What Happens When You Touch the Place Your Anxiety Lives
Dear Brewtiful,
I've recently discovered that I hold a lot of my anxiety in my solar plexus area. Massaging it feels so good in the moment, but then I experience a long anxiety attack that can last for days. Why is this happening, and how can I manage it better?
Sincerely,
Tense and Triggered
Dear Tense and Triggered,
Let me start here: what you’re experiencing is real. You’re not imagining it. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just waking up to the fact that the body keeps score in places you didn’t know were keeping tally.
The solar plexus is more than just a nerve hub tucked beneath your ribcage—it’s where control, shame, and unprocessed fear like to live rent-free. So when you press into it—gently, lovingly—you’re not just touching fascia. You’re knocking on the emotional panic room.
And sometimes? The door swings open.
Why It Feels Good—Then So Bad
You’re not weird for loving the relief. That warmth. That softness. It feels like release. But the reason you’re crashing afterward is because release is not the same as regulation.
What’s happening is this:
Stored trauma + suppressed emotion live in your gut like static.
The massage momentarily releases the pressure valve.
But without grounding tools in place, all that trapped energy floods your system like an uninvited guest.
Your body scrambles to make sense of it. Cue the long, unpredictable anxiety spiral.
This isn’t failure. This is somatic memory doing its thing.
What to Do Instead of Panic
Let’s be honest—you're not trying to never touch that space again. You’re trying to build a relationship with it. Here’s how to do that with more safety and less backlash:
1. Soften Your Entry
Stop deep-diving. For now, no hard pressure. Think featherlight. Gentle touch. Maybe just resting your hand over the solar plexus while breathing slowly. Teach your body that it’s safe to be met softly—not broken into.
2. Pair It With Breath, Not Thought
The moment you touch that spot, don’t analyze. Don’t spiral.
Breathe.
In through the nose, expand your belly.
Out through the mouth, slow and soft.
Let your nervous system lead—not your fear.
3. Have a Post-Touch Ritual
After any release work, do something grounding:
Sip warm tea.
Walk barefoot outside.
Hug a pillow.
Write one sentence in a journal like: “I am safe in this moment.”
You’re not just releasing. You’re reintegrating. That matters.
4. Know Your Triggers Aren’t Enemies—They’re Unresolved Conversations
If touching your solar plexus opens the door to anxiety, that’s your body asking to be heard. Maybe not fixed. Maybe not even fully understood yet. But heard.
So instead of asking “Why am I broken?” try:
“What part of me is still waiting for safety?”
Final Thought?
You’re not doing too much. You’re not too sensitive. You’re just in the middle of a body-based reckoning.
The solar plexus is where your need to feel powerful clashes with the fear that you never truly were. But every time you meet it with softness instead of force? That’s power, too. That’s healing, unfolding—one cautious touch at a time.
You’re not just coping.
You’re listening.
And that’s the bravest thing you can do.
With grounded breath and gentle hands,
Brewtiful
