How to Avoid FOMOM and Jump on the Weird Train

FOMOM = Fear of Missing Out on Meditation

It took me a long time to become a meditator.

Years.

A yoga teacher introduced it to me in my first yoga class. I liked the way I felt afterward. But I could never imagine doing it by myself.

I could never sit still that long. I saw myself as a doer, and sitting in a meditative seat seemed like I was doing nothing.

Doing nothing was not my jam.

But I kept hearing about meditation benefits, so I hung in there. Eventually, meditation changed my mind.

I wasn't doing nothing.

A simple way to think of meditation is that it washes and scrubs the brain, and having a clean mind is an excellent way to start your day.

Now I am a daily meditator, starting the morning with forty-five minutes of meditation followed by 15 minutes of journaling.

Here are a couple of experiences that are effects of the practice, which I haven't heard anyone talk about.

Last summer, I got my eyes done. My cataracts had gotten so bad that my contact lenses no longer worked. Before surgery, I needed the OK from my primary physician, stating that I was in good physical health.

A part of the physical exam included an EKG.

As I lay on the table at my primary's office, the medical technician was hooking up the machine with tangles of red cables intertwined like Medusa's hair.

The tech was taking a long time. Too long. The machine wasn't working.

Great.

I was her captive on the hard metal table with too much time to think. As is my way, I started catastrophizing.

What if EKG results are abnormal? Then I won't be able to get the surgery. That means I'll need to order more contacts. How long will that take?

What if they find out I'm dying? Then I won't need my eyes done. How long will I have?

Should I have had that second cup of coffee this morning? Will that make my heart beat too fast? Will I flunk my EKG?

I had to stop myself.

I followed the same advice I gave my students. I closed my eyes against the streams of fluorescent light and relaxed. I took a couple of slow deep breaths and entered the zone. It usually takes me a few minutes, but with the tech still battling the machine, I quickly dropped into a meditative state.

I opened my eyes when I heard EKG coughing out 36 inches of curly paper. Sacré bleu! I discovered the inspiration for CVS receipts. Wow, thank you, meditation!

Then the doctor walked in with a furrowed brow. "Are you a runner?" he asked.

Whenever I hear the word "runner," I think of my friend, Kristy, who competes in marathons and half-marathons like they’re a walk in the park.

And a walk in the park is just what I like to do.

I shook my head. I’m no Kristy.

"A heart with a normal rhythm will beat between 60 and 100 beats per minute. Yours is in the 50s. Let's get that checked out by a specialist."

No need, doctor! I knew what had happened.

"I was meditating during the EKG," I explained.

Not convinced, he says, "Yeah, I guess that could happen, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Get evaluated by a heart specialist, and if he says ok, I'll sign the paperwork."

Of course, that's what happened! That's one of the many benefits of meditating. I was proud of putting myself in that state after my mind had nearly hijacked me into despair.

But still, I had flunked my EKG.

Luckily, a cardiology practice squeezed me in later that week. The heart doctor agreed that my heart was fine, and yes, meditation can do that.

Here is another unusual thing that happens when I meditate.

I cry.

Not the weepy, bawling, snot-producing kind of crying. I mean, water comes out of my eyes dispassionately.

I promise I'm not thinking about anything sad. I'm not thinking about much of anything. I feel a sensation in my head as an unidentified emotion moves through me.

I feel a slight pressure, and water leaks out.

This thing is a bit wonky, but I think it's good that it's released, whatever it is.

Other weird things happen once you’re in the daily meditation groove.

My husband claims to get great parking spaces from his practice. That one sounds a bit iffy, but who am I to say?

I’d love to hear about yours. Comment below!

Do you have FOMOM yet?

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I want to talk about my Medium work in my newsletter every week but keep forgetting. I write twice weekly on Medium about various topics, but not much about yoga. I wrote this piece this week: How CIS Women Must Hold Space and Embrace Our Trans Co-Workers.

Many writers are there besides me, so it’s an interesting place to hang out. Medium pays writers a small fee for a reader’s reading time. It’s a complicated formula that I don’t understand, but I have earned some income there.

You can read a few articles for free, but the rest are behind a paywall. If you want to become a member, the price is $50 per year. For that $50, you can also write and get your thoughts out there.

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