Over the past few years, I’ve had the privilege of learning from some of the world’s leading experts in stress, sleep, women’s health and nervous system regulation. Again and again, the research points us toward the same lifestyle foundations: practices that support the parasympathetic nervous system, improve recovery, reduce chronic inflammation and help us feel safer in our own bodies.
Meditation is one of them.
In my early forties, I started meditating on the bathroom floor. Not because it was glamorous, but because it was the only quiet place I could find. I committed to ten minutes every morning before the rest of the house woke up and, over time, it became part of the rhythm of my life.
Until it wasn’t.
A stressful move into a much smaller home. Three very large men under one roof. A dog. A business that seemed to speed up by the week. Family health concerns. Constant noise. Constant responsibility. Every minute of my day belonged to someone else.
Eventually, there was nothing left for me.
By January, I could feel myself approaching burnout again. Not dramatically. Quietly. Deep in my bones. And having experienced burnout before, I recognized the warning signs early enough to know something had to change.
Curiosity is often more useful than self-criticism
One weekend, I sat down and asked myself a different question.
Not: “Why am I failing to keep up with the habits that used to help me?”
But instead: “What do I need now?”
I think one of the hardest truths about this stage of life is realizing that the tools that supported us five years ago may not be the tools we need today. Midlife asks us to reevaluate. To adapt. To notice when something no longer fits.
So instead of criticizing myself for falling out of my meditation practice, I tried to get curious about why it no longer felt effective.
What I realized was simple: my brain needed a different doorway into calm.
That’s what led me to TM® meditation.
Within a week, I felt a noticeable shift. Not perfection. Not bliss. But space. Perspective. A feeling that my nervous system had unclenched slightly for the first time in months.
I haven’t missed a day since.
My family noticed it before I even said anything. Life was still messy. Work was still demanding. But my relationship to stress had changed. I felt more grounded, more resilient and strangely more grateful too.
Sometimes life tests the work for you.
Then last month, life tested me again.
Everything suddenly became very hard, very quickly. My inner critic came roaring back and started asking all the usual questions:
Is twenty minutes twice a day really worth it?
Do you honestly have time for this right now?
Is meditation even making a difference?
And then came Madrid.
I’d been invited to speak at a conference for HR leaders. I had prepared meticulously. The presentation was strong. The script was rehearsed. I arrived at the airport before dawn feeling ready for the day ahead.
But between flight delays, passport lines and impossible taxi queues, the entire trip unraveled.
I landed in Madrid at the exact moment the conference ended.
Old me would have spiraled. Anxiety. Shame. Catastrophizing. Total nervous system collapse.
But this version of me responded differently.
While we sat delayed on the runway, I meditated.
Without Wi-Fi or signal, I used the silence to think deeply about the business in a way I’d been craving for months.
I mapped out how to still deliver value to the conference attendees remotely. I rewrote parts of the presentation. I planned a recorded version to send to organizers when I returned home.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started reflecting honestly on where my energy is going — and what I need next to support my body and mind through this chapter of life.
I even booked an advanced meditation course starting this summer.
Of course I was frustrated. I’m human.
But I also found perspective surprisingly quickly. Enough perspective, in fact, to enjoy a beautiful glass of wine and excellent tapas at a neighborhood restaurant that evening instead of replaying the disaster over and over in my head.
And honestly? That’s when I realized the meditation was working.
Not because life became peaceful. But because I stayed connected to myself while life became chaotic.
Midlife wellbeing is rarely about perfection
One thing I’m learning in midlife is that holding too tightly to any rigid blueprint for wellness can become stressful in itself.
The real practice is learning to continually reassess.
To test and learn.
To refine.
To notice when our bodies, brains and emotional needs have changed.
Because when we can meet stress with even a little more space, curiosity and self-awareness, the difference is profound. Not only mentally, but physically too.
Our nervous systems feel it.
And maybe that’s the real measure of whether something is “working” after all.
