The Somatics of Urgency: What anxiety, posture, and breath reveal about the culture we’re living in

Last night I had the privilege of hosting a women’s group that I have been facilitating for years. Before COVID, we gathered outside on the land. It was a nature-based group, and the landscape itself was part of the therapeutic container that held us.

When the pandemic hit, everything shifted online. I’ll be honest: I was skeptical.

My entire practice had been built around being physically present with people - face to face, feeling each other’s nervous systems, tracking the subtle cues that emerge when humans sit together in shared space. Trauma work and nature-based therapy online? I wasn’t convinced. Wouldn’t we lose the subtleties that make the work so powerful?

The short answer: not as much as I thought we might.

Is something lost? Yes.
Is telehealth ineffective? Absolutely not.

In fact, there have been some surprising silver linings. People can remain in the comfort of their own homes. There is no commuting stress. Clients show up in sweatpants if they want to. And perhaps most interestingly, I get a window into their real lives in ways that never happened in an office setting.

I meet their furry companions. I see the environments that shape them - and that they are shaping in return. I get a more intimate view of the ecosystem of their daily lives. In many ways, the work becomes more integrative, and I consider myself an integrative practitioner.

There is plenty I could say about what is different in virtual work, the way bodies orient to one another in the same physical space, the sensory experience of sitting together on the land. For now, I’ll leave that conversation for another day, because last night something else stood out to me: Even through screens, the power of women sitting together was palpable.

We began with a grounding meditation. After settling into the space together, I introduced a theme I’ve been noticing across my work with clients lately. One thing I’ve learned to trust over the years is that when a theme keeps appearing, it’s worth leaning into.

The theme was anxiety, overwhelm, and the somatics of urgency.

We live in an urgency culture. A late-stage capitalistic, hyper-individualistic society that is wreaking havoc on people’s nervous systems. What is painful to see, is that many people believe the problem is that they are broken.

The symptoms I see every day are not signs of individual failure. They are the symptoms of delicate human nervous systems trying to adapt to conditions that are profoundly dehumanizing.

Many of the women I work with come into therapy assuming something is wrong with them. They believe their anxiety means they are weak, or failing, or somehow not resilient enough for the life they are living. But more and more, what I see are intelligent, sensitive nervous systems reacting exactly as they were designed to react to a culture that rarely allows them to rest.

Everyone wants to know:

How do I feel less anxious?
How do I sleep better?
How do I stop feeling so angry or overwhelmed?
How do I have better relationships?

But the truth is that the way most of us move through the world is constantly signaling to our brains that something is wrong.

We rush from meeting to meeting.
We scramble to make deadlines.
We treat ordinary moments - school pickup, an inbox full of emails - as if they are life-or-death emergencies.

Our bodies lean forward.
Our breath rises into the chest.
Our speech becomes quick and pressured.

From the perspective of the nervous system, these signals are indistinguishable from real threat.

Many people believe they are anxious, but often what they are experiencing is a nervous system that has been living too long inside a culture of constant urgency.

Anxiety is often what a healthy nervous system looks like inside an unhealthy pace of life.

Research in trauma and neuroscience has shown that the brain does not differentiate well between actual danger and perceived urgency. When our bodies behave as if we are under threat, our brain responds accordingly, activating stress responses and releasing hormones like cortisol and adrenaline designed to help us survive emergencies.

This response is brilliant when we truly need it. But when it happens all day, every day, our systems begin to fray.

Sleep deteriorates.
Relationships strain.
Our bodies carry the burden of chronic activation.

The question I offered to the group last night was this:

If the body can trick the mind into thinking there is danger, could the body also help signal that everything might actually be okay?

The answer is yes.

The best part? It doesn’t have to be complicated.

Research in somatic psychology and polyvagal theory show us that cues of safety, like slower breathing, softened eye muscles, and relaxed posture, can begin to shift the nervous system out of fight-or-flight and into the parasympathetic state responsible for rest, digestion, and repair.

In other words, the way we hold ourselves matters.

A few simple shifts can begin to interrupt the urgency loop:

1. Bring attention to your breath

Slow it down. Allow your breath to move into the lower ribs and belly rather than staying high in the chest.

2. Adjust your posture

Relax your shoulders down your back. Lean slightly back in your chair instead of forward, as if you are bracing for impact.

3. Soften your gaze

Let your eyes relax. You might briefly close them or allow your blinks to lengthen into small pauses.

4. Slow your speech

Notice the cadence of your voice. If it feels pressured or rushed, allow your words to slow down and your tone to soften.

These shifts may seem small, but they can change the conversation happening between your body and your brain.

When your posture softens, when your breath slows, when your eyes and voice relax, your nervous system begins to receive a different message: Maybe there is not actually a crisis.

When the nervous system begins to believe that, the entire body starts to respond.

Last night, as the women practiced these shifts together, even across screens, you could feel the collective exhale.

Shoulders dropped.

Faces softened.

Voices slowed.

Once again I was reminded of something I see over and over in this work: when women gather in spaces where their nervous systems are allowed to settle, something powerful happens.

Humans are wired for co-regulation, the ability for our nervous systems to calm in the presence of others. Research in relational neuroscience shows that supportive social connection can literally help regulate heart rate, breathing patterns, and emotional states.

Women, in particular, have long created spaces of communal regulation, circles where stories are shared, burdens are witnessed, and bodies remember they do not have to carry everything alone.

Even through screens, that ancient pattern still shows up.

Last night it showed up again and it reminded me of something simple and profound:

In a culture built on urgency, the simple act of slowing down together may be one of the most radical things we can do.