14. Benefits of Breathing

When I began to realize last summer that I had some things to learn in the breathing department, our oldest son, Ben, shared a story with me. What he said made me think that poor breathing habits may be one of the unfortunate things he has inherited from me! 

He told of how when he began his first contract as a pianist/keyboardist with Celebrity Cruises, there was a piece where the final movement was a real challenge for him and he was pretty nervous about it. The first time he performed it, he got to the end and suddenly found he was on the verge of blacking out and keeling over. He realized then that he’d held his breath for about the last 44 bars of the piece. 

If a singer or a wind instrumentalist is nervous, he or she is not going to have this problem: they are forced, by the very nature of their instrument, to breathe properly. Not so with a pianist, and not so with many of us in our current culture. If we are doing heavy physical work (and very few of us do anymore), we breathe reasonably well. Our body absolutely demands it. But if we are working at a desk, or anything else where physical exertion is limited, we can fall into bad habits like shallow breathing and mouth-breathing. These put our body into stress mode, whether or not there is a nasty boss hanging over our shoulder or a bad-tempered customer facing off with us.

Last article, I wrote about how deep breathing can turn off over-active adrenal glands and terminate an anxiety attack mid-way. What is it about breathing deeply that is so powerful? The first thing it does, obviously, is correct your oxygen deficiency so that your adrenals understand that there really isn’t a crisis. But it does much more than that. It also releases feel-good endorphins into the system; relaxes sore, tense muscles; improves circulation; and helps clear the lymph system, improving immunity. 

Dedicated breathing exercise helps to balance neurotransmitters. These are the various chemicals that carry messages among our ten billion brain cells. What’s really interesting is that the emotions we experience are determined by what kind of transmitter carries the thought. So one can see it’s pretty important to give these little guys every opportunity to keep their balance. 

According to www.breathing.com/tests.htm, after our mid-twenties most of us start losing lung capacity, upwards of 10% each decade. Breathing exercises will maintain or improve breathing function along with your overall well-being. The same site gives this sobering information:

The respiratory system should be responsible for eliminating 70% of your metabolic waste. The remainder should be eliminated through defecation 3%, urination 8%, and perspiration 19%. So, if you think that going to the bathroom every day is important, or that working up a good sweat now and then is healthy, think again about the value of full, free, optimal breathing!” 

Inhaling through the nostrils allows the proper mixing of the air with an amazing gas produced in the nasal sinuses, called nitric oxide (NO). It is a potent vasodilator (blood vessel dilator) and a natural bronchodilator (Hello, asthma sufferers!). It effects maximum oxygenation in the lungs and hence in every cell of the body. (Bear in mind that cancer is anaerobic; that is, it can only grow in the absence of oxygen.) Mouth-breathing lacks these qualities and produces a sort of continual tension that is very stressful and depleting to the body. 

Want to increase your nitric oxide production? Hum a little tune! Seriously, researchers in Sweden had a hypothesis that “the oscillating airflow produced by humming would speed up the exchange of air between the sinuses and the nasal cavity and increase nasal nitric oxide output.” They found that “humming increased the nitric oxide levels by 15-fold compared with quiet exhalation.” (http://www.healingnaturallybybee.com/articles/breath2.php) Humming can also greatly relieve sinus problems, and it doesn’t cost a cent! 

I gave these elementary directions for deep breathing in the last article: 

Inhale through the nostrils, counting to 4; hold for 4; exhale through pursed lips for 6 (the back-pressure allows more oxygen to be absorbed in the lungs). Pause if you don’t need a breath right away. Repeat 20 times; work up to 4 times daily. 

Then I added a parenthetical note, saying that it is better to exhale through the nose. But it’s difficult to control exhalation through the nose, especially when you’re just learning. Humming, along with the benefits cited above, controls the exhale and give your lungs more time to absorb what you’ve inhaled. It’s another simple and costless way to increase the value of the whole exercise.

Last summer Ben was given the opportunity to play in the musical Wicked at the Jubilee Auditorium in Edmonton, challenging him to a whole new level. The gig coincided with a personal health crisis, and he’d been researching some of his issues, including the whole breathing thing. As a result, he was very deliberate about maintaining his breathing throughout. He was able to perform without anxiety or excess adrenaline—and felt fine at the end.

