In past years, I've done 7 days of meditation, then 14, then 21. Each time, I am grateful I took the time for this practice... and then I go back to intermittent practice. I'm still trying to figure out why.
This year, I noticed that a short period of meditation was often a welcome reset in the middle of my afternoon. However, I also noticed that meditation was extremely difficult when I was anxious. I've certainly been anxious more often in the last year+ than ever before in my life, so these anxious meditation sessions were also more often, even in that 21-day window.
In most sessions, I would find a spot outside, in the sun if possible, and select either the daily or motivation options on Headspace. I built from 5 minutes to 20. On the best days, my busy mind would take a break to notice the wind on my skin, the birds chirping, how my body felt that day, my breath, the warmth of the sun. It felt like a nap without the nap hangover.
But on the days where I was anxious, I couldn't sit still. I'd often squirm, open my eyes, and think about how long it had been, wonder when it would be over. I sat through it each time, but it was really uncomfortable to sit with myself when experiencing anxiety.
I suppose these different reactions to the practice make sense. It also makes sense that the more often I meditate, the less often I experience anxiety.
I've experienced severe depression on and off for over 20 years now. It's to the point that I can quickly recognize the symptoms and take action for a quick recovery. It might take a day or two, but I am pretty adept at managing my depression, even during tough times.
Anxiety is new. I am new to managing it.
I developed anxiety during my PhD program. The intensity of my studies were certainly a factor, as was the distance from my family, but really, I'm confident my anxiety developed from comorbidity with depression and the extreme financial stress I faced while in my program (stress that returned this year when I unexpectedly lost my job). When I entered my program, financially, I was enticed by the reduction in tuition due to my circumstances, the communication that there would be additional graduate assistantship opportunities (even though I didn't have one when entering), and the promise that there were ample opportunities for scholarships based on merit. I'm a great student and was coming from a professional position where I grew and was valued for 6 years. I was confident I could secure scholarships and an assistantship if I worked it the same way I worked at many things I cared about (including this list).
Then, after many rejections and lack of consideration, even for part-time on-campus jobs, I learned that the one graduate assistantship I was a good fit for was not going to be vacated soon, and when it was, there was intense competition for it because there was only one related to administrative higher ed, even though my program had a focus in higher ed. Because there was so much competition for it, they split it into a few positions, none of which provided the recipients with enough compensation--and I was not even considered.
Around the same time, I learned all of the scholarships went to the graduate assistants. The attitude seemed to be that to recruit and keep the best students, the program had to give as much funding to a few students, rather than spreading it around and losing the interest of their top recruits.
Though I applied for every scholarship for which I met the criteria, I believe I got 2 merit scholarships, worth 2 credits each, during my 3.75 years there.
I worked in the campus recreation department for my first 2 years, and besides my coworkers who became friends, it was miserable. I felt undervalued daily and disrespected regularly. Once, the director asked me, "Do you think your staff even respects you?" This was about a staff of 8 lifeguard/swim instructors who made minimum wage (despite 2 pricy, time-consuming certifications) and spent 8 hours/day in Southern California summer sun. Honestly, the staff were great. Not "great despite the circumstances." Just great. They made my job easy because they were so competent and took their jobs seriously.
To leave that job, I had to take a part-time job as a private swim instructor, something I swore I would never do again. For that job, I taught in the Southern California summer afternoon sun for 5 hours, twice a week with no breaks.
I also picked up a part-time catering gig, which provided hourly pay, tips (sometimes), and meals (sometimes). It also provided me an excuse to not go out on the weekends, which I couldn't afford.
At the same time as these jobs, I was trying to find a foothold to teach. I learned of an unpaid teaching opportunity in a first-year leadership course. Along with that opportunity, a group of us met regularly to talk about our teaching practice. With these opportunities, my teaching degree, and 4+ years of experience teaching at the college level, I figured I'd prove myself and find a few courses to teach for pay.
But no. While those opportunities were sold as a way to get experience and exposure, they were really an opportunity for the department to have unpaid, qualified labor. I know some folx who ran that program could be reading this, but to anyone who relies on unpaid labor: experience is not pay. Exposure is not pay. Experience and exposure do not pay the bills.
