I've given up trying to meditate
At least, the way I thought I was 'supposed to'. Here's what I do instead.
Am I a ‘bad’ meditator?
My original version of this post was me guiltily confessing to the fact that I have never, despite trying on and off for 18 years, been able to maintain a daily meditation practice. Or even a weekly one. Not even close.
I felt guilty because I believed the idea that daily meditation is something I’m ‘supposed’ to do. That it unequivocally is helpful to everyone, and that not doing it every day is very ‘bad’: akin to my inability to maintain a consistent exercise practice.
But over the past few days, as I’ve written and re-written this post and mulled it all over in my head, I came to a realisation when I woke up this morning:
It’s not that I can’t meditate - it’s that I don’t want to meditate alone.
Meditation is no substitute for love
I was first told that I ought to meditate when I was in the deep darkness of despair and self-hatred in my early 20s. My therapist and anyone else who wanted to give me advice said that it would help me to cope with my painful feelings.1
So I dutifully bought Jon Kabat-Zinn’s book The Mindful Way Through Depression and listened to the CD of guided meditations. I would try to meditate when I was desperate for a drink. Focusing on my breathing, noticing my thoughts, and trying, trying, trying not to drink.
But I was just sitting on my own, listening to a CD, terror gripping my heart. I was just trying to endure being alive. Meditating wasn’t a substitute for what I really needed. And what I really needed was someone to hug me and say: ‘Ellie, I love you, you’re OK, and I want you to be here’.
Is meditation good for everyone?
“We shouldn’t be surprised about meditation having variable benefits from person to person. After all, the practice wasn’t intended to make us happier or less stressed, but to assist us in diving deep within and challenging who we believe we are.”
- Catherine Wilkholm, co-author of The Buddha Pill
Now, at this point I’m going to stop myself going down the rabbit-hole of exploring the origins of meditation, McMindfulness, and the negative effects that meditation can cause some people. I invite you to dive into this yourself, as it’s fascinating and something I intend to explore more myself.2
I will keep this focused on my personal experiences and realisations. But I will say: the more I have learned about the origins of meditation since writing this article, the more I realise my issues with meditation are probably not a case of me doing it ‘wrong’, but of me not getting on with a very specific kind of meditation.
I love my life now… so why do I keep trying to something I probably don’t need to do?
I have undergone a life-changing transformation since beginning my journey to quit alcohol seven years ago. If I could sum it up in a sentence: I love my life now.
As someone who was suicidal and causing myself significant emotional and physical harm for a long time, to be able to say that I love my life now is honestly a miracle that I will always be grateful for.
So… why do I keep trying to meditate? I never want to sit on the floor of my bedroom, close my eyes, and notice my thoughts. Usually, my thoughts are rushing around. I get antsy. I fidget. I think of other things. I try to just notice that that’s what’s happening. I bring myself back to my breath. I think some more. I fidget some more. I open my eyes and look at my watch: Oh my god I’ve only been doing this for 30 seconds!! That’s probably enough then. And I jump up and go about my day.
It’s not surprising that my brain doesn’t eagerly suggest I do that again.
I’m giving up!
Now I know that my discomfort is probably a sign that meditation in this way would help me. I know that you have to keep doing this for ages and ages to see any changes. I know you have to stick with it for it to get easier and then - maybe - there’s a point where it finally clicks and you actually want to sit down and notice your breathing and notice your thoughts rather than do LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.
But, you know what? I’ve decided that it’s OK to give up on this.3 I’m not going to pay for another course or another coach or another book to try and force myself to do something I don’t want to do and - crucially - I don’t think I need to.
I don’t want to force myself because that goes against everything I have learned on my road to recovery. Self-trust and listening to the wisdom of my own body - rather than doing what other people say I ‘should’ do - has been crucial to me quitting drinking and treating myself with love and care.
The wisdom of egrets and deer
I was inspired to write this post by Ask a Sober Lady’s recent post about how she watches the deer in her garden instead of sitting down on her own to meditate. She says:
“If meditation is an exercise in quieting one’s mind, focusing on the present moment, breathing through discomfort, and fostering a sense of inner peace, these deer have done more for me than every guided meditation app on the planet.”
I was mulling this over this morning as I watched a white egret stalk about on the river’s edge behind our house. The strong wind ruffled its feathers and I noticed its spiky feet were a surprising green-yellow. I was not in agony; I was in awe.
And suddenly I thought: hang on. Hang on just one minute! Meditating, exercise, cold-water swimming - it’s not that I fail at these things inherently, it’s that I need do to them in connection with other living beings.
Joy, presence and connection with others
Workouts with others: I love doing an hour of yoga in the church hall, or a workout in the field near Tesco, often laughing with other people as we fall over attempting tree-pose or forget the workout instructions. At home I can just about grit my teeth through a Joe Wick’s 20 minute workout.
Chanting together: I have recently explored chanting with a local Buddhist group and had the best evening the other day doing 20 minutes of chanting in a cosy living room (see video below). At home on my own I manage maybe 2 minutes.
I enjoy guided meditations - like yoga nidra, visualisations and Sarah Blondin’s, which are more like soothing stories. Although I’m listening to a recording, I feel like I am being supported and held by someone else with a calm, comforting voice.
The practice of Focusing is most powerful, I find, when done with another person who gently guides me to stay with what is alive for me. It allows sensations, feelings and images to reveal themselves and shift and change. It’s quite a mysterious and magical experience, that I have found hard to replicate on my own.
