Who the hell am I to preach mindfulness?

My messy, imperfect journey towards healing, self-discovery and transformation

I grabbed the nearest thing I could find—a glass and threw it with full force. The sound of it crashing against the wooden door echoed loudly in the silence as it poured down like rain on the floor in tiny little pieces. It shattered something within me too—the façade of who I was supposed to be, revealing who I truly was.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, holding my knees close to my chest, I wondered how I had come to this moment to react like this. Nobody who knows me would think, in their wildest dreams, that I could behave this way. I have always been calm, composed, mature, and strong—everything I’ve been taught to be since I was young.

I was never good with arguments or confrontation. I didn’t know how to express myself subtly in a way that didn’t include rage or sobbing. I have always been too sensitive to words, actions, and energies that people give off, causing an overflow of emotions that I didn’t know how to handle.

A few minutes earlier, my husband and I had stood in the kitchen, with tension thick in the air and our voices as loud as they could be. We both wanted to speak but not listen—or understand. He took a breather, walked into another room, and slammed the door shut. There was nowhere else to go. It was 2020. The world was in lockdown, and so was I—locked in the repeating old patterns of my life.

The fight wasn’t anything unusual—the same old reasons. Different perspectives, opinions, the wrong tone, an inability to comprehend each other’s words, things taken out of context, and reactions based on emotion, not logic.

But the way I reacted wasn’t just because of this situation right now. It came from somewhere far below the surface.

The weight of not being understood and of not being truly heard had built up inside me for years. The bottled-up feelings that I often brushed under the carpet, but right now, there were no distractions left to escape into—just the four walls and the truth I was avoiding: I had been carrying the baggage of my past for too long.

I had buried my traumas under a veil of thin ice. Took one step wrong, and I fell into cold waters, gasping for breath and forced to face everything that was lurking beneath. All the feelings I had denied, the wounds that remained embedded under my skin, screaming for attention—I had refused to acknowledge them for so long. These emotions would find a way to creep up whenever I was emotionally overwhelmed.

"This is not me," I mumbled to myself through overflowing tears. But again, saying This is not me was just another form of denial. It’s like saying that the darkness that came out of you isn’t a part of who you are. Acknowledging the darkness within is the first step towards healing. I finally understood that.

I accepted that all of this was me. I have light within me and darkness too. I need to accept my wounds, scars, traumas, and negativity so I can finally let them go.

“The most difficult thing in life is to accept yourself completely and to forgive your own mistakes.” — Unknown

“Guess my meditation isn’t helping much,” I muttered as my husband and I carefully picked up shards of the broken glass. He didn’t look as repulsive to me as he had a few moments before. My rage had shattered with the glass, and so had his. We talked, hugged, ate some instant noodles, and called it a day.

I used to meditate occasionally, believing it would magically transform my personality and turn me into an enlightened being with complete control over my emotions. But that’s not how it works, as I later realized.

That incident made me reflect and realize that I had been focusing too much on changing others and my external circumstances. What I actually needed was to focus on changing myself—healing myself, to be precise.

So, I began to take mindful practices more seriously. I read, listened to, and spoke with any spiritual or enlightened source I could find. I identified my triggers and tried to understand the root causes of certain emotions. It’s funny how so many of these ugly emotions have nothing to do with our present circumstances. They often trace back to your childhood traumas or incidents that shook you to the core. I have experienced both.

I was born into a family where emotions weren’t easily expressed, not the positive ones at least. Expressing anger was easier than expressing love—perhaps it was considered a sign of weakness. I was raised to be strong and independent, never vulnerable, so I didn’t know how to express my emotions in a healthy manner—other than crying my eyes out, shutting myself behind a closed door, or throwing a glass.

Adulthood didn’t make it any easier. Experiencing heartbreak, failure, and emotional abuse only added to the pile. These untamed emotions kept simmering beneath the surface like molten lava, and then came the trigger that would set them off like a volcanic eruption, intensely spilling out in every direction.

In 2018, I lost my first child, nine days after she was born, and somehow that brought all of my darkness to the surface.