I was asked to teach the same leadership course a second time and refused to do so without pay. They found a way to give me 2 credits (instead of actual pay).
Note: The 10-16 students in each section of the class were paying full tuition.
I also started "working" as a teaching assistant for some of my favorite professors. I did so only after they announced we could get 2 credits in return for our labor. Still no pay, so still no way to pay my bills or feed myself, but at least my student loans would be a tiny bit smaller when I graduated.
Then, I managed to find a part-time position at another campus. I loved that job. Then I hated it for a couple months due to some politics. And then once my supervisor and I found we were both victims of those politics, I had the best time. Of my many, many full- and part-time jobs, that's top 2.
In addition, I was ASKED to teach in one of their programs (FOR ADEQUATE PAY) and could even add additional classes once the first one went so well.
I also picked up a job where I occasionally worked team building events around the city. It paid decently and was not only low stress but actually fun.
While I worked 1-4 jobs at a time, I still could not make ends meet. Between the high cost of living in the city and fees not covered by student loans, I struggled to make ends meet. Add on top of that the pressure to attend conferences (meaning $600+ registration fees, hotels, travel, and conference attire) to remain relevant in the field caused me to accrue credit card debt on top of my student loan debt. (One conference, EVERY day, I waited to eat until I could find a social with free food because I couldn't afford the options at the site.)
So sometime during my 4 years there, I developed anxiety. Each time a notification from my bank app notification, my heart rate would increase, and I'd go somewhere private to see what the notification was. If it was an overdraft, I cried and wondered how I would eat until my next paycheck.
I only lost weight due to stress and lack of eating until my final few months and at conferences, when I just didn't eat regularly. Most cheap options for food are high calorie but low in nutritious value, so I ate high calorie, high fat foods, rarely getting fresh fruits and vegetables. (I recognize that in many low-SES areas and food deserts, this is how individuals and families survive. My struggle was short-term compared to what so many people go through.)
Often, my amazing roommate would notice when I wasn't eating and would cook "extra" and offer it to me. I'm so grateful for him.
I also felt so ashamed and embarrassed. I watched my classmates/friends going out to eat, going on vacations, and working one job, not 4. They were doing PhD-level research, and I was slinging sliders for wealthy people in their homes. They were complaining about their last dental visit when I was without health insurance and hadn't seen a doctor, let alone a dentist, in years.
I started taking some of my less relevant/interesting courses less seriously, focusing on my research, finding a job, and spending time doing things and with people who made me feel loved and supported. I'm sure there were professors or classmates who thought I was being lazy, and I felt guilty, but I just didn't have the energy for everything.
I managed to be the first in my cohort to defend my dissertation. I felt others' envy, jealousy, and frustration that I was done and they were not, as if I were some kind of brilliant mind who go through the program with ease. I "joked" and told them I just couldn't afford to not finish. But I really couldn't. Yes, I am good at independent work and am secretly very organized, but in this reality, I needed to get done, so I could find a job and... eat, buy health insurance, and take a fucking break.
So I did not do a good job managing my anxiety at the time. I was overwhelmed and couldn't afford to seek help (again, no insurance).
I have learned that when I feel the symptoms I need to (1) rest, (2) eat, and (3), if at all possible, get some physical activity, even just a walk. It's also incredibly helpful for me to rest my brain, to do really mindless things alone, like watch The Hunger Games for the 254th time or play the Sims. If I can find the energy, a walk or a bike ride also helps.
I also feel guilty when I give myself that break and feel anxious about the work that is piling up while I am trying to get back into the right head space to do that work.
So meditation has been so so so good as a practice to maintain my mental health. It does not seem to work for me when I am not feeling healthy. My brain starts working overtime in those moments that are supposed to be quiet. I think this is why I can't seem to make meditation a daily practice, even though I see it as incredibly valuable.
I do plan to keep adding an increased version of this goal every year. It also doesn't seem to be damaging, so maybe I can keep at it and find a strategy that works for me. In the meantime, I'll stick to intermittent meditation and highly recommend Headspace for experienced and novice practitioners.
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