Daily Meditation Ruined My Career

It was around 7:45 am on a Wednesday. I was sitting cross-legged on my couch in a living room, with my eyes closed and my hands open, taking deep breaths in and out, looking like a person who has absolutely got it together.

From the outside, I probably looked like a wellness influencer in her natural habitat. Calm, peaceful, possibly about to recommend a £90 candle.

But then, very unexpectedly, the tears started, and my breathing became strangely more erratic. Now I looked less like an influencer and more like someone having a moment on their couch before work.

Hard to explain what was actually happening in there. You could guess that maybe I remembered something sad, or maybe a worrying thought crossed my mind. But it wasn’t that at all.

Somehow, in those ten or fifteen minutes of silence, I touched something I can only describe as pure joy that I had never felt before.

For a moment, I felt like I was at the top of the world, having everything I needed, and at the same time - nothing at all. I wasn’t even sure I was a person. I was more like some sort of wind - something that moves everywhere, sees everything, and is also somehow nothing.

I didn’t need anything. I just needed to exist in that exact feeling for eternity, please and thank you.

But then, of course, my alarm went off. And so it disappeared. It was time to get up and get ready for work. Just brilliant!

I kind of wish I could share an inspiring story here. Maybe something about discovering my inner peace and how beautiful the world actually is. Maybe even a book recommendation at the end. :)

But instead, what I actually felt was pure anger.

Anger that whatever I did for the rest of the day was going to be a step down from those fifteen minutes. Actually no… Not just a step down, but the opposite. Everything that followed would actively push me further away from that feeling.

So I was furious. And not something I could explain to anyone. It was a little weird, you know.

What I Was Actually Looking For

I started meditating at around 19. I had an agenda. I wanted to figure out what to do with my life, specifically what to study and where. I’d say it was a totally reasonable use of ancient spiritual practice.

I tried different techniques, some of which worked strangely well. Some of the experiences I had changed me in ways I still can’t explain. I also started doing all the other things, such as living in the present, not expecting too much, trying to take care of my body, mind and soul. Pretty much the whole package, as we’ll do.

I kind of felt alone and wanted to be a part of a community. But every community I found had too many rules, too many expectations, too much of a vibe I didn’t want. So I kept to myself and followed my own path. Very free, very independent, and probably slightly insufferable. Who knows, not like I asked anyone to share their opinions.

Then came university - a whole new country, a whole new culture, figuring everything out from scratch. I knew pretty quickly that if I wanted to survive socially, the spiritual stuff needed to go. It’s hard to make new friends when you’re a little weird like that. (I say this with full affection for my weird self, of course.)

And I was right! I found friends, figured things out, gained experience, lived a classic student life. I tried meditating here and there, but it was more of a hobby than a practice, if I’m honest. The timing wasn’t right.

And yet, when I was alone in my room, I wanted to disappear. To be somewhere else, unsure where, but preferably not this reality. Not this world. I wanted to exist somewhere else, where I could let my wonder flow freely, not to be contained by what is normal, acceptable, or practical.

I met people. Spirituality was having a moment, as I’m sure you know. Everyone was doing magic mushrooms, DMT, and having transformative experiences left and right. They were sharing stories that you probably couldn’t even find in fantasy novels. I never experienced those things, but I wished they were true. Anything felt more interesting than reality and everyday life. I ate those stories up, with big, eager eyes. I wanted to experience them myself, but never felt comfortable trying anything beyond meditation. I wanted things to be natural, to be real, to come from me.

Eventually, I got a full-time job after I graduated (yay!). And meditation and spirituality were kind of cool in the new world I entered, so I slowly eased into it again.

10–15 minutes every morning.

At first, to calm my mind, to relearn being in the present. Later - to escape reality and find a moment of peace to hide in, before hell breaks loose at work.

Trying to Be Spiritual But Craving Achievement

Here’s the thing about me at this point: I wanted to achieve something. I wanted to feel valuable, important, and capable.

I’d left my home country, my friends and my family, and told everyone it would be better for me elsewhere. I had a lot to prove. I wanted my parents to be proud and have nice stories to share with other relatives and their friends. I know they liked to show off a little bit (although they said they didn’t).

That drive pushed me to work extremely hard and absorb a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have just absorbed quietly. I also had a partner who watched me push through it all, and somewhere in the back of my mind I hoped that all this effort would eventually add up to something. Something we could both point to.

It’s funny, but the truth is that they didn’t really care. They just wanted me to be happy and more present with them. That was it.

But I couldn’t understand this for years. I somehow managed to put this idea into my head that I had to be worthy of their love by being cool. So meditation eventually worked for me as escapism. This is where I could be truly myself. Where I could feel free and escape everyone else’s expectations. That I myself created. In my mind.

So I was basically trying to escape reality and hide from the truth, and called it spirituality.

Slow Changes at First

Whatever my actual motives, the daily meditation did do something to me. It made me more mellow, quiet, non-confrontational, peaceful, patient, tolerant, understanding, compassionate, and forgiving. Things I’d have never added next to my name when I was still at school.

You might read that and think: wow, what a wonderful person. And I wish I was!

But here’s the other side of it - those same qualities made me very easy to walk over.

I couldn’t fight against it, even when I felt it. I didn’t want to. I wanted peace. I would let things happen and call it progress. I was above it. I was not taking it personally. These people doing those “bad” things were wrong, less advanced than I was. That’s what I felt, so that they’d feel less important to me. Less hurtful. As you can see, very zen, very detached, and very convenient.

