So… I’ve been meditating for a month, give or take a few days. I think I missed Christmas, but that’s allowed isn’t it? (Shhh, yes, it is!)
I didn’t know what to expect. And well… I still don’t. It would be silly to say I am a different person, it would be silly to say I’ve changed a noticeable amount at all. As with most things – for right, or wrong – I went into it without any expectations, without any preconceptions of what might happen, of what I might feel. Do I feel different, maybe not. Though, I have come to realise that is not the purpose of it anyway. Not to get fixated on the end-game, or the result – but to acknowledge the journey, and what the act of it in itself might one day achieve.
On some days I don’t feel like meditating. Maybe that’s because it has not yet become habit, entwined within my routine – maybe it is something else, a resistance to myself, a lingering servitude to some darker thought. Does it really matter? I tell myself to do it, to sit down for fifteen or twenty minutes, to walk along the path to finding a more in-touch version of myself. Because one day I know it will pay off.
One of my main motivations is, for those of you who don’t know, to overcome my fairly debilitating Social Anxiety. The one that caused me to run away from university after a week. Just remembering back to late September is painful. So, I await this year’s September for when I return. For when I integrate into society after being institutionalised within the catacombs of my own anxious, depressed mind.
I’ll take any help I can stumble upon – meditation being just one thing! Because I have realised it is not the time to live life in the gutter of self-hatred, in the lake of resignation, on the island of utter loneliness.
So, here’s to better times, and to better minds.