A few months back, I reached a breaking point. My life felt like it was spiraling out of control: my relationship, my children, the peeling paint on the walls, the incessant barking of our dog whenever a delivery arrived, and, of course, the chaotic political landscape. This overwhelming stress manifested as sudden outbursts of anger and quiet spells of crying. Juggling caffeine, my busy schedule, and an ever-present sense of anxiety was draining. Staying positive and engaged in daily life became an uphill battle.
Recognizing that I needed to make a change, I explored various self-care options like acupuncture, weekly foot massages, and even nutritional cleanses. However, the idea of cutting out all my favorite foods felt like torture. After chatting with friends and eavesdropping on a barista at a coffee shop who claimed meditation transformed her from a stressball into a serene goddess, I decided to give it a shot. In 2012, nearly 18 million adults in the U.S. practiced meditation, as reported by the National Center for Health Statistics. I was ready to join the ranks.
Meditation seemed like a game-changer, but being somewhat skeptical, I conducted thorough research. It was recommended to start with guided meditation, ideally in the morning. Benefits were enticing: enhanced relaxation and focus, reduced stress and anxiety, improved memory, and even a slower aging process. All I had to do was find a quiet spot, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. Oh, and I needed to commit to daily sessions for effective results. Wait—what if I missed a day? Anything could happen: illness, emergencies, or life in general.
Could it be that just the thought of meditating was causing me anxiety? I refused to give up before even starting. Pushing my fears aside, I downloaded a meditation app narrated by a soothing British voice named Sam. The next morning, filled with determination, I rose early before the rest of my family, settled into a cozy chair, and surrendered to Sam for what felt like the longest ten minutes of my life.
Sam assured me that some days would be easier than others. Truthfully, I wasn’t fully aware of his words because I was distracted by his calming tone and still half-asleep without my morning coffee. What good could meditation do without caffeine? I shrugged it off and began to breathe, in and out, just as Sam instructed.
Then, the neighbor’s dog began to bark, triggering my own dog to join in. I attempted to ignore it, but Sam encouraged me to focus on the sounds around me. Fine, I did, but that only raised my heart rate, as I anticipated a barking frenzy that would surely wake my child. The last seven minutes of the session were spent straining to listen for my kindergartner, worrying about lunch preparations, and mentally scheduling my next hair appointment.
Clearly, that first day was one of those tough days. Nevertheless, I persisted, dragging myself out of bed each morning to sit and breathe. I wish I could say that after nearly two months of ten-minute meditations, I became a happier, calmer, and more productive person, but that wasn’t the case.
During those moments of silence, I might begin by visualizing my body filling with liquid gold and radiating kindness, but my thoughts quickly spiraled into anxiety. I found myself mapping escape routes from a hypothetical house fire, imagining earthquake scenarios while driving across the Bay Bridge (we live in Oakland), and desperately fighting the urge to check if my partner remembered the garbage.
Sam advised me to acknowledge my wandering mind, focus on my breath, and gently redirect my thoughts back to the present. However, the more I cleared my mind of immediate worries, the more room I inadvertently made for deeper anxieties to surface. In my non-meditation hours, I often felt more anxious than ever, completely unmotivated to take action. I gained weight, neglected bills, and struggled to stay awake past 8 p.m. I missed my anxiety-driven productivity; at least then I accomplished tasks.
My family might argue that I was kinder—after all, I was yelling less—but I wouldn’t claim to be happier. While not being constantly angry was a step up, I felt a sense of detachment. The stressful thoughts that arose during meditation, including my doubts about my ability to meditate effectively, lingered.
After eight weeks of trying, I decided to stop. Perhaps I’ll revisit meditation in the future when I’m ready. For now, I will embrace the one lesson that stuck with me: sending bolts of loving-kindness to those who annoy me while driving is far more satisfying than cursing them out.
Summary
This article details the author’s experience with meditation and how it inadvertently added to her stress rather than alleviating it. After attempting to meditate daily for eight weeks, she found herself feeling detached and anxious instead of calm and focused. While she acknowledges improvements in her demeanor, she ultimately concludes that traditional meditation may not be the right fit for her at this time.
Keyphrase: meditation stress relief
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