A soul story by Jenn Michaux

I’m Jenn Michaux—breathwork facilitator, mother of five, and woman who spent decades folding herself into systems and expectations that nearly silenced her.

The breath didn’t fix me. It brought me home.

If you're circling a truth you can’t un-hear, this is the story of how I found mine.

(You can scroll down to read the full story)

I’m standing in the upstairs bathroom, door closed, body shaking, as wave after wave of sobs break through me.

Just moments before, a family member had been sharing her healing journey after an emergency c-section. And suddenly, the weight I’d been carrying—years of unprocessed trauma from the birth of my last child—rushed to the surface. I hadn’t known that my body was holding that trauma. I hadn’t known that my volcanic rage, my shame, my inner chaos, the dark clouds over my mothering, my marriage, my faith—weren’t just mine to carry as character flaws. They were the residue of the birth trauma and the weight of many years of losses, unspoken fears, motherhood under pressure, spiritual dissonance, and the generational grief I had been taught to bypass with a smile. I never gave myself permission to feel any of it. And it all gushed forward.

That bathroom became the place where my nervous system broke and opened. Where my body and emotions finally met. Where I sobbed for a half hour and then, just as suddenly, went still. Quiet. Reassembled.

I didn’t understand it all yet. But I knew something essential:

It wasn’t all my fault.

It just was.

And my body had been waiting for me to listen.