I’m Tired of Hearing About “Nervous System Regulation” in Yoga

It feels as though I can predict exactly when the phrase “regulate your nervous system” is about to appear in certain familiar places, including yoga classes, wellness posts on social media, breathwork videos, and conversations about healing. At this point, it seems like less of a common expression and more like a tired script.

And it’s not just the words that I hear over and over again. It’s the underlying promise they imply—that practicing yoga or other self-care rituals always regulates your nervous system, which leads to a lasting state of inner peace and tranquility.

This isn’t entirely inaccurate. Yoga has been a powerful tool in helping me begin to work through the emotions I’ve built up in my body—grief, burnout, and chronic stress—before I could process them mentally. I’ve walked into class feeling scattered and drained, only to leave feeling more grounded than I’d been in months. And that makes sense since scientific research backs up the claims that certain techniques, including yoga and breathwork, aid in managing stress levels.

Still, I’ve developed a level of discomfort when I hear someone say something will “regulate your nervous system,” as if it’s a cure-all.

That’s where I struggle.

There’s a faction of wellness culture that mistakenly promotes the idea of nervous system regulation as a state of calm and composure. It also uses challenging emotions as an indicator of some malfunction within the self. The message can start to sound like this: “If you’re overwhelmed, you’re not regulated. Grief requires nothing more than a few grounding yoga poses. Rage simply calls for a couple of deep breaths.”

What concerns me is the rapid transition from scientific language to emotional expectations. At some point along the way, the phrase “nervous system regulation” has gone from being a legitimate framework for emotional processing to something that could now basically be interpreted as, “Be calm— and do it quickly!”

But that approach doesn’t “heal” anything. It simply offers a nicer-sounding instruction to temporarily compose oneself by superficially concealing what’s beneath.

When we equate regulation with constantly being calm, and tout that as somehow the “goal” of yoga, we’re alienating the nuanced emotional experiences of everyone who steps onto their mats. What if I’m taking slow breaths yet seething with rage? What if I’ve just finished class yet I’m overcome by sadness? What if I’ve gained peace of mind but my heart still hurts? Did I not achieve the desired result of regulating my nervous system? And for many who’ve been accused of being too sensitive or too intense, the message is all the more confronting.

Even when yoga produces a calm feeling, that doesn’t mean all other emotions are silenced. There are times I’ve come out of yoga class feeling physically content yet critical of myself for not feeling better. I thought it was my fault for not breathing right or surrendering properly or that I simply wasn’t able to “heal.” And that’s not what anyone’s practice should become.

Having a balanced nervous system does not mean that one no longer feels activated. It doesn’t mean that one stops feeling anger, sadness, or fear. It means being able to move through those emotions without each of them being a crisis of its own. Just like yoga, it’s a practice of returning to yourself again and again.

Some of the most significant lessons I’ve learned while practicing yoga happened not in a state of tranquility. Instead, I became aware. That, to me, is the more honest gift of yoga. Not becoming serene all the time. Not turning yourself into someone endlessly soothing to be around. Just becoming real enough to stay with yourself even when what you feel isn’t calm at all.

Now, when I hear people talk about regulating the nervous system, I try to think less about becoming calm and more about becoming present. Less about fixing what I feel and more about noticing it without judgment. Some days, meeting myself where I’m at is the closest thing to regulation I know.