Inktober/Blogtober: Day 2

If you missed yesterday's blog, you might not be aware that this month, I'm fusing Inktober with Blogtober and writing a piece every day, inspired by the Inktober prompt list.  Yesterday, I went down the poetry route, but today's prompt word was "tranquil," so I thought I'd explain how I "discovered" meditation.

I'm not a particularly zen person.  I'm probably not the type you'd stereotypically associate with meditation, if indeed you have a stereotypical image in your head.  In fact, the first time I remember trying it (when I was around 18 and taking an A-Level in Philosophy and Religious Studies, if you're interested), I got the giggles. 

That makes it sound like I merely sniggered a little bit.  What actually happened was I was overcome by such a strong urge to break down into hysterical laughter that I bit the inside of my mouth so hard, it bled.  What can I say?  I'm a very awkward person who laughs at inappropriate moments.

There was no sudden realisation of "woah, I've entered another spiritual plane, maaan," or anything like that.  For 18 year old me, meditation was essentially a few minutes of whale music and trying to hold in my own ridiculous mirth.  Why, yes,  I was and indeed am exceptionally mature, thank you for noticing.

I gave meditation a few more tries, over the years, but it was always either a giggle-fest or a an otherwise awkward experience.  I have one of those noisy brains that never shuts up.  My internal monologue would drive the most patient person insane.  And so, it's quite hard to "clear your mind and relax," when a little voice in your head is constantly going: "Hey, it's ever so quiet, isn't it?  Imagine if you farted really loudly, right now?!"  

It wasn't until early last year, whilst beginning counselling for severe depression, that meditation suddenly changed, for me. 

I'm no stranger to depression, or to counselling for that matter.  I've always been very open about my mental health and I don't believe there's any shame in seeking help.  In fact, I believe it's vital and has potentially saved my life a few times.

But this session was different.  My new counsellor suggested, close to the end of my appointment, that I might like to try meditation.  I figured, okay, I'll go home and fail to sit with my legs crossed (dislocated hip, you see...) and just say "ohm" to myself for a bit.  But no, she wanted me to have a go at it there and then.  Obviously, because this is me speaking, panic set in and I prepared myself for the inevitable mouth-biting injury I'd have to deal with, later.

But after the first few awkward minutes, a strange thing happened.  It clicked.

I'm not going to say I saw incredible sights from deep within my subconscious, but I did see shapes.  Everyone's gotta start somewhere, guys...  And not only did I see shapes, but those shapes were connected to areas of my body where I was carrying stress and anxiety.  I saw my stomach turn from an angry red, to a softer green.  The same went for my chest.

For someone who'd been having severe stomach cramps and regular asthma attacks, that was kind of a big deal.  What was an even bigger deal was the fact that afterwards, I felt physically better than I had in weeks.  The endless gnawing in my belly had ceased.  The tightness in my chest was gone.

Now, I see meditation far differently to the way I saw it before.  I use guided sleep meditations on YouTube fairly regularly and they genuinely help me to switch off, relax and empty my head of thoughts from the day.  I find on the nights I actually take the time to do a sleep meditation properly, I drift into a much deeper slumber than usual and wake up feeling more refreshed, the next day.

I've also, through YouTube videos and reading up online, taught myself a few "on the go" techniques for coping with stressful or upsetting situations.  I can - sometimes, I'm not perfect at it by any means -  find a way to control my breathing and relax my body enough to calm myself down when I might otherwise struggle to keep going.

It turns out that maybe meditation is for me, after all.  And whilst I'm exceptionally picky about the videos I play on YouTube when I want to try it (if it's a guided meditation and the person is standing too close to their mic, so you can hear their lips smacking together, that's an immediate HARD NO), I do feel like I've benefited from persevering with it.

I guess the moral here is don't just write something off - have a proper go at it, before you decide it's not for you.  

Or maybe the moral is just: "Eventually, something will come along to temporarily flick your noisy brain's off-switch"?  Now that is something I'm eternally grateful for...