How Do You Know If Meditation Is Actually Working?
Over the past few years, I’ve had the privilege of learning from some of the world’s leading experts in stress, sleep, women’s health and nervous system regulation. Again and again, the research points us toward the same lifestyle foundations: practices that support the parasympathetic nervous system, improve recovery, reduce chronic inflammation and help us feel safer in our own bodies.
Meditation is one of them.
In my early forties, I started meditating on the bathroom floor. Not because it was glamorous, but because it was the only quiet place I could find. I committed to ten minutes every morning before the rest of the house woke up and, over time, it became part of the rhythm of my life.
Until it wasn’t.
A stressful move into a much smaller home. Three very large men under one roof. A dog. A business that seemed to speed up by the week. Family health concerns. Constant noise. Constant responsibility. Every minute of my day belonged to someone else.
Eventually, there was nothing left for me.
By January, I could feel myself approaching burnout again. Not dramatically. Quietly. Deep in my bones. And having experienced burnout before, I recognized the warning signs early enough to know something had to change.
Curiosity is often more useful than self-criticism
One weekend, I sat down and asked myself a different question.
Not: “Why am I failing to keep up with the habits that used to help me?”
But instead: “What do I need now?”
I think one of the hardest truths about this stage of life is realizing that the tools that supported us five years ago may not be the tools we need today. Midlife asks us to reevaluate. To adapt. To notice when something no longer fits.
So instead of criticizing myself for falling out of my meditation practice, I tried to get curious about why it no longer felt effective.
What I realized was simple: my brain needed a different doorway into calm.
That’s what led me to TM® meditation.
Within a week, I felt a noticeable shift. Not perfection. Not bliss. But space. Perspective. A feeling that my nervous system had unclenched slightly for the first time in months.
I haven’t missed a day since.
My family noticed it before I even said anything. Life was still messy. Work was still demanding. But my relationship to stress had changed. I felt more grounded, more resilient and strangely more grateful too.
Sometimes life tests the work for you.
Then last month, life tested me again.
Everything suddenly became very hard, very quickly. My inner critic came roaring back and started asking all the usual questions:
Is twenty minutes twice a day really worth it?
Do you honestly have time for this right now?
Is meditation even making a difference?
And then came Madrid.
I’d been invited to speak at a conference for HR leaders. I had prepared meticulously. The presentation was strong. The script was rehearsed. I arrived at the airport before dawn feeling ready for the day ahead.
But between flight delays, passport lines and impossible taxi queues, the entire trip unraveled.
I landed in Madrid at the exact moment the conference ended.
Old me would have spiraled. Anxiety. Shame. Catastrophizing. Total nervous system collapse.
But this version of me responded differently.
While we sat delayed on the runway, I meditated.
Without Wi-Fi or signal, I used the silence to think deeply about the business in a way I’d been craving for months.
I mapped out how to still deliver value to the conference attendees remotely. I rewrote parts of the presentation. I planned a recorded version to send to organizers when I returned home.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started reflecting honestly on where my energy is going — and what I need next to support my body and mind through this chapter of life.
I even booked an advanced meditation course starting this summer.
Of course I was frustrated. I’m human.
But I also found perspective surprisingly quickly. Enough perspective, in fact, to enjoy a beautiful glass of wine and excellent tapas at a neighborhood restaurant that evening instead of replaying the disaster over and over in my head.
And honestly? That’s when I realized the meditation was working.
Not because life became peaceful. But because I stayed connected to myself while life became chaotic.
Midlife wellbeing is rarely about perfection
One thing I’m learning in midlife is that holding too tightly to any rigid blueprint for wellness can become stressful in itself.
The real practice is learning to continually reassess.
To test and learn.
To refine.
To notice when our bodies, brains and emotional needs have changed.
Because when we can meet stress with even a little more space, curiosity and self-awareness, the difference is profound. Not only mentally, but physically too.
Our nervous systems feel it.
And maybe that’s the real measure of whether something is “working” after all.