Over the years, I have worked closely with many meditation practitioners and Buddhist writers, some of whom have been clients, and my own practice has grown alongside those relationships. Being surrounded by people with such deep experience can be inspiring, but it can also quietly raise the level of where you think you should have the ability to deal with life’s difficulties.
One of the most humbling moments for me came during a trip to the emergency room related to complications of my autoimmune disease. I was in unbearable pain when a close friend, who also practiced meditation for a long time, jokingly asked, “Are you able to overcome your pain?”
We both laughed. The joke was made because another friend of mine, therapist and meditation teacher Dr. Christiane Wolf, is a colleague and former client who has written about dealing with chronic pain through mindfulness in her book. overcome your pain.
I remember once telling her, almost defensively, that I meditated every day. I had a cool, competitive edge about it. I didn’t want to miss a single day, even in the hospital. Missing even a day felt like failure.
I remember once telling her, almost defensively, that I meditated every day. I had a cool, competitive edge about it. I didn’t want to miss a single day, even in the hospital. Missing even a day felt like failure. Looking back, this belief seems a bit ridiculous, but at the time it had real significance.
But at that moment, I could not control my pain.
My response was immediate: “No. I’m not able to. I need painkillers.”
As I said, a small part of me was feeling inadequate. I felt cheated. If I’ve spent years hanging around mindfulness practitioners and teachings on working skillfully with pain, shouldn’t I be better at this?
Health challenges have given me many such moments, moments when I questioned my ability to overcome hardship the way I believed I should.
What I didn’t understand at the time was that practice doesn’t always appear at the exact moment of crisis. Sometimes this shows in how we grow from the experience afterward.
Christian later offered a perspective that made some changes for me.
“Angela,” she said, “if you’re not meditating while you’re hospitalized, that doesn’t make you a failure. Your practice to date has prepared you to navigate these moments. That’s what practice is for.”
“Angela,” she said, “if you’re not meditating while you’re hospitalized, that doesn’t make you a failure. Your practice to date has prepared you to navigate these moments. That’s what practice is for.”
It was a simple reminder, but an important one. I realized how quickly I had turned a moment of human insecurity into a judgment about whether or not I was doing the exercises “good enough.”
Around the same time, I was helping a menopause telehealth company develop educational materials and share mindfulness practices for women going through perimenopause and menopause. I had no trouble guiding others through meditation or creating resources that would help people access the practice.
Yet personally, I sometimes struggle to apply that same consistency to my life.
That tension, between helping others access mindfulness and questioning my own ability to embody it, was incredibly revealing. It showed me how quickly self-judgment can come, and how easily I hold myself to impossible standards. More importantly, it helped me see where I still needed work, on and off the cushion.
naming the experience
As the months passed, I became more curious about what might be happening beneath the surface of my experience. I understood the stress and anxiety associated with my health challenges. They have been a part of my life for years. But this seemed even deeper.
I began to question my beliefs about how I should deal with difficulty. Obviously, I had internalized this idea of what it should look and feel like, especially for someone who has had as much conscious experience as I have. After working in this field for over 15 years, I had unconsciously decided that I shouldn’t struggle at all.
I began to question my beliefs about how I should deal with difficulty. Obviously, I had internalized this idea of what it should look and feel like, especially for someone who has had as much conscious experience as I have. After working in this field for over 15 years, I had unconsciously decided that I shouldn’t struggle at all.
Psychologists have a term for similar patterns in professional life. Deceptive event, first described Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes In 1978, refers to the persistent feeling that we are falling short of the role we should be playing, even though there is ample evidence that we are there.
While this concept is often discussed in career settings, a similar dynamic can arise in reflective practice.
Experienced doctors are still human. We can be overwhelmed by everyday stressors just like anyone else, and often, the brain makes quick assessments of that experience. I think so, If you were truly a mindfulness practitioner, you wouldn’t be feeling this way.
In those moments, the mind takes a very human experience and presents it as failure. You are a fraud.
What makes it so challenging is that we start looking for evidence to support that belief, convincing ourselves that we are failing at something we never set out to accomplish.
What makes it so challenging is that we start looking for evidence to support that belief, convincing ourselves that we are failing at something we never set out to accomplish.
What about stress?
To be alive in these times is to experience constant level of stress. It doesn’t take much to turn on the news, scroll through headlines, or navigate daily responsibilities, to feel the weight of political unrest, global uncertainty, financial pressures, social division, and personal stress.