13. Just Breathe

One day back in the spring when I was battling with general anxiety, a couple of months before my adrenals pooped out, I remember saying to my husband, “I need to put on some classical music a couple of times a day, lie down on the floor, and do some deep breathing.” 

I really believed that this would help me, but I didn’t do it—not even once. So it seemed ironic that, once I went to see a naturopath, he told me that one of the important things in the recovery of my adrenals was going to be the practice of deep breathing. “Take a few minutes, 3 or 4 times a day,” he said, “and do 15 or 20 rounds.” 

Too bad I hadn’t taken my own advice a few months earlier; I might have avoided this burnout. 

The naturopath continued: “It will seem kind of useless, like it’s not really going to make any difference, but it’s one of the most powerful things you can do for yourself.” 

The more I will practice this, the more effective it becomes, I’m told, and it will teach my body to breathe healthily, unconsciously. I’ve come to realize that when any kind of tension, fear, or excitement comes upon me, my tendency is to revert to shallow breathing—or even hold my breath. I never knew this before. 

The naturopath explained that when my breathing gets shallow, my oxygen level drops and my adrenal glands receive a message that there is a crisis and so they kick into action. Deep breathing reverses that message. How empowering, to know that I can actually take physical control over a response in my body (the release of adrenaline and cortisol and the ensuing anxiety). I always thought it was completely involuntary and beyond my reach. 

Now when I’m at the computer and I get too intense, either because of a deadline or because of the excitement and focus of what I’m doing, and then anxiety starts to kick in—or when I’m getting ready to go somewhere and I’m running late (as I nearly always am) and I suddenly realize that my breathing is shallow, the adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and my head feels light—I make myself start breathing deeply. 

Inhale through the nostrils while counting to 4; hold for 4; exhale through pursed lips for 6; pause if I don’t need a breath right away. And it is the most marvellous thing: the anxiety immediately begins to abate. [I have since discovered that it is best to exhale through the nose. More about that in the next couple of articles.]

In September, I began the work of abridging my book Made in Heaven, Fleshed Out on Earth. After working with this book for 8 years, I thought I knew it well. But now I was surprised by all the references to the state of my breathing in this chronicle—I had never noticed before what a recurring theme it has been with me. Over and over I came across phrases like the following: 

“Hi,” I said, trying to breathe normally….

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly….

His words made my heart pound in my chest so that I could hardly breathe…. 

I made myself breathe, slowly and evenly….

“Well, Nancy,” it began, and my breath caught in my throat ....

I had run upstairs to check the mail slot, holding my breath ....

“I should just hold my breath and not even think until you show up….”

Then suddenly, such a rush of excitement and anticipation, I could hardly breathe….

“Nancy …” he said, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe ....

 

So this underscored for me that normal breathing has been a challenge most of my life and that I have a need to establish healthier habits. Although I’ve been faithful since my adrenal crash to do my “crisis management” breathing exercises, I have been unable to discipline myself to establish “preventative maintenance”—the daily routine that the naturopathic doctor recommended. 

A couple of weeks ago I had a chat with a friend who has the same kind of difficulties and wants to try this too. So we hit on the idea of texting one another to help us keep on track. Each time one of us “breathes,” we text the other, who then has the obligation to fit in a session ASAP. It’s working well for us. We’re “breathing” up to 4 times a day.

12. Mental Health at Christmastime

One evening last week I was driving to Edmonton to meet two of my kids at the Winspear to hear Michael W. Smith in concert with the Edmonton Symphony. (Wow!) As I drove, I thought of a poem I wrote during the Christmas season 17 years ago. I then amused myself during the remainder of the drive by reciting it from memory. 

I thought of the stressed-out mom who had written that piece and of how far she has come since then. But I was quick to acknowledge, too, that I still have some things to learn about handling stress. I thought it would be good to share this poem, to help us all keep perspective during this most special time of year. 