I often invite clients in our one-to-one and group sessions to begin with an arrival or grounding practice.4 We breathe deeply together, notice sensations in our bodies without trying to change them, and welcome whatever is present for us right now. We open our eyes, smile at each other; then we begin.
Swimming: I completely forget that cold-water swimming is even a thing (despite me buying all the kit) until my friend Vicky suggest we go to the sea, lake or Lido and I merrily trot along.
Walking on the nature reserve, there is no ‘trying’ to be present and quieten my thoughts and breathe deeply. All I do is notice the exquisite sound of the wind in the trees, or watch a robin turning its head to watch me. An insect buzzes past my ear to remind me: Ellie, you are here, you are here, you are here.
‘The most helpful way to practice resting in awareness is for brief moments, many times a day.’ - Tara Brach
Solo meditations that don’t feel like agony
Why have I believed for so long that I should be meditating on my own every single day? Because I believed that it would bring me calm, connection and presence.
But I realise I have many practices that bring me just that: and joy, too.
Being mindful in nature: breathing deep, noticing the sound of the wind in the trees, the blue of the sky, the solid ground under my feet. I had to learn and practice this: now it comes to me effortlessly.
Mindfulness at different points in the day, when I remember. Like noticing my son’s warm little body pressed against me and focusing on the bedtime story I’m reading him, rather than thinking of other things.
Listening to Tara Brach’s podcast and coming out of ‘the trance of unworthiness.’
Writing three things I’m grateful for at bedtime: perhaps the one consistent practice I’ve kept since I started quitting drinking over 7 years ago.
I practice self-compassion and often use Kristen Neff’s short practices to help me.
When I need it, I write down my thoughts and use Byron Katie’s The Work practice to question whether they’re true.
It is possible to practice Focusing on your own, and it helps even if you do just a few minutes. Here, I talk you though the process and you can listen to a recording of me if that helps. I have found Focusing a much more gentle, compassionate and realistic way to be with my feelings, to be with what is, than any attempt I’ve made at solo meditating. Simon McKibbon’s recordings are wonderful.
I’d love to hear from you
My intention is not to discourage anyone from trying a meditation practice if it’s something they want to explore. My overall aim is to encourage people to do what feels right for them, and not feel obligated to practice something that doesn’t feel safe, helpful or possible.
I’m sure some people reading this will have found a daily meditation practice to be hugely helpful to them - and I’d love to hear from you. How do you think it’s helped you? How have you managed to stick to a consistent practice? Have I misunderstood meditation and how to meditate completely?? (highly likely!)
And for those of you who don’t meditate regularly, I’d love to hear your story. Have you tried it but it wasn’t right for you? Why not? Are you like me and meditate or practice mindfulness in your daily life in various, manageable ways, rather than a dedicated daily practice? And if you don’t meditate at all, what supports your wellbeing?
A couple of updates
Price increase for pay-monthly
From 1 October I will be slightly increasing the price of the pay-monthly option on my 3 month sober coaching packages. This is to cover the additional admin costs. If you want to save you can either sign up for coaching (and make your first payment) before the 1 October, or you can pay the full amount up front.
More details of pricing and how one-to-one sober coaching can help you here.
Women’s sobriety support circle fully booked! Waitlist open
I’m delighted to share that our first circle is fully booked, but email me at hello@ellie-nova.com if you’d like to be on the waitlist in case a space comes up. This circle is free for everyone. If you can’t make it, you are welcome to join a circle at a later date for free instead. More details here.
I was also told to take antidepressants and to sit in a room in the GP surgery, alone, doing a CBT course on a computer. I now know that I wasn’t sick with depression, but was in fact struggling with unexpressed grief, unprocessed trauma, drowning in an alcohol addiction and in need of comfort and love.
This article and this podcast episode are very interesting in exploring the positive negative effects of meditation, and I was fascinated to learn that meditation practices are present in all the world religions, and in nature-based spirituality like Druidry. Some believe that our ancestors meditating around the fire each night changed how our brains developed, improving memory and enabling us to connect symbols and meaning.
Maybe just for now - I am open to the possibility that one day, maybe I will finally find a way that works for me.
I always check first if a client is comfortable with this kind of meditation, both by asking them in the moment and in our written coaching agreement before we have our first session. In group sessions I assure everyone that they should always check in with what feels right for them and that no practice is obligatory. Developing self-trust is one of the most important aspects of healing. I am merely a guide with suggestions; not a teacher with the right answers.





I think we have such a skewed idea what meditation is, or maybe what mindfulness it. Like you shared there are so many ways to notice what is going on inside of us and be with it, which in my opinion is what meditation is for anyways. I meditate quite frequently, but I gave up on trying to make my mind quite and I label what comes to my brain. I don’t always feel different after I meditate, but I do notice my brain will notice what it is doing during the day and I spiral less often...sometimes, depends on the season!
Thanks Ellie. This chimes a lot with my story of meditation. I was asked recently (the person who knew I was a Buddhist once) What meditation do you do? I answered "Focusing"! A core piece in all of this is how the idea of meditation is so often associated with "trying to feel different" (calmer/peaceful). It so easily skips the practice of just being with how we are! (There are meditation methods that are totally not about this assumption....) Anyway, I'm glad you bring out the point that being with others is hugely important and definitely one of the reasons I found meditation hard - on my own, with my eyes closed and doing lots of trying! Our bodies do know the way. Here's to not doing what we are "supposed" to do...!