I Can’t Meditate Because Meditation Makes Me More Stressed

home insemination Kit

A few months back, I reached my breaking point. Everything felt like too much: my relationship, my kids, the sagging windows in my house, the dog barking at every delivery person, and let’s not forget the utterly baffling state of our nation’s politics. This tidal wave of stress manifested in sudden bursts of frustration and quiet tearful moments. Caffeine, an overpacked schedule, and a relentless stream of anxiety kept me moving. Staying upbeat and in the moment became an uphill battle.

I realized I needed a change. I explored acupuncture, regular foot massages, and even considered a food cleanse—though the idea of giving up my favorite foods felt more like torture. After chatting with friends and eavesdropping on a barista at a local café rave about her transformation from a stress-filled mess to a zen master, I decided to give meditation a shot. According to the National Center for Health Statistics, nearly 18 million adults in the U.S. turned to meditation in 2012. I was eager to join the trend.

Meditation seemed like the ultimate lifesaver, but I approached it with skepticism. I did some homework, and it appeared that guided meditation was the best way to start. Mornings were touted as the prime time for meditating, with benefits like increased relaxation, better focus, reduced stress and anxiety, improved memory, and even slowing down the aging process. All I needed was a quiet spot to sit, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. Oh, and I had to commit to doing it daily. What if I skipped a day? What if my 5-year-old fell ill? What if I caught the flu?

Could the very idea of meditation be adding to my anxiety? I refused to give up before I began. I tucked my worries away and downloaded a meditation app narrated by a soothingly pleasant British fellow named Oliver. The next morning, I woke up early, settled into my favorite chair, and surrendered to Oliver for ten of the longest minutes of my life.

Oliver reassured me that some days meditation would feel effortless, while on others, it might be a struggle. Honestly, I barely absorbed what he said since I was distracted by his charming voice, and I was only half-awake without my usual caffeine fix. What was the point of meditating without coffee?! Nevertheless, I followed his instructions: breathe in, breathe out.

Then, the neighbor’s dog started barking, triggering my own dog to join in. I tried to ignore it, but Oliver instructed me to be aware of the sounds around me. Fine, I focused, but the barking sent my heart racing because I knew a howling contest was about to erupt, and my kindergartner would surely burst into my supposed Zen zone. The remaining seven minutes felt like an eternity as I scanned for the 5-year-old, worried about lunch supplies, and mentally made a haircut appointment before my stylist’s schedule filled up.

Clearly, my first day was one of those tough ones. Yet, I persisted, groggily rolling out of bed and trudging to my chair to breathe. I wish I could say that after nearly two months of ten-minute sessions, I emerged as a happier, calmer, more efficient person, but that wasn’t the reality.

During those quiet moments, I might start visualizing my body filling with liquid gold, radiating loving kindness, but my thoughts quickly derailed into stress. I’d find myself contemplating escape routes in case of a house fire, what I’d do during an earthquake while driving across the Bay Bridge (we live in Oakland), or whether my husband remembered to take out the trash on Tuesday mornings.

Oliver advised me to notice my wandering thoughts and gently redirect my focus to my breath. However, the more I tried to clear my mind, the more room I created for deeper anxieties to surface. In my non-meditating hours, I often felt more anxious than ever and utterly unmotivated to do anything about it. I gained 4 pounds, forgot to pay bills, and barely stayed awake past 8 p.m. I missed my anxiety-fueled productivity. At least then, I got things done.

My family might say I was nicer because I wasn’t yelling as much, and maybe that’s true, but I wouldn’t call myself happier. Not being angry all the time was an improvement, yet I felt disconnected. I couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts that arose during meditation, including the feeling that I was simply doing it wrong.

After eight weeks, I called it quits. Perhaps I’ll revisit meditation someday when I’m ready. Until then, I’ll stick to the one takeaway that resonated with me because sending bolts of liquid-gold loving kindness to the inconsiderate drivers on the road genuinely feels better than cursing them out. If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out this helpful blog post for more insights.

In summary, while meditation is often touted as a remedy for stress, it can sometimes lead to more anxiety, especially for those with a lot on their plates. Finding what works for you is essential, whether it’s meditation, relaxation techniques, or something entirely different.