Meditation Isn’t Always the Answer
How to know when to sit, and when to stand up and do something else
Meditation is paradoxical. On one hand, it can open doors — to self-understanding, to healing, to a more grounded experience of reality. On the other hand, it can be an escape hatch cleverly disguised as spiritual practice. It can become a way to avoid, to numb, to procrastinate. That’s why it matters to ask, What am I meditating for?
Becoming aware of our reasons for meditating — and getting brutally honest about them — is one of the most powerful things we can do. It’s what turns a passive practice into an intentional one. Without that clarity, meditation can easily slip into the realm of performance, obligation, or spiritual bypassing. It becomes just another tool of self-avoidance wrapped in a cloak of growth.
A mindfulness teacher I know once said, “Most of the questions I get from students are better suited for a therapist.” And I’ve seen this myself. People rarely come to ask about posture or breath. They come with heartbreak. Anxiety. The collapse of meaning. The pain of a relationship falling apart. And because meditation is now so widely available (and because the mindfulness industry loves a good promise) it’s easy to assume meditation will fix everything.
But here’s the hard truth: meditation is often not the solution.
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t meditate. It means that if you’re honest with yourself about what you’re seeking, you can better assess whether meditation is the right tool — or whether you’re trying to hammer a nail with a toothbrush.
Some people may push back against this and say, “Meditation isn’t about goals! It’s a pathless path.” But I’d argue: even the choice to sit down carries an intention. Maybe it’s peace. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s connection, healing, relief. We’re always aiming at something, even if that something is learning how to stop aiming.
So let’s unpack a few common motivations for meditating. The goal here isn’t to criticize. It’s to expand your awareness. To bring your full humanity into the conversation. To ask, Is meditation really what I need right now? And if not, then what else is calling me?
“Things are stressful at work so I’m going to meditate.”
Stress at work is a symptom. It’s like a car dashboard flashing red. You can cover the light with duct tape (a.k.a. meditate), but the engine still needs attention. Meditation might help you cope, but it probably won’t help you change anything.
So ask: what’s under the stress? Often it’s poor boundaries, perfectionism, over-responsibility, people-pleasing, or fear of being seen as “not enough.” Maybe you're replaying a silent loop that says, “If I stop hustling, I’ll be replaced.” Is that really true?
And sometimes, stress comes from unresolved interpersonal conflict — resentment, miscommunication, an ongoing power struggle. In that case, is meditation helping you regulate so you can respond well… or are you using it to avoid an uncomfortable conversation?
You might find more healing in journaling, coaching, talking to a friend, or simply learning to say “no” and mean it.
“I’m feeling anxious so I’m going to meditate.”
Sometimes this works. Sometimes it backfires.
If anxiety is coming from a dysregulated nervous system, meditation might soothe you — or it might amplify the discomfort. Sitting still with a storm inside isn’t always wise. It can retraumatize.
Ask yourself: What is this anxiety trying to tell me? Is it a call to speak up? To rest? To change direction? To face something scary and unfinished?
Sometimes anxiety is the voice of a boundary being crossed or an inner part needing reassurance. In that case, meditation could help you listen — but only if you’re willing to actually feel. Not just breathe it away.
If anxiety is recurring or chronic, isolation isn’t always the answer. Connection often regulates us better than solitude. Community support groups, trauma-informed therapy, or even a walk with someone who gets it might go further than a solo meditation ever could.
“I have a goal to meditate every morning, but I’m sleepy…”
What if your body’s wisdom is saying: Rest is the practice today.
We can get caught in the trap of self-discipline as self-worth. That if we don’t check off the habit tracker, we’ve failed. But forcing yourself into meditation when you’re exhausted can breed resentment and disconnect you from what’s real.
Your basic needs are sacred. Without quality sleep, good food, movement, healthy relationships, and a sense of meaning, meditation becomes like trying to plant flowers in cracked, dry soil.
Before you criticize yourself for skipping a sit, ask: Have I been caring for my body and nervous system today? Maybe the most mindful thing you can do is drink water, stretch, and go back to bed.