The Week Before Christmas 

’Twas a week before Christmas when I awoke in my bed 

Not with joy and good will but apprehension and dread 

Here it was the seventeenth of the month of December 

Still, on went renovations that began in September 

 

This neat little house that the Lord led us to 

Was subjecting us all to a total re-do 

All that morning I had planned to be painting 

Though I felt more like sleeping—maybe even like fainting 

 

But it had to be done; that much was clear 

In hopes that the carpet-man soon would be here 

I wearily crawled out to the big kitchen table 

Clutching my trusty, worn Amplified Bible 

 

“Lord, if I ever needed You, I need You now 

I’ve just got to get through this day somehow 

And by the way, Lord, if I’m doing too much 

I’d drop it all now: just convict me of such” 

 

Then I read a few verses and I went on my way

To get a good start on this formidable day 

Well, I won’t explain how: it’d take too much time 

And too many words in need of a rhyme 

But just ten minutes later, as neat as you please 

The Lord brought me down, and hard, to my knees 

 

“Forget the painting for now!”—oh, how my heart strings tugged— 

“And wait till the New Year to put in the rug!” 

So I let it all go, and I wept as I knelt 

With thanks for His grace and the relief I now felt 

 

Then I gathered my wits with no further delay 

With a fresh new perspective to tackle the day 

And a jolly good thing: there was much to be done 

Beginning . . . with the kids' dress rehearsal at one! 

 

Before then, there were still three costumes to hem 

A parrot head-piece to feather, attach Velcro, and then 

I suddenly remembered with a sigh and a frown 

Each of the wise men still needed a crown 

 

Did the morning have wings? How quickly it flew! 

How could I have painted? There was so much to do! 

Twelve-thirty, as kids gobbled hot soup down 

From poster-board I hastily cut each crown 

 

Then to give those crowns an appearance more royal 

Out came the good old aluminum foil 

With eyes on the clock, all the kids stood ’round 

My hands shook; my heart was beginning to pound 

 

I couldn’t believe how long this was taking 

Stress level at max; grey hairs in the making 

It was one when Greg chased them all out the door 

And I was left wondering was the rush was all for 

 

I wanted to arrive at Christmas rejoicing 

Not exhausted, with cynical sentiments voicing 

To enter His rest, from my labours to cease 

To celebrate the advent of the Prince of Peace 

 

So I built that day in my heart an altar 

And I pledged by His grace my resolve would not falter 

This week, I would follow His agenda, not mine 

So to be full of peace this Christmastime

11: Chemicals by Candlelight

Earlier this fall, I saw a sign outside a home décor store in Wetaskiwin, advertising their “BLOW-OUT SALE on CANDLES.” (I wondered if they meant to be funny; I thought it was hilarious.) We’re into that time of year when we love the warm glow of candles on a long, dark evening. They are a favourite way to lend hospitality or romance to a setting. 

However, there are some health issues to consider when buying candles, things of which I was not aware until recently. A large percentage of the candles available today are made of paraffin, which is a waste product left over from the oil-refining process. When these candles burn, they release formaldehyde, benzene, and up to a total of eleven different carcinogenic chemicals. I heard it said that you might as well have a small diesel engine running in your living room.

Softer waxes and artificially scented waxes give off even more greasy, black soot; likewise petroleum-based gel candles. More harmful yet is the vapour released from wicks that contain lead. Metal in the wick helps it stand upright and burn more evenly and slowly. But lead is one of the more toxic heavy metals. Airborne as the candle burns, and inhaled and accumulated over time, it can cause behavioural changes and learning and memory problems. 

This is particularly dangerous for young children and fetuses in utero. “Burning leaded candles in a home once a week can release enough lead into the indoor environment that a child’s lead levels could exceed federal health standards” (www.bchydro.com/guides). Be especially wary of tea lights, pillar candles, those that puddle greatly, and any made in China. 

Lead wicks were banned in the US in 2003 but as yet are still not restricted in Canada. Sometimes tin and zinc are used in wicks, which are not considered to be as harmful (though I prefer to know there’s nothing but pure cotton wicking up the molten wax). You can determine for yourself if a candle contains lead: shred the wick a little, and if you find a metallic centre, rub it on paper. A grey mark indicates lead. Get rid of the candle. 

