In my late twenties, I embarked on a course that promised to unlock the power of the mind for manifesting dreams. With a decade of relentless positivity behind me, I was all in. I recited uplifting affirmations like a mantra, encouraged everyone around me to “breathe deep,” and doused myself in essential oils that promised eternal happiness.
One of the course assignments required me to meditate for an hour every day. As a mother now, I often wish I could advise my younger self against squandering an entire hour with my eyes shut, pretending to meditate while missing out on the world. Yet, the allure of that short-lived meditation high kept me hooked.
I was so determined to find my zen that if someone had questioned my motives, it might have sent me spiraling into self-doubt. On the surface, I appeared to be a picture of health and tranquility, but beneath that facade lay a wounded child, still grappling with feelings of inadequacy. My childhood was marred by trauma, and my seemingly endless positivity was merely a band-aid over deep, unresolved wounds.
However, this relentless pursuit of good vibes came with a price. It left no room for anger or sadness, so when those emotions inevitably surfaced, I reacted in extreme ways. I’d find myself in heated arguments, screaming and crying, only to retreat into self-harm afterward. My obsession with maintaining a certain appearance in my creative career fueled a constant battle against myself.
Meditation, which I hoped would help alleviate my pain, did the opposite. It allowed me to function superficially, but the cracks began to show when my first marriage ended. That unraveling forced me to confront the truth about myself.
I quickly remarried and became a mother, but the over-optimistic strategies I relied on crumbled after the birth of my daughter. Postpartum challenges hit me hard, and panic attacks began to surface as I struggled with the transition into motherhood. Initially, I thought I was mourning my pre-parenthood self, but therapy revealed a more profound issue: I had been living with complex PTSD, unbeknownst to me.
This diagnosis was a revelation. My endless optimism had masked deeper issues of perfectionism and a need for approval, born from a desire to avoid pain. While I projected an image of happiness, I was fighting an internal battle that few could see.
No amount of meditation could shield me from my truth. Once I recognized that my past traumas were influencing my life, I began to listen to the parts of myself I had long ignored. Motherhood became a powerful catalyst for change, forcing me to confront my unresolved issues.
Recently, I took a brave step and sought help in an emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation. My panic attacks escalated into debilitating muscle spasms that I could no longer endure. After an initial hesitancy, I decided to start medication. Though I had concerns about the stigma surrounding it, I walked away with a prescription for antidepressants, and they have truly been life-changing.
Since beginning medication, my PTSD symptoms have significantly decreased. I no longer fantasize about disappearing; instead, I’m embracing life with authenticity and vulnerability.
It may seem like I’m criticizing meditation, but that’s not my intention. I believe it served its purpose for a time, helping me survive until it no longer sufficed. While meditation works wonders for many, it did not address the deeper emotional turmoil I was experiencing. I still view it as a valuable tool, but not as the sole solution for trauma recovery.
Through therapy and medication, I’ve realized I was skipping essential steps on my journey to wholeness. The peace I sought couldn’t be achieved merely by zoning out in silence; I needed to confront the chaos within first. I’ve learned that I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not.
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Summary
In this candid reflection, Jenna Reed shares her experience of transitioning from meditation to medication as a means of healing from complex PTSD. After years of masking her pain with relentless positivity, she confronts her past traumas and finds that medication, combined with therapy, has enabled her to reclaim her life and embrace authenticity.