anxiety 101: meditation fail
This is the second post in the Anxiety 101 series. If you’re into it, check out post #1: Anxiety 101: It Follows.
Let's begin our short meditation for stress relief.
Oh, let's.
This short meditation practice will help you feel centered, powerful, and peaceful.
I'm sure it will.
Position your body comfortably, either sitting in a chair or lying down on the bed, a couch, or the floor.
Okay, I'm sitting in a chair. Am I comfortable?
(Wiggles around a little)
Check.
But!
Am I AS comfortable AS POSSIBLE? This chair is from IKEA, via Craigslist. It's the definition of "fine." It's not made of barbed wire and rusty swords and poison oak or anything--
(Picture of Game of Thrones stabby chair appears unbidden)
(Oh my God I hated Theon Greyjoy so fucking much)
(Focus, Katie.)
-- but I mean, I could definitely be more comfortable in a padded hammock under a weighted blanket, swaying gently in the cool autumn breeze next to a crackling campfire, not that I have any of those things at my disposal--
Allow the earth to hold your body, and start to take some deep breaths. Fill up your belly and chest, and release the air in a big, deep exhale.
This chair is fucking up my meditation. I’m like, preoccupied with the physical world here.
Fuck it, I'm going floor.
(Throws self to floor, takes several rapid breaths in order to "catch up" with the meditation guide.)
Okay. This is better. This was the right move.
I should always ignore my first instincts; picking the checkout line at the grocery store taught me that.
Huh! I wonder where Kimberly went. I hope she's okay.
I bet she's okay.
I wonder if Kimberly really liked me or if she was just great at customer service.
I bet she liked me.
Okay, now that we've settled Kimberly is both okay and liked me, let's get back to this breathing thing!
(Inhales.
Puts hands on belly.
Remembers the meditation lady said to keep body relaxed.
Puts hands back on ground, palms-down.
That feels weird.
Flips palms up.
That feels weird too.
What do I normally do with my hands when I'm lying on the ground?
I feel like I should be holding something.
Maybe I should hold a cigarette like a film star in her first talkie.
Say, dewdroppers, what's a bird got to do in this gin joint to get a light? Whistle?
"Applesauce" used to be a mild expletive. Like fiddlesticks.
Save that one for the Christmas parties, mama.
Will there be Christmas parties this year?
Is your life small now?
You should throw a Christmas party.
Will anyone come?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR BRAIN.)
Aaaaaand invite another breath in. Try to make your belly round and full. Lift your chest. Feel the air filling up your entire body.
(Takes another deep breath)
Oh God.
(Takes another, slightly less deep breath, because, you know, panicking)
Oh no.
I can't take a deep breath.
My lungs are broken.
HERE COMES THE NIGHT.
TELL MY SONS I DIED FROM COMPLICATIONS DUE TO MEDITATION.
TELL THEM TO FIND KIMBERLY FOR SHE KNEW AND LOVED ME WELL.
I'M BREATHING LIKE AN AMERICAN IDOL CONTESTANT HERE. I'M ALL SHOULDERS, BABY--
Now allow the breath to settle and to find its own natural rhythm. You do not need to fix your breath. Allow the breath breathe itself.
-- AND MY SHIT IS PITCHY. It's PITCHY!
Wait remember Randy Jackson?
Me neither.
LOL good one Katie.
Hold on is it punching down if I'm Katie Anthony and he's Randy Jackson?
Wait am I breathing?
Hey look at that I'm still breathing!
That was funny the way I was like bury me ‘neath the old oak tree back there.
I wonder if I think I’m dying too much.
I mean, we’re all dying.
Wait, but I’m not DYING-dying.
… Right?
GOD DAMN IT Katie I told you not to watch Stepmom last weekend.
Let the breath breathe itself.
Let the breath breathe itself.
Let the breath breathe itself.
Breathe is a weird word.
Breeeeeeathe.
Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--
Notice how the body as you breathe: the chest expands and releases. The belly fills and empties. Try to let go of any ideas about how you think it ought to be. There is no right. There is no wrong.
Point of order: let go of how it ought to be, HOWEVER, the chest should definitely be expanding and releasing and the belly filling and emptying, right?
I BEG YOUR PARDON but this feels like gaslighting. "There is only one right way to breathe, but don't judge whatever way you're breathing." Is this gaslighting? Am I overreacting? Did I charge my laptop? When is Devon's birthday? I need a light bulb. I was so lonely as a child.
(Image of 10-year-old Katie sitting alone, reading, at a large table during a class pizza party.
The rest of the class sat at the other large table.
Oh for fuck's sake, when is that going to stop being a thing?
When are you going to grow up?
When are you going to learn how to talk to yourself with compassion?
Did I take my vitamins?)
Wait what did she just say?
Now imagine a wave flowing up the beach, turning, and flowing back out to sea again. Notice how the ebb and flow of the ocean has a rhythm like your breath... Find an image that helps you see your own breath, ebbing and flowing, rising and falling, opening and closing…
Oh that's a good idea. Find an image. I'm good at imagery. My head itches. Is it lice. I don’t have lice. I have children in elementary school. I definitely have lice. I’m doing lice imagery now.
OKAY, BREATHE. IMAGINE BREATHING.
I don't like the wave image. It reminds me of the time I came to the edge of the reef and the water got cold, and I looked out into the black endless void that didn't care if I lived or died in its body and--
NOPE.
(Remember Gravity?)
NOPE.
(Remember when you wrote one time that death, like birth, is an unbreakable wall. The wall of birth lies behind you but the wall of death lies ahead? Remember when you wrote that? Because you wrote that.)
COME BACK TO THE LIGHT.
An image that moves like breath.
A HAPPY image that moves like breath.
Um, a butterfly wing opening and closing? Too fast. Too fluttery. Moths in the fireplace in the house I grew up in, I saw them flutter across the ceiling at night, their shadows huge and alien--
KATIE.
HONESTLY.
WHAT IS BROKEN IN YOUR BRAIN.
YOU CAN'T FIND A SINGLE PLEASANT BREATH-BASED NATURE IMAGE WITHOUT TURNING IT INTO CHILDHOOD NIGHTMARE FODDER AND—
As you inhale, imagine white light pouring into your body. It's filling up every corner of your body with pure, white light.
(Inhale)
Oh! Oh oh oh! I see it! I feel it! Oh I like this image, the white light image.
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh—
WAIT.
When the white light flows over my chest, the spaces between my ribs remain dark, untouched by the light. MY RIB GAPS ARE THE ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD. It’s a metaphor. For rib cage cancer.
Or secrets.
PS that was so fucked up the way they had white voice actors for the Lion King dialogue and black singers for the musical numbers. Like, what does that say about what we value about each other?
If you notice the body or the mind tensing up around your experience, notice it, and then slowly, gently, let go again. Do this as many times as you need to, with a loving, gentle acceptance.
Loving, gentle acceptance.
Loving, gentle acceptance.
With love, I say to you, Katie, you are terrible at this.
Gently, Katie, please accept that you suck and you're weird and your brain is weird and it wants everything to be scary and whoooooooooo boy, okay, here we go, kind gentle awareness.
The rug smells like dust.
I should have stayed in the chair.
We should get new bedside tables. I wonder if there are rats in the walls. I should tuck my pants into my socks tonight while I sleep. IF I SLEEP.
I wonder if my kids are going to be drug addicts.
APPLESAUCE! Calm down and focus, woman!
I should write something about things people say that never fucking work,
like "calm down"
and "focus, woman"
and "trust me"
and "kids get your shoes on"
and "let's stick to the budget this year."
Also, "let's meditate for stress relief."
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