But you don’t have to deprive yourself of candlelight altogether—just look for healthier alternatives. Soy candles are slow-burning, which makes them more economical in the long run. (Apparently many of the candles sold at IKEA are made from soy and all of them all are lead-free). No toxic fumes, and they burn at a cooler temperature, which makes them safer. 

Look for soy candles that are scented with natural fragrance oils. These can actually contribute to health and a sense of well-being, unlike chemical fragrances. And from what I can find, it seems that only carbon dioxide and water vapour are produced in the burning of a vegetable oil candle like soy, much like the breath expelled from the human body. 

The healthiest option of all, and certainly the most esthetically pleasing, is beeswax. It is expensive up front, but because it is slow-burning, the dollars go further. It is estimated that burning a beeswax candle costs between 10 and 30 cents an hour. That’s pretty economical for these beautiful golden, naturally honey-scented candles. They have the longest and cleanest burn of any candle.

Not only do they not emit toxic smoke, they are actually reputed to remove toxins from the air as they burn. The site at www.care2.com told me: “But there is much more benefit to beeswax candles compared to paraffin candles that are made from polluted petroleum sludge, or even vegetable-based candles, that are a big improvement over paraffin: When beeswax candles burn, they clean the air like a great, natural, air purifier….” 

And www.wannabeeonline.com adds the following: “There’s a whole lot of information out there about negative ions. The theory is that beeswax, being nature’s wax, emits wonderful air-cleaning, depression-reducing ions that combat things like dust, odours, mold and even viruses while elevating the mood.” 

Any candle will smoke and produce more soot if it is placed in a drafty place or if the wick is too long. Always trim the wick to a quarter inch in length before lighting, and situate the candle where the flame burns straight up and steady. Most important of all, never leave a burning candle unattended. Even a lovely, clean-burning beeswax candle can set a house ablaze and create a toxic inferno that devastates a family materially and emotionally. Have a safe and happy holiday season!

10. Adrenals Amok

When I first wrote about “Anxiety and the Iodine Intervention” (first article), I did not mean to imply that this was the one and only breakthrough I’ve ever had with anxiety over the years, neither did I presume that it was to be the last battle on this front. What caught me by surprise, though, was the tremendous irony of having an unbearable onslaught of this infirmity in the weeks immediately after writing that article. It often happens that when we testify of help and healing, we will be sorely tested again. Having “bragged” about my new mental health (thanks to iodine) in my first newspaper article, it suddenly seemed to crumble. Sitting at my computer, writing, I became so chronically wrought up that I couldn’t handle it. 

I asked God what the problem was; what my body was lacking, and this is what I heard: You know enough about nutrition now, as far as how it relates to anxiety. You need to learn how to live in a relaxed state. 

This sounded good to me, but I had no idea how to proceed. I couldn’t relax, especially once I started working at anything. I continued on my wrought-up way, sitting at my desk like a car in neutral with its accelerator stuck to the floor. Adrenaline and cortisol coursed uncontrollably through my veins. It scared me; I knew it was wreaking havoc on my body, but I couldn’t stop it. 

A month or two later I absolutely crashed. My husband and I had headed out for a walk early one lovely Sunday morning, and I just couldn’t do it. I was so exhausted I could hardly put one foot in front of the other, never mind pull off a brisk walk. And the five-pound weights that I frequently carry to work out my upper body while I walk—well, they hung there in my hands, dangling at the end of my arms while I surveyed them as though they were some foreign and impossible challenge. They might as well have been 30 pounds apiece. Within a few days, I’d found an opening with a naturopath. He diagnosed what I’d guessed: my adrenal glands were exhausted.

 This is not a problem that is generally recognized in mainstream medicine. Unless you get to the point where you are producing no cortisol at all (Addison’s disease), your adrenals are not considered to be in trouble. I learned from the naturopath some of the things that cause my adrenaline and cortisol levels to shoot up: the adrenals are stimulated by different kinds of bodily and emotional stressors. Because my anxiety this time was not connected to any emotional issue or concern, I will look here at only bodily stressors: 

If I don’t breathe properly, if I don’t eat right or on time, if I am sleep deprived, my adrenals are going to try to compensate. If in addition to being sleep deprived, hungry, and/or oxygen deprived, I continue to work hard mentally or physically, these factors tax the adrenal glands all the more. (If I also were to ingest caffeine, nicotine, and/or refined sugars—and thank God, I do not!—I would be that much worse off.) 

