I’ve never been good at sitting still.
Even in Kindergarten, quiet time on the carpet felt like a cruel joke. Now, as an adult with a mild social media addiction, my attention span is worse than ever. I can barely get through an episode of TV without checking my phone, let alone meditate in complete silence.
I love self-care as much as the next person, but the whole “clear your mind” thing has always seemed unattainable. My brain is a constant loop of grocery lists, half-finished texts, and intrusive thoughts about the embarrassing thing I said in my seminar discussion last week.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the hype surrounding meditation. Celebrities swear by it, therapists recommend it, and apparently, even science backs it up.
So, in the name of personal growth—and possibly delusion—I committed to daily meditation for one whole week. Maybe it’s my White Lotus season three fever talking, or maybe my frontal lobe is finally developing, but I had a sneaky feeling this challenge might just unlock my inner zen.
Day one
To begin my journey into ultimate peace, I picked the first five-minute guided meditation I could find on Spotify, thinking it would be a breeze. I put my headphones on noise-canceling mode, turned up the volume, sat cross-legged on my bed, and placed my hands face-up on my knees.
Almost immediately, I felt the urge to move—scratch my nose, adjust my hair, anything to avoid sitting still. My mind wandered wildly, anxiously wondering whether I’d open my eyes up to a burglar sneaking around my room, or my housemates madly putting out a fire.
The more I tried to focus, the more my thoughts fought back. After five minutes of discomfort and agitation, I made it through, and that felt like a small win.
It’s safe to say, zen was not found on day one.
Day two
Determined to redeem myself from the previous day’s flop, I queued up another Spotify-suggested guided meditation—this time, a grueling 10 minutes long. And while it may sound dramatic, let me tell you—this was pure torture. You know what’s worse than sitting still for five minutes? Sitting still for 10.
But, against all odds, and my better judgment, I powered through. No casualties, no newfound enlightenment, just me, fidgeting my way through day two, still waiting for the promised calm to kick in.
Day three
Three days in, I still wasn’t great at shutting off my thoughts, but I did start noticing them. Instead of spiraling, I’d acknowledge a distracting thought, then let it go. It felt oddly freeing. Perhaps I was finally turning a corner.
Day four
For a challenge based on stillness, meditation made me aware of just how restless I am. For day four’s session, I kept wanting to reach for my phone and do literally anything other than sit with my thoughts. But I pushed through. A few minutes of discomfort was still better than 15 minutes lost to doom-scrolling.
Day five
Day five proved challenging, thanks to a perfect storm of distractions. My inbox was overflowing, my group project chat was chaotic, and my brain decided to fixate on how behind I was on an impending assignment. But in the spirit of commitment, I begrudgingly carved out a whopping 20 minutes for meditation. Unfortunately, I felt no revelations or sudden enlightenment—just me, mildly annoyed and still waiting for the magic to happen.
Day six
Okay, I wouldn’t say I aligned my chakras or anything, but finally, something clicked. I tried my longest session yet, 30 minutes, and for the first time, I felt genuinely calm. My intrusive thoughts and impatience stayed at bay, and I experienced a surprising sense of peace. Was this finally zen? Maybe.
Day seven
By the end of the week, I wasn’t transformed into a yogi, but I did feel a shift. Meditation didn’t erase my overactive thoughts, but it helped me see them differently. And honestly, that’s pretty zen.
Will I keep up with meditation every day? Probably not. But will I reach for it when I need a mental reset? Absolutely. Turns out, finding a little peace doesn’t mean silencing my thoughts—it just means learning to sit with them.
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