Meditation was recommended to me by my psychiatrist after a two-year long battle with depression. When I say two years, I don’t mean I felt depressed on and off for two years. I mean, I was essentially agoraphobic for two years. 

When I sat down in my first meditation class, I had no idea what I was doing. I had previously used meditation apps, but my doctor recommended going to a studio to learn about the practices, try new things and build a community. I had not been around very many people for a long time, so I was extremely uncomfortable. I sat in the back of the class, quietly in the corner, and followed the guidance of the teacher. 

A big part of my depression involved not being able to sit with myself; I avoided the thoughts in my head as much as possible and did whatever I could to disassociate. As I mediated, I noticed I was resonating with what was being said. I could feel my shoulders relax, my mind takes a pause, and for the first time in years, I was not afraid to be with myself. My eyes started to well with tears and streamed down my face; a release of something from deep within. I sat for 45 minutes in a puddle of my tears, and when I stood up at the end, I felt as though years of pain lifted.

To be truthful, the benefits of the practice didn’t last long. A few hours back into real life, I begin to notice how my mind affected me, and how external factors really do bog you down. So, I went again the next day. And again, the next day. And again, the next day. And I just kept going. I sometimes attended 3-4 classes in one day. With this consistency, the benefits were palpable.

I was finally excited to leave the house. I was excited to DO something. I was excited. Period. I was meeting people. I was talking to people and new people!!! And noticed that the studio was filled with others just like me; with pain, illness, loss, anxiety, depression, and trauma. I found community in a way I never imagined.

I was able to see that I was not alone.

The thing about depression or any other internal struggle; whether it be mental illness, trauma or grief, is that it feels as though no one in the world can possibly understand. And simply, most people do not because you are unable to see it on the outside. I have found that if someone can’t see something physically wrong, they take your illness or pain much less seriously. 

It is liberating when you realize you are not alone; when you are able to connect with those who believe you, who understand you, and who simply want to support you in your healing journey. I promise I am one of those people. When working with me, you will be heard, you will be seen, and you will be supported.