A few months back, I found myself overwhelmed. My marriage, my children, the peeling paint on the windows, the incessant barking of the dog whenever the delivery person arrived, and the chaotic state of our nation all contributed to my stress. This emotional overload manifested in sudden bursts of anger and quiet moments of tears. Caffeine, my packed schedule, and a constant sense of anxiety fueled my daily routine. Remaining positive and mindful became an uphill battle.
Recognizing that I needed a shift, I explored various options like acupuncture, weekly massages, and even a food cleanse, though the idea of cutting out my favorite foods felt cruel. After chatting with friends and overhearing a barista at a coffee shop regale her story of transformation through meditation, I decided to give it a shot. According to a report from the National Center for Health Statistics, nearly 18 million adults in the U.S. practiced meditation in 2012. I was eager to join this growing community.
Meditation sounded like a game-changer, but I approached it with skepticism. I researched and found that guided meditation was a good starting point, especially in the morning. The touted benefits included reduced stress and anxiety, increased focus, and even a slowdown in aging. All I needed to do was find a quiet spot to sit, close my eyes, and breathe deeply—oh, and commit to doing it daily. But what if I missed a day? With kids, who knew what could happen? Illness could strike.
Could it be that the very thought of meditating was adding to my anxiety? I refused to abandon the idea before even trying. I set aside my apprehensions, downloaded a meditation app narrated by a soothing British voice named Henry, and the following morning, I woke early, eager to meditate before my family stirred. I settled into my chair and surrendered myself to Henry for ten of the longest minutes of my life.
Henry reassured me that some days would be easier than others for meditation. Honestly, I barely absorbed his words, as I was distracted by his calming accent and still half-asleep, having not yet had my morning coffee. What value was this practice without caffeine?! I took a deep breath, in and out, following Henry’s instructions.
Then, the neighbor’s dog began barking, which inevitably prompted my dog to join in. I tried to ignore the noise, but Henry encouraged me to notice my surroundings. Fine. I focused on the sounds, but this only heightened my anxiety as I anticipated the impending barking match, which would surely wake my child and disrupt my moment of peace. The last few minutes of my session were spent fretting about my daughter’s potential wake-up, worrying about whether I had enough sandwich bread for school lunches, and mentally reminding myself to schedule my next haircut before it was too late.
Clearly, this was one of those tough days. Nevertheless, I persisted, dragging myself out of bed each morning to meditate. I wish I could say that after nearly two months of dedicating ten minutes a day to meditation, I became a happier, calmer person, but that wasn’t the case.
During my meditation, I might start with visions of filling up with golden light, but soon my thoughts spiraled into stress mode. I found myself mentally mapping escape routes from a potential house fire, wondering what I’d do if an earthquake struck while I was driving, and anxiously checking if my husband remembered to take out the trash. Henry advised me to recognize when my mind wandered and gently return my focus to my breathing. However, the more I attempted to clear my head, the more my deeper anxieties emerged. Surprisingly, I felt more anxious than ever during my non-meditation hours, yet I lacked the motivation to tackle those feelings. I even gained a few pounds, neglected my bills, and struggled to stay awake past 8 p.m. I longed for the anxiety-driven energy that once propelled me.
My family might say I was less irritable, which could be true, but I didn’t feel genuinely happier. While not being angry was a step up, I felt detached from my true self. The stressful thoughts I encountered during meditation, including doubts about my abilities, lingered.
After eight weeks, I decided to stop meditating. Perhaps I might revisit it someday when the time is right. Until then, I’ll hold onto one lesson: sending out waves of kindness to those who annoy me on the road feels way better than letting my frustrations out.
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Summary
In her journey to find calm through meditation, the author experiences heightened anxiety rather than tranquility. Despite her initial hopes, meditation becomes a source of stress, prompting her to reconsider its place in her life. Ultimately, she finds solace in the notion of sending kindness to others, rather than adhering strictly to the practice of meditation.