I Just Can't Do It

Meditate. The word calls to me every day on my iCal application. Sparkling in its purple highlighted cell, I look at it, acknowledge it, and ignore it.

Instead, I tackle hair appointments, doctor visits, the gym, the grocery store, even the library’s summer reading program gets a higher priority. I accomplish everything on the iCal schedule, except meditate.

I should do it, I know I should.

Several years ago I sought the help of a therapist for various issues, and he, after only a few sessions said, “I think you would really benefit from meditation.”

He was apparently so convinced I needed it that he made me a meditation tape. As I exited his office, he handed me a cassette tape. “Listen to it, I think you’ll really like it.”

Thanking him, I left and stared at the black plastic rectangle with the word “meditation” hand-written across it. I couldn’t help but think, Who makes a cassette tape anymore? I mean, is that technology even around? How old is this guy?

And then, my narcissism took over. Hmm, I thought, maybe he has a crush on me. Maybe this is a psychologist’s version of a “mixed tape.” You know, those tapes of love songs boys made for you if they liked you. I heard about them in high school, but was never the recipient of one. I wasn’t the kind of girl teenage boys pined away for. I was the kind of girl they cheated off of in chemistry class. And French. And algebra.

Finally, I thought, my very own mixed tape. Granted it was from my therapist, but hey, I got one.

After my delayed teenage euphoria subsided, I realized my therapist was not crushing on me. He’d seen my file. He knew what kind of crazy lurked beneath the surface.

Sitting behind his desk as I poured out my woes to him, he scribbled in his yellow legal pad. Probably things like: “criminally insane,” “total whack job,” and “do not give her your home address.”

I threw out his kind effort to get me to meditate. Not because I didn’t appreciate it, but because I didn’t own a cassette player. Maybe it really was my first, and only, mixed tape. I’ll never know.

Here we are years later, and the kind people of the Advanced Wellness Centre are telling me I would benefit from meditation.

So I’m going to try it again.

Tomorrow.