Having the naturopath explain these factors to me made me realize that I have some very unhealthy habits. Hypoglycaemic, yet failing most of the time to eat when I should, I get involved with my work at the computer and hours slip by unnoticed. I’m nearly always short on sleep, because I frequently wake up hours before I should, and my response has been to just buckle down and force myself to work until it’s a respectable time for a nap. 

And my breathing habits, I have come to realize, are the worst ever. When I’m concentrating intensely, I breathe very shallowly or even hold my breath. I’ve not realized I was doing this, and I’ve had no idea how hard it was on my body. I also got an explanation as to why I so often wake up in the night: the adrenals are so fatigued by my daily abuse that when I sleep is the only time they can recover. They get a bit of a rest and after a few hours they rally and produce their two “fight or flight” hormones—just when I don’t need them. 

The naturopath said that it’ll take a year for these glands to recover. He’s put me on a couple of supplements to nourish and support them, but the greatest help has been a simple tip he gave me that is changing my life. But that will have to wait for another time.

9. Positive is Negative

Remember Labour Day weekend? Ah, glorious warm sunshine! On Sunday, Greg and I drove out to Drayton Valley to join our son Lindsay and his girlfriend on the North Saskatchewan River. They had found a quiet place to camp, right on the riverbank. Soon we were putting the canoe in the water. The four of us piled in, and away we went, swept along by the current. 

What utter delight! I leaned back on a thwart and extended my arms, letting my hands trail in the cool water. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented, so full of joy, so at peace with the world. I thought about a fascinating article I’d read in the Pipestone 
Flyer in early August, about the abundance of negative ions released by moving water; about how healthy they are and how uplifted they make you feel. 

I began to tell Lindsay, behind me on the stern seat, about the article. “So you see,” I concluded at length, “it’s not just that we feel fantastic to be in such a beautiful place, away from the everyday pressures of life. There is something electrical going on that gives us this feeling of well-being.” 

Lindsay’s girlfriend was privy to my monologue also, being seated in the bottom of the canoe facing me. Greg was out of earshot, way up in the bow seat, deliriously waving his fishing rod around. The river carried us along swiftly. It was all going by way too fast. Lindsay turned on the quiet little battery-run motor and turned the canoe upstream into the current in an effort to prolong our ride. Greg let out a hook and let it drag. 

Suddenly—what a surprise!—there was a strike on the line and Greg was whooping and hollering and reeling like mad. Moments later I was netting a four- or five-pound pike. It would make for a great dinner. And so it did, once we had loaded the canoe back onto the truck and returned to our campsite. 

Darkness came quickly. We lingered at the campfire until bedtime beckoned. When I stood up, I was suddenly dizzy. I staggered a little, feeling rather disoriented. “I think my equilibrium is off from all the motion on the river,” I said. 

The view from our bed was breathtaking, a half-moon shining on the river. The embers from our campfire still glowed, sending wafts of wood smoke into our open window. I drifted into a peaceful sleep. 

I woke up several times in the night. I was very aware of the smoke, and it seemed to be bothering me. I closed the window.

When I finally woke up in the morning, I felt horrible. I figured it was from breathing too much smoke, and I pulled on some clothes and went for a walk to clear my head. I felt irritable, depressed, and sick to my stomach. I walked and I prayed, not wanting to bring this attitude back to the campsite with me. 

Over breakfast, Lindsay’s girlfriend was not feeling well. She had woken up in the night drenched in sweat. Now she was nauseated and had a pain behind her eyes that felt like a bad headache coming on. Lindsay didn’t have much of an appetite either, which was very unusual. They packed up and left right after breakfast.

Greg and I took a long, slow walk up a quad trail beside the river and then out onto a sandbar. We stood holding hands, gazing at the beauty around us. I felt terrific now, the strange malaise of the morning having lifted. We were both full to the brim with happiness and gratitude. 

