How My Breathwork Session Turned Me into a T-Rex (For a Moment)

I remember the moment all too clearly: I’m lying on the floor in the middle of Tony Robbins’ Life Mastery Seminar — when my arms start to turn into these tiny little dinosaur limbs. Now, before you decide I watched one too many Jurassic Park movies, let me break it down for you. The culprit here is something called “tetany,” which can happen during deep breathwork sessions. As first impressions go, it’s a fascinating doozy. Imagine full T-Rex mode, arms locked at an angle you never intended, tears streaming down my face like one of those anime characters having a meltdown.

That was me. This all started when Jon Paul — the super-knowledgeable instructor guiding us through breathwork — casually said, “By the way, if you get T-Rex hands, it’s normal.” Then he breezed right ahead to the main exercise. Okay I’m exaggerating because he was actually incredibly clear in mentally prepping us for what was ahead. I just shrugged, thinking, “nahhh, that won’t happen to me.” And let me tell you, as it turns out, I’m apparently a prime candidate for prehistoric arm poses.

The Breathwork Breakdown

As I dove deeper into the two-stage breath — belly, chest, release — the physical sensations snuck up on me. My hands began to lock up, my arms took on a mind of their own, and tears just flooded out without a single clear emotional trigger. None of this was at all painful even to the slightest degree. It felt like my body was crying for every sad commercial I’d ever seen in my life. But weirdly, it wasn’t sad. If anything, it felt cathartic, like clearing out old dusty boxes from my emotional attic that I never realized were there.

Now, breathe in (pun intended) the comedic side of this story. My fancy smartwatch suddenly decided that I was in catastrophic distress. It’s like the poor thing was screaming, “System overload! Human heart meltdown imminent!” So, it starts blasting an EMS alert, and I’m panicking because I can’t turn it off. My arms are locked! I look like a lost T-Rex scrounging around for a button that’s virtually impossible to press when you can’t operate your wrists.

Biting Off More Than I Could Chew (Literally)

Speaking of frantic button-pushing… Let’s just say I put the “fight” in “fight or flight” that day. My watch was seconds away from calling emergency services, my partner, Jeannette, was about to burst into the room, see me lying on the floor crying and flapping about, and I was obviously in no condition to calmly say, “Oh, hey, honey, don’t worry, it’s just breathwork.” My only option? I took a literal bite out of my watch band to yank it off before it could bring a squad of paramedics to my door. It was like a scene from an action movie — if the hero was an overly emotional T-Rex with questionable dexterity.

You can probably guess I now need a replacement watch band. Desperate times, desperate (and slightly hilarious) measures. The best part? I’d do it again in a heartbeat because the emotional release was worth every second of that primal spectacle. It felt like a total cleansing of random baggage that had been rattling around in my subconscious. Afterwards, it was as though my mind and body hit the reset button.

Breathwork as a Life-Changer

Sarcasm aside, the transformation I experienced was unreal. I didn’t have vivid flashbacks or big revelations about childhood drama. Rather, it was more about letting go, without really needing to pinpoint any single issue. It was like every ounce of stress I’d been hoarding decided to go on vacation. And that’s the beauty of breathwork: you don’t necessarily need to “figure out” what baggage you’re offloading. Your body just knows, and it’s all-too-eager to do some spring cleaning.

So here’s my million-star review shout-out to Jon Paul for guiding me (and my T-Rex arms) through an epic release. If you ask me, that spontaneous meltdown was one of the most healing experiences I’ve ever had — worth every tear, bite, and smartwatch meltdown. Also, maybe remove your watch ahead of time. Trust me, your teeth (and your watch band) will thank you.

I’m not telling you to ditch common sense, of course. If you feel weird sensations and your watch is practically screaming “Go to the ER now,” maybe check with a medical professional.

But if you’re safe, supported, and under the guidance of someone who really knows breathwork, you might find yourself having one of the most liberating, cathartic experiences you’ve ever felt, potential T-Rex arms and all. And that, my friends, is something far more valuable than a secondhand silicone strap.