This is not a picture of me meditating.

It’s a stock photo of someone who kinda looks like me meditating, though. Getting a picture of myself meditating might be a little difficult, because that would require me asking someone in my family to take that picture, and I’m always telling them to please just leave me the hell alone. It’s funny how that’s happened more as I’ve gotten older, that I really just love peace and quiet. It used to drive me insane when I thought I was missing something. Any party, any group of people, anywhere. 

Meditation has become part of my life just in the past year. Before that, I spent a lot of my time solving (already-solved) murders on TV. Now, if I go a day without taking the time to be present, I feel anxiety and seasonal depression sneaking up on me like some dark figure wearing one of those flammable polyester Halloween cloaks.

Sometimes at work, I sneak out to my car to meditate. That’s super-fun. Here in rural Virginia, you don’t see a lot of people sitting around in public (at least not upright) with their eyes closed. Last month, in a parking lot in my hometown, a cop knocked on my car window and questioned me to make sure I wasn’t suicidal or something. I was like, “Don’t you understand, man?” I’m trying to not be suicidal here!”

I like meditation because it’s the one thing that all of the world’s experts—psychologists and happy people—seem to agree that you should do, but it’s the “good for you” activity that doesn’t actually require any activity. For years, my doctor told me I should probably exercise, and that I should quit smoking, but I bucked the experts on that crazy bullshit. 

But sitting there with my eyes closed? Okay, I told myself, I can handle that. And it’s funny, since I started sitting there with my eyes closed, now I actually do exercise, and I also quit smoking. Spooky. It’s almost like this stuff works.

Wanye (rhymes with Kanye) doesn’t really seem to understand it, but he’s playing along. I’m going to an all-day silent meditation retreat this weekend, and when I told him about it he made that “What?” face that I can’t really explain. Then he thought he was really funny when he asked, “So you’re going to pay someone so that you can be quiet? I’ll let you be quiet right here at home for free.”

Which is easy for him to say (and he has, multiple times), but is totally not true. This is a man that brings a lot of noise along with him. If he’s not yelling nonsense throughout the house at the top of his voice, he’s MAKING THAT LOOGIE-HOCKING SOUND ONE THOUSAND TIMES A DAY, or he’s YELLING AT THE OAKLAND RAIDERS ON TV or he’s ON HIS PHONE IN THE BED AND REFUSES TO TURN OFF THE GOD DAMN CLICKING SOUNDS. 

Breathe, Monica. Breathe.