Back at the campfire once again, we shared a pot of black currant tea. As we sipped, he suddenly said, “I don’t feel very good.” And I realized that that sick oppression had fallen on me again like a weight. “I think it’s those power lines,” he continued, glancing up. I had hardly even noticed, but there were huge high-voltage power lines crossing the river there, directly over our campsite. “I think we’d better move our rig,” he said. 

So we did, and we went on to enjoy a blissful afternoon. When we got home, I did some quick googling, and here is what I found: “High voltage power lines are giant positive ion generators,” and, “Positive ions ... may cause ... sleeplessness, irritability, tension, migraine, nausea, heart palpitations, hot flashes with sweating or chills, tremor and dizziness. The elderly become depressed, apathetic and extremely fatigued.” Hmm. I hadn’t realized I was elderly quite yet.

8. The Mystery of Menopause

Why is it that, for the most part, menopause is a subject that stays shrouded in mystery and silence? Every other passage of womanhood is openly talked about and even warmly celebrated. Menopause, on the other hand, is barely mentioned outside of the doctor’s office, except as subject matter for jokes: “My wife’s still hot—only now it comes in flashes.” And yet chances are very good that you, the reader, either are or one day will be a menopausal woman or a man who is living with one. 

Because of the awkward silence on the subject, I had no idea what to expect or where to turn when my body began to go through “the change.” It was trial and error; hit and miss. One of the chiropractors I see (who is so much more than a chiropractor) put me on an herbal combination that was mostly black cohosh. For a span of about five years, this kept a very effective lid on uncomfortable hot flashes and a mental state that continually ranged between mildly and extremely distraught. I wondered if I was going to be on this remedy forever, but I was very grateful for its help. 

Then, just about the time that some women move past this stage and settle into some kind of truce with normalcy, it seemed that my hormones took a dive from low to out-of-sight. Seriously, when I finally had a hormone panel done several months later, the amount of estrogen in my blood was below the measurable level. Hot flashes came hard and fast at any time of night or day. I remember driving with several kids in the car and getting hit with such a sudden and overwhelming wave of heat that I nearly drove off the road trying to rip several layers of clothing off over my head. (Try legislating that in a distracted-driving law.) 

The worst thing about this new hormonal low was that our love-life hit a wall. Physically and emotionally, I was simply incapable of going there. And quite aside from this inability, I didn’t even feel like a woman anymore. I felt like an “it,” completely sexless in my internal sense of identity. (It’s impossible to imagine such a thing if you’ve never experienced it.) 

This was all particularly distressing and ironic because I was poised to release a book about the tremendous healing God had brought to our love-life in the eleventh year of marriage—Made in Heaven, Fleshed Out on Earth. This project, intended to bring hope and help to those who struggle with the ravages of emotional baggage, now felt like a lie. 

My husband, with characteristic objectivity and wisdom, had to give me a little pep talk. “Your book is not a lie. God did do a great healing in our marriage, and we have had fifteen wonderful years of the fruit of that. Now we are going through something again, and God intends to bring us out the other side. We just have to trust Him.”

My GP had put me on a prescription for estrogen for a number of months that did help with some of the love-life issues, but I did not feel at ease about using synthetic hormones, given the HRT controversy in recent years. Then in my online research I came across the subject of bioidentical hormones, which, unlike what I was using, are identical in molecular structure to those originally manufactured by our bodies. When I inquired of my GP and then a gynaecologist, their responses were word-for-word identical: “There is no proof that these hormones are any safer than the conventional ones.” 

I have since come to understand that “there is no proof” because the research hasn’t been done—and likely won’t be—because these hormones, exactly duplicating those existing in nature, cannot be patented. Therefore there is no big, future payola for the researcher; hence, no motivation. 

As I continued to research, I came to understand that bioidentical hormones are made up on a per-case basis by what’s called a compounding pharmacist. But I couldn’t seem to find anything about doctors in my vicinity who might work with these hormones; in fact, a number of sources told me that this type of treatment was not even available in Canada. 

The breakthrough came one day when I typed into my Google search engine “compounding pharmacies Edmonton.” Bingo! Up came the name of a drugstore. I phoned the number, and the pharmacist I spoke to kindly gave me a referral to the woman I now refer to as my “hormone doctor.” The mystery and misery of menopause was on its way to being unravelled.