The truth is, I didn’t know how to protect myself. I didn’t know how to do this respectfully and assertively. I didn’t know, back then, that you can develop nice character traits and also find ways to fight and protect yourself at the same time. But whatever…

I’d mention bits and pieces to people close to me about certain people and experiences I’d had, and they were really worried. They told me to leave, or at least push back. And do it strongly. But nah, I said everything was fine, nothing really touched me. They were not personal - just broken people trying to break me, but they couldn’t touch my inner being, so it didn’t really matter.

Looking back: I was absolutely affected. I was just very committed to being miserable. As you do. :)))

As time went on, the gap between how I felt during meditation and how I felt the rest of the day kept widening. I wanted to bring more of that meditative feeling into my reality. There were opportunities to progress at work, but I mentioned to the team that I wanted more peace. I didn’t want to fight, be stressed, or become someone I’m not to get better titles and better roles. Which to them basically sounded like I don’t want to achieve anything anymore. I kind of did, still, but I refused to give up myself to get it.

I spent a few years like this. Existing. Feeling stuck. Not knowing what direction to take. I still wanted something, but I wanted that something to come to me by me being who I was. Which, unfortunately, proved to be difficult.

Then, eventually, meditation started showing its teeth. Big, nasty teeth. It sounds strange, but it’s true.

It stopped being ten minutes of calm before the day started. It was a practice that showed me what it feels like to be at home and how much my real world doesn’t - the area I live, the work I do, the conditions I have. Nothing could come near it.

My meditation sessions would show me glimpses of a life that could be, and I’d remember a life I don’t have.

I asked for peace, but I felt pushed in a different direction. Life became unnecessarily difficult, and I couldn’t even talk about this with anyone, because I couldn’t explain what my problem was.

The thing is… I think I was supposed to want less, to desire less, to be less on my spiritual journey, but my soul somehow pushed me to be more, to want more, to desire more.

Not more money, fame, or achievement, mind you. But more life, more expression, more love. Realness, authenticity, alignment. Omg, I don’t even like these words, they are so overused, but it’s true!

Eventually, I told my workplace that I can’t do this anymore. The role, the environment, basically everything, is not what makes me happy. I don’t feel whole in it. I need to wear a mask to survive it, and then I’m too tired to live fully afterwards. The problem is that I asked for it. I wanted it. I was fine with it for some time, and then I had to tell them the opposite.

Not ideal.

They offered to try to craft my role in a way that would work better for me. It was a kind offer, so I, of course, agreed. I had hope, but it didn’t work. I think we kind of all knew it wouldn’t, but gave it a go anyway.

That whole year, I continued trying to create something that would be closer to the life and feeling I wanted, but the more time I spent in the quiet, the less I felt that I fit in the real world. I felt deep in my heart that it was just a ticking clock, and I’d leave at any moment. Any day. Maybe even any hour. I couldn’t plan anything; I was waiting for something to give me the answer. For some magical moment that would give me the clarity I needed to press the button. I couldn’t plan the future, because in my mind I had this constant thought: “I can’t plan now, I might quit my job tomorrow, so I need to be careful.” (Very healthy way to live. 10/10. But also wouldn’t recommend.)

Then one day, something finally happened that gave me my answer. It didn’t arrive the way I’d have chosen, but I was grateful for it anyway

I told my work I was quitting.

Nobody was surprised, of course.

What Changed When I Stopped Running

Quitting was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. Not because it was the wrong one (looking back, it clearly wasn’t), but because I had attached so much fear and judgment to it.

I didn’t want to be a quitter. I didn’t want to start from zero. I didn’t want to feel that I was giving up.

I knew the kinds of things I was interested in doing, but I didn’t have a clear direction yet. Quitting was dangerous, and it could have been the worst decision of my life.

Quitting was also painful because I had so much fear attached to it. So many assumptions, so much judgment. I truly hate to say this, but when I was working hard through inner pain and misalignment, I judged people who randomly chose not to. That’s the truth. I was a victim of my own shadow. And that’s why I now think it was so necessary for me to experience this.

As you’d expect, the universe has a sense of humour. But that’s fine.

But now that I had some space and time to really breathe, I spent my time on self-discovery. I’m still on a journey, but I now know myself better than I ever did. I also feel somewhat ready to finally talk about this honestly.

Quitting somehow turned out to actually be my biggest achievement, because it gave me more value than everything else. It wasn’t nearly as scary as I had painted it in my mind. I was afraid I’d feel useless, empty, dependent. But instead I’m feeling free, capable, and full. I was worried that people around me would look funny at me, judge me, and ask me to explain the value of my existence, but instead, I found support, understanding, and care.

Now I have time to follow my curiosities, learn things I actually want to learn, get my side projects moving, write my novel that I’ll probably never show to anybody, and work with people and projects that excite me. I can now do the things I actually want, which is cool!

So yes, meditation did ruin my career. I’ll probably never be able to climb a corporate ladder, play the politics game, or hustle for validation and big titles. Now I feel too picky. I have a strong need to build things from scratch, how I think they should be built, not to follow someone else’s rules and systems that I don’t agree with. A good culture now is a non-negotiable for me, too. I don’t care about anything else more than a healthy culture and systems that allow people to thrive inside them.

Now I have a wound that I want to fix, and I want to help others fix it, too. Whether that’s the clearest possible path to doing meaningful work, or the most self-limiting constraint I’d have chosen, I’m really not sure yet. Probably both.

But even then, quitting actually gave me back much more than I expected. Apart from clarity and freedom, it also gave me self-knowledge and space to grow in the exact ways I want to. And I’m hopeful that the next adventure I pick will align with my journey at the exact level I need right now. And next time, when I feel misaligned again, and I’m sure I will, I’ll quit quicker instead of wondering for years whether it’s the right decision or not.

Thanks for reading!

Lina

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