create a surprisingly strong ripple through your nervous system. You’ll cycle oxygen and carbon dioxide more efficiently. You’ll think more clearly. And you’ll be actively maintaining “rest and digest” mode.
And like all the best breathwork techniques – you can do this anywhere.
At the stove while you wait for the potatoes to boil. In the car at a red light, white you work on loosening your grip on the shifter (my personal favorite). Even in line at the post office, where time loses all meaning.
Aim for a few minutes at a time. A 4-minute stretch is perfect. If you have more time, take a minute to return to normal breathing, and then do another 4-minute set.
Light, Slow, Deep breathing is tiny by design. You don’t need a yoga mat, a quiet room, or a perfectly curated morning routine. Your nervous system doesn’t require a ceremony. It just wants consistency.
A thread of steadiness woven through the chaos. Little anchors of calm. That’s it.
LSD breathing is a way to tell your body, “We’re okay. I’m here.” It’s a homecoming. A very portable one.
So as we officially enter the Season of Maximal EVERYTHING(!!!), here’s an idea for you.
Instead of waiting for the new year to feel better, slip in these tiny moments now. Let your breath be the quiet counterweight to the noise. Give your nervous system the steadiness it craves, one soft inhale and long exhale at a time.
Holiday chaos doesn’t get to boss your body around unless you let it.
Last Gasp:
“For those of you who cannot be with family this Thanksgiving, please resist the urge to brag.” — Andy Borowitz
Five Days of Deals is on through Friday.
Each day there’s a different deal designed to make nervous system care even simpler. Think never-before-seen offers, juicy bonuses, wallet-friendly prices. Check out all the ways to give your nervous system a little love this week.