How meditation helped me confront my truths

Suffering has a way of motivating us towards uncommon remedies. Meditation seemed worth trying—what did I have to lose in my anguished state?

Settling reluctantly on the floor in lotus position, eyes closed to confront my swirling thoughts—it wasn’t an activity I enjoyed at first. I relied on the guiding voices in meditation apps to help steer my fitful sessions.

Initially, nothing positive happened. If anything, my sleep worsened into sweat-drenched 3am wakings. I found running a better emotional release; tears flowed whenever I jogged or when I drove out of my small Swiss mountain valley, perhaps triggered by leaving its beloved safety.

My therapist cautioned against using exercise as an addictive crutch. “It would help if you felt your anger over his behavior,” she prodded. She aimed to help me grieve a relationship riddled with neglect, criticism, and manipulation.

But I remained trapped behind a glossy wall of denial.

My breakthrough arrived unexpectedly. While meditating after an angry walk, I chose silence over the phone apps, wanting to vent my disappointment directly to god instead. As tears poured down my cheeks, I realized I’d accessed deep grief without fleeing or technology’s distraction.

The emotional release felt euphoric, even cathartic. Lost in the moment, I must’ve resembled a mad mystic! I acknowledged this breakthrough to my therapist, owning my gradual acceptance of difficult truths after years spent shielding myself behind denial.

"Denial protects us from reality that could overwhelm all at once,” she explained. “A person could go mad if forced to see the truth too soon.”

Her words resonated, underlining for me the importance of confronting one’s reality at one’s own pace.

While this triumph helped my insomnia, lingering anxieties still plagued me. But with time, supportive friends, my therapist, daily rituals, piano practice, and 12-step groups kept me anchored amidst the storms and my remote Swiss Alps isolation.