I am not a huge fan of resolutions. I don’t need another reason to feel disappointed in myself, so I try pretty hard to avoid making them. If I do make one, I choose a goal that is relatively minor. I might decide to read a certain number of books, or maybe go to bed earlier, or make an effort to be more social.
On the other hand, I also realize that the New Year gives all of us the opportunity to check in with ourselves. The change of the calendar year is a good time to take a little inventory, to make a commitment to personal growth and self-improvement. Most of us could stand to be more forgiving or to eat healthier or to exercise more or to be less judgmental. Most of us also know that by the end of January, all that good living sucks the fun right out of a person.
After a rough end to 2016, I knew I needed to make an effort to find my mojo again. I have been disheartened by the state of politics here and abroad, and that hopeless feeling is not going to go away on its own. I discussed my concerns with my therapist, and she issued me a challenge. She proposed I meditate every day for the next thirty days.
She is fully aware that self-care, and specifically
meditation, is not something that I do. I took a meditation workshop once, and
it wasn’t just an abject failure, it was actually physically painful. I sat in
a room with five strangers, one of whom a business associate of my
father-in-law’s, who was in the midst of a bit of a rough patch in his
marriage. I knew of him and his situation, and he of course knew my last name,
and any attempt I made to clear my mind for the remainder of the workshop was
met with massive internal resistance. My restlessness interfered with the rest
of the workshop participants’ ability to meditate. I never tried that again.
Over the years, my therapist has recommended many things that I have found impossible to accomplish. No meditating. No journaling. No weekend retreats. None of those things that would be specifically for me, to give myself a break, to afford myself the same care and support I freely give to those around me. Me agreeing to meditate for ten to twenty minutes for thirty days is a big fucking deal.
This afternoon, I made my first attempt. I sat in a comfortable position, but not too comfortable so I wouldn’t fall asleep. I selected a guided meditation on my app for boosting self-esteem, and for eleven minutes, I dedicated myself to just listening to the words and not thinking.
My first thought while trying not to think was the girl speaking could not have been older than 14. How was I supposed to find solace in the words of an infant? I attempted to concentrate on her words and not how her voice sounded, but that grew more difficult as the drone of leaf blowers outside grew louder by every second. We don’t have a lawn service, so I knew it wasn’t even in my yard, but Jesus those things are noisy.
I focused on what she said, but I couldn’t. She would make a
statement and then repeat it with emphasis by adding the expression “I desire.”
For example, “I deserve to be loved, I desire to deserve to be loved,” or “I am
good enough, I desire to be good enough.” All that desire was, frankly,
disturbing me. Why desire? Why not yearn or strive or wish to? I was
uncomfortable listening to what this woman desired; it was borderline voyeuristic.
I kept my eyes closed. My left quad began to have a small muscle spasm. She requested I join her for a round of deep breathing. I rushed through my breaths, concentrating too hard on the counting and the holding and the exhaling. While I was breathing, my cat startled me by jumping in my lap. She made biscuits on my arm, staring up at my face with her big saucer eyes, and I thought, I wish I felt the same way about myself that my cat does.
I glanced at my phone, since my eyes were already open and
all. I had been meditating for approximately four minutes and 53 seconds.
I forced my eyes closed again and concentrated on petting my cat’s fur, hoping it would help me stay calm and attentive. I looked at my phone again. I heard the mail truck, that stopping and starting sound of the engine and brakes. The leaf blowing stopped. My cat jumped out of my lap. After what seemed like two hours, my eleven minutes of meditation were over. I have to tell you, it did nothing for my self-esteem.
Maybe tomorrow it will be easier, but I doubt it. I wonder
if there is a guided meditation about meditation.
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