I thought I had toughened up, that I could take anything, but the moment I held her lifeless body, it felt like someone had twisted a knife through an open wound and pulled it out to let me bleed to death. I had never felt such pain, both physically and mentally. I was lost, depressed, and, above all, angry—angry at everything and everyone, for as long as I could remember.

The imprints of these traumas had extended beyond my mind, into my soul and existence, occasionally surfacing like roots pushing through concrete, no matter how deeply I tried to bury them. But I eventually decided to stop living in denial and accepted that parts of me needed healing.

You can’t change what’s going on around you until you start changing what’s going on within you." — Zig Ziglar

So what did I do?

It wasn’t a day or a week that I decided to live differently, but a slow-burning process of setting an intention to heal myself. Following these mindful practices helped me lighten the load.

Meditation:
I began taking meditation more seriously. I made sure to meditate at least once a day, especially before bed, because that’s when my mind would go into overdrive, filling with negative thoughts and anxieties. I started noticing a difference within a few weeks—my insomnia was slowly fading, and I was sleeping better.

Forgiveness:
My ancestors bore the weight of colonization, suppression, and war, passing down their pain in the form of insecurities, a survivalist mindset, and passive aggression. This cycle, disguised as "discipline," shaped us into tough children who were never shown love because they hadn’t experienced it themselves. But the good news is that many in my generation have recognized this repeating pattern and made the choice to break it. I chose to forgive my ancestors for what they did or didn’t do. I now hold on to the positives—the cherished memories, the sacrifices they made, the moments of laughter—and in doing so, I lightened my burden and made room for joy to fill the space they left behind.

Letting Go:
Suffering is a choice, and I chose not to suffer anymore. I experienced loss, as many others have, some perhaps even more painful. And I know that pain is deeply personal and unique to each of us. I decided to acknowledge my pain, and in doing so, I began to let it go. Though it resurfaces at times, I no longer beat myself up for feeling it. It doesn’t erase the progress I’ve made. What happened, happened. I can’t change the past, but I can accept it.

“Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.” — Unknown

Gratitude:
I pulled myself out of the victim mindset and began practicing gratitude. The more I counted my blessings, the more I was rewarded with things to be grateful for. Gratitude is the most simple but powerful practice to escape from negative patterns.

Observing:
I realized my anxieties stemmed from living in the past or the future. So, I began focusing on the present—on my surroundings, my actions, and the people in my life. As I have written previously as well, one of the simplest ways to practice mindfulness is to enjoy the most mundane activities of your life. Being fully present helped calm my anxieties significantly.

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"Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor." — Thich Nhat Hanh

I didn’t come to mindfulness through silent retreats at fancy resorts. My path was messy—acid trips in the Himalayas, failed relationships, self-questioning, spiraling through repeated patterns throughout my twenties, and dealing with all five stages of grief. But the shattered glass reminded me I had to do something about it. I wanted to be free of this cycle, free of my karmic baggage. And so, I began this journey to heal myself.

Everything I write in this newsletter comes from experience, not textbooks. Even after years of practicing mindfulness, I still experience low moments. But I’m more emotionally equipped to pull myself out of them. I’ve learned that these ebbs and flows are part of life. As long as we’re here in this human experience, we’ll feel a full range of emotions. And mindfulness helps in navigating these waves in a better way.

So who am I to preach mindfulness?

I’m no one special—not an expert, coach, or psychic. I’m just someone who has experienced life with all its light and darkness and is learning to live in its true essence. I’m a work in progress. I try to be better every day. Mindfulness helps me see what I need to work on, and I do my best. I write about this, hoping someone out there can relate and find value in it.

You can learn from me or choose not to—it’s up to you. You can practice mindfulness in your own way, in your own messy, imperfect life. Everyone’s journey is unique. Mindfulness isn’t something to preach—it’s something to practice in everyday moments.

Maybe we’re all just figuring this out as we go, and if my imperfect journey inspires you to slow down, then maybe I am the right person to talk about mindfulness.

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Thank you to all the subscribers who’ve joined since last week and every one of you who has shown so much love to my publication with your likes, comments, and restacks. Your encouragement means a lot and inspires me to be better every day. I’m truly grateful to you.

Love,

Sonaa.