“I want to sleep better so I’m going to meditate.”
It depends. For some, meditation before bed brings ease. For others, it just revs up their thoughts. The science is mixed.
Before reaching for a practice, check in with your lifestyle:
Are you getting sunlight in the morning?
Are you moving your body during the day?
Have you tried saunas/cold showers?
Is your sleep space free of bright lights and screens?
Are you processing your stress before bed, not during it?
And most importantly — is there something unresolved that’s keeping you up? Sometimes insomnia is your psyche knocking at the door with something that’s not finished yet.
“I’m upset with my partner/friend/colleague, so I’m going to meditate.”
Pause. This is where things can go either way.
Meditation can absolutely help process emotion. But only if you’re bringing the emotion into your awareness — not bypassing it. Are you sitting with the story and the feelings, or trying to get rid of them?
Once you’ve digested the emotion, other skills come in handy — like Nonviolent Communication developed by Marshall Rosenberg, which helps turn raw feelings into actionable insight. The basic steps:
State what happened (without blame)
Share how you feel
Clarify your unmet need
Make a specific, compassionate request
That’s a meditation, too — just one that happens in real time, with another human being.
“I want to feel more connected to myself.”
Beautiful. That’s a valid intention. But meditation isn’t the only way.
You might also feel deeply connected to yourself after:
A hike in the forest
Dancing like a maniac to a song you love
Sharing your truth with someone who listens
Starting a creative project that lights you up
Sometimes the most profound “spiritual” moments are very human ones. Joy, intimacy, beauty, movement. These are all forms of presence. All of them are sacred.
“I want to feel more focused.”
Meditation can help with concentration — over time. But if your brain is scattered because you’re overwhelmed, burnt out, or lacking clarity, it might not be a concentration issue at all.
Sometimes the deeper focus comes after you:
Clear your to-do list
Say no to non-essential tasks
Let yourself rest without guilt
What if the most focused version of you is the one who has permission to not always be productive?
“I don’t know what to do in X situation, so I’m going on a 10-day retreat.”
Been there. It can feel like clarity will arrive if we just sit still long enough.
But here’s my caution: retreat spaces can strip you of external distractions without providing inner structure. If you’re in a vulnerable place — emotionally, psychologically — that silence can open a door you’re not ready to walk through alone.
I once turned to meditation for answers and ended up in therapy for three years instead. That wasn’t a “failure,” but it was humbling. The truth is, my brain wasn’t broken. I just needed help holding what was too big for me to hold by myself.
“I want to heal my trauma.”
Please pause. This is tender terrain.
Meditation without proper support can re-trigger trauma. Flashbacks, dissociation, emotional flooding — I’ve experienced all of this, and so have many others. Meditation can make things worse before it gets better, especially if it’s done in isolation, without trauma-informed guidance.
And unfortunately, many meditation teachers aren’t trained to spot the signs of trauma. They might say, “Just keep going,” or “This is purification.” But they don’t always see the deeper cost.
Trauma needs safety. Slowness. Co-regulation. A skilled guide. Before diving into meditation, make sure you have a foundation of support — a therapist, a grounding practice, a way to track your nervous system and come back to center.
Then, yes, meditation can be part of the healing. But never as a replacement for relationship. Never as a substitute for being truly held.
“My therapist told me I should meditate.”
Maybe that’s good advice. Maybe not. Ask yourself:
Do I feel safe enough to sit with my thoughts?
Am I using meditation to feel or to fix?
Is this helping me reconnect with myself — or avoid myself?
You don’t have to follow anyone’s script. You get to make this practice your own.
Final thought
Meditation isn’t a silver bullet. It’s a tool. A beautiful one — but only as wise as the hand that holds it. What’s more powerful than meditation is discernment, the willingness to pause and ask, What do I really need right now?
That question alone might be the most honest practice of all.
Work with me: I offer 1-1 guidance to help you deepen your meditation practice and get unstuck—whether you're facing emotional blocks, seeking more presence, or navigating a transition. If this resonates, let’s explore working together.