Meditation has taught me to practice self-compassion, to let go of rigid expectations, and to embrace the present
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I’m not here to preach about how you should meditate or claim to be an expert on the subject. I just want to share my experiences with meditation to help organize the discoveries I’ve made during my sessions and position them in a way that I can access these tools in my everyday life.
Recently, I began a new routine where I incorporate a ten-minute meditation in the morning after my run and a five-minute cooldown meditation right before bed. This practice has been part of my routine for two weeks now, and I plan to continue it because it has enhanced my overall contentment with life. Although I’ve always tried to incorporate meditation, I struggled to maintain it consistently, often dropping it because I didn’t trust the practice — or myself.
Part of the problem was my mindset. I felt the need to control everything to feel at ease, equating control with willpower. I believed that meditation — and focus — required willpower, thinking that to concentrate meant I had to be in control. However, during my meditation practice over these two weeks, I’ve learned that focus is actually the opposite of control; it’s about trust. I realized that this shift from control to trust is essential for both my meditation and my life.
I logically understood this concept, but I struggled to trust myself. In previous moments of trust, I wasn’t fully aware of the circumstances that allowed me to access it. Perhaps a compliment in the morning boosted my confidence, or winning a fight the night before left me riding a wave of elation. Recently, I’ve realized that starting my day with a positive tone helps me maintain confidence and trust throughout the day. As a result, I now incorporate a pre-meditation ritual to help me enter the right mindset for a productive session.
I usually wake up around 5:15 a.m., warm up outside, and run two miles, not timing myself but using it as a shakeout. This early morning workout helps me channel the fatigue and endorphins from physical activity to push myself into the present. Afterward, I do a ten-minute guided meditation. What I once found difficult and annoying now feels effortless and enjoyable. During these moments, I can separate myself from my feelings and thoughts, observing them as they pass by. While I sometimes engage with them out of habit, I no longer try to use willpower to shut them out. Instead, I gently remind myself that it’s normal to engage with these thoughts and feelings, allowing them to float away.
I’m increasingly accepting that the thoughts and feelings I often label as negative are simply that — thoughts and feelings. It’s as if I’m stepping back to observe them from a third-person perspective. Through this, I’ve come to a profound realization: I am not my thoughts and feelings. Although I’ve heard this many times, from therapists and friends, I never truly understood its significance. Logically, it made sense, but practically, I had no idea what it meant. Now, having experienced it firsthand, I finally understand.
Thoughts and feelings are temporary, but the more we engage with them, the more they become part of us. When we repeatedly engage with the same types of thoughts and feelings, we internalize them, creating habitual patterns: they come up more often and we forget that we don’t have to engage with them. Before we know it, we identify with those thoughts and feelings, believing they are who we are.
For instance, I have often engaged with feelings of anxiety and the thoughts that accompany them, leading me to identify as an anxious person. This identification with anxiety has become part of my self-perception, resulting in the belief that “I am anxious.” However, a more constructive and mindful approach is to say, “I am feeling anxious.” Through meditation, I’ve gradually sharpened my presence of mind and emotional awareness. Now, in everyday life, when these habitual thoughts and feelings arise, I’m often aware enough to step back — just as I do during meditation — and let them go, watching them float away. I find myself treating myself with more compassion and gentleness, which allows me to enjoy the present moment more.
One specific area where meditation has helped me is in my boxing practice. Before these past two weeks, I was coming back from a fracture, and I felt a pressing need to return to my previous form as quickly as possible. This urgency made boxing less enjoyable, and I struggled to find direction in my training, all while feeling the weight of the pressure to perform. This pressure took a toll on me, making everything related to boxing feel exhausting, as it was intertwined with anxiety. However, I’ve noticed a shift; I’m now able to enjoy boxing more. While there are still moments — whether during sparring or training — when I hear that nagging thought of “I might not be able to do this,” I no longer fight it as I used to. Instead, I simply observe it as it passes by. The more I watch these thoughts float away, the less I notice them, and the less I notice them, the less they seem to pass by.
These practices of meditation have also done wonders for me in my professional life. I’ve found that I enjoy my time with my fourth graders more and have been having a lot of fun teaching them. When something happens in the classroom, I’m able to roll with it. For instance, when my students become really talkative, instead of trying to exert full control over the situation, I take a step back and give myself space to think. I no longer get upset or yell. Instead, I allow the students to make their own decisions, easing the weight off my shoulders and fostering their independence. If they choose to waste their time, I let them know that they’ll lose some of their own time as a consequence.
Slowly but surely, because of my patience and ability to let go of intrusive thoughts and emotions, the classroom seems to slow down. This creates an environment where I can make the necessary adjustments to help my students make better choices. When I’m calm and present, they tend to mirror that state, and together, we learn and grow.
I’ve come to realize that my students are not merely individuals to be managed; they are humans just like myself. This shift in perspective has allowed me to see myself as a learner alongside them. When I approach teaching with the understanding that we are all navigating this journey together, it fosters a sense of collaboration rather than hierarchy. This mutual respect creates a more engaging and dynamic classroom environment, where we can all learn from each other’s experiences and insights.
Since I’m no longer forcing myself to be present, I find that I am present more often. I trust that the present is where I belong. Occasionally, things may pull me out of that moment, but unlike before — when I would engage with and cling to those thoughts and feelings — I now find myself able to laugh and let go.
I used to be scared of these very thoughts and feelings, which led me to label them as negative. Whenever they arose, I engaged with them, blaming myself for having such thoughts and feelings, when in reality, everyone experiences them. My fear compounded the problem, creating a clear pathway for me to attach to those feelings. Each time I tried to use fear to block that pathway, I only widened it.
Now, I allow myself to explore that pathway if I choose, but I also gently remind myself that another trail leads to the unfamiliar destination of the present. While I still sometimes wander down the path of fear, I increasingly find myself navigating the new path of trust. Occasionally, I catch myself halfway down the road of fear, but I can climb back and trust my way to the present. By acknowledging my feelings rather than labeling them as negative, I’m creating space for growth. I’m learning that it’s okay to feel anxious; it’s part of being human.
Meditation has taught me to practice self-compassion, to let go of rigid expectations, and to embrace the present. These lessons extend beyond my meditation into all areas of my life. I recognize that I still have much to learn about myself and the world through meditation. However, a significant weight has been lifted from my shoulders. There is no rush; there is no pressure. As long as I trust myself and everything around me, the present will trust me back.
How Meditation Has Impacted My Life was originally published in Invisible Illness on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.