The nervous system absorbs it all.
So how do we control ourselves amidst this? And what does mindfulness have to do with imposter syndrome?
Research into stress physiology Shows that when the brain senses threat, the body goes into survival mode. Heart rate increases, breathing changes and attention decreases toward potential danger.
In these states of activation, it can be very difficult to access the awareness we have worked so hard to develop. This can cause a confusing internal signal: If I have these tools, why can’t I use them right now?
For mindfulness practitioners, this can easily be misinterpreted as a failure of the practice.
But the nervous system does not deteriorate at these moments. It is responding exactly as it was designed.
This misunderstanding is where self-doubt can quietly take over.
see clearly
One of psychiatrist Carl Jung’s most widely cited insights is, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will dictate your life and you will call it fate.”
As mindfulness practice deepens, awareness expands. We become more attuned to our internal landscape, our thoughts, feelings and reactions. As a result, we often begin to notice reactivity more clearly than before. What may feel like regression may actually be an increase in awareness.
As mindfulness practice deepens, awareness expands. We become more attuned to our internal landscape, our thoughts, feelings and reactions.
As a result, we often begin to notice reactivity more clearly than before.
What may feel like regression may actually be an increase in awareness.
You may find yourself becoming aroused in situations where, in the past, you might have reacted automatically without even realizing it. Now, there is a pause. A recognition. A moment to see what’s going on.
That change can feel uncomfortable, not because something is going wrong, but because something is being exposed.
Research Mindfulness practice is suggested to strengthen meta-awareness, the ability to observe our own mental and emotional states.
The reactions themselves may not be new.
What is new is our ability to see them.
Expectations and shame are here!
Most of us carry an internal narrative that silently displays expectations in our daily lives. In mindfulness practice, this often takes the form of how we should feel when we sit.
Calm. Patient. Synoptic. Thankful.
We measure success by the presence of these states, while ignoring the full range of human emotions, fear, anger, grief, uncertainty, which are equally part of our experience.
We measure success by the presence of these states, while ignoring the full range of human emotions, fear, anger, grief, uncertainty, which are equally part of our experience.
When our lived reality does not match that internalized expectation, embarrassment can arise.
During the months leading up to menopause, I noticed that I was experiencing unfamiliar sensations in my body. Many of my devices seemed to be missing. I felt reactive, scared, and unsure of what was happening.
And the story that followed was harsh:
You should handle this better.
Who are you to guide others if you can’t manage it yourself?
Instead of just focusing on stress, I added another layer: self-judgment.
Sometimes, mindfulness concepts themselves can become a form of pressure. psychiatrist john wellwood This dynamic has been described as “spiritual bypassing”, using spiritual ideas to avoid or overcome difficult emotional realities.
In practice, this may appear in subtle ways, but the result is often the same. We begin to feel guilt or shame about what we are experiencing.
deal with irregular regulation
Our thoughts about mindfulness can sometimes work against us. If we believe that practice should make us calmer and less reactive all the time, we set ourselves up for disappointment.
Mindfulness is not about performing stillness.
Mindfulness is not about performing stillness.
As Allen Ginsberg once said, the task is simply to “pay attention to what you notice.”
When we develop awareness, we begin to notice our reactions as they arise. You may have noticed that you are becoming agitated in a conversation. You may pause instead of reacting immediately. You may even recognize later that you were overwhelmed.
These moments matter.
Mindfulness meets us where we are.
For this it is not necessary that we reach any particular state.
It tells us to approach whatever situation we’re in with a little more awareness, and when possible, with a little more kindness.
Research on Self-Compassion Suggests that responding to difficult emotions with mindfulness rather than criticism supports emotional resilience and regulation.
When we look at our experiences this way, the story of failure begins to soften.
Anyone who has spent time meditating knows that emotions will always arise. What changes is not the presence of the emotion, but our relationship with it.
Instead of asking, Why am I still reacting like this?
we can ask:
What is happening in the body right now?
What is this reaction trying to tell me?
These questions reopen the possibility of practice even in the midst of difficulty.
Anyone who has spent time meditating knows that emotions will always arise. What changes is not the presence of the emotion, but our relationship with it.
Moments of reactivity do not disqualify us from the practice.
They remind us why we practice. Awareness is not something we perfect. It’s something we return to again and again.
