Experiencing Sadness After Meditation? Here’s 3 Reasons Why and What You Can Do About It.
Experiencing sadness after meditation is a more common experience than one would imagine. In fact, some people may even feel numb, or find themselves slipping into depression after meditating. I don’t say that to scare-monger but to openly discuss the various unpleasant, and even harmful, experiences that are possible during or after meditation. In this article, I aim to destigmatise these ‘side-effects’ of meditation and to offer alternative ways to access mindfulness, without exposing oneself to harm.
My interest in this specific ‘side-effect’ – sadness after meditation – was sparked by a conversation with someone who refused to meditate because of how they felt after meditating. Frankly, when they described the deep and profound sadness that enveloped them post-meditation, it seemed logical to me that they did NOT want to meditate ever again!
After all, it’s human nature to avoid unpleasant experiences. In fact, it’s almost instinctive, isn’t it? A child who touches a candle flame and gets burnt will never put their hands in the fire again. So that avoidance instinct is actually a protective one.
But human beings are more complex than this. While it is wise for a child to avoid touching an open flame again, if that fear prevents the child from ever being around fire – for example, at a bonfire during a school picnic – or from cooking when they become an adult, or enjoying scented candles, then this would mean a single and singular negative experience became so totalising that it prevents them from enjoying the fullness of life.
This is precisely why I was drawn to explore this subject – negative experiences with meditation – and in this specific article, sadness after meditating. I attempt to do so from a place of kindness and curiosity, and hope to demonstrate that negative experiences like sadness after meditation need not stop one from accessing the benefits of mindfulness.
In this article, I look specifically at the reasons why one may experience sadness after meditating. We examine the purpose of meditation from a spiritual lens, the nervous system states that meditation can mimic and therefore exaggerate, as well as the genetic propensity to depression. This article also briefly covers crying during meditation. The last section will cover various methods to access mindfulness that do not involve still and inward-focused forms of meditation that are most likely to invoke sadness.
Meditation Is a Spiritual Technology — And That Can Be a Problem
There are many different forms of meditation but broadly speaking, it is a process of paying focused attention that is usually directed inwards. The concept of meditation is widely accepted as originating from Eastern spiritual traditions such as Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism.
One general aim of meditation itself is to help the practitioner see things as they truly are and not as they appear to be. In many Eastern philosophies, there’s a belief that this world we live in is a mere illusion, and it is through meditation that one becomes capable of seeing through and beyond this illusion. In this way, meditation is a way to achieve enlightenment. Please note that I have described this concept in very broad strokes as I am no expert on this matter and do not claim to have achieved enlightenment. In fact, I meditate specifically to practise mindfulness, so let’s take a closer look at mindfulness meditation.
In mindfulness meditation, we first choose an anchor – often the breath, the body sensations, or even movements like walking – and return our attention to it over and over. In this way, we aim to embody the neutral observer – or the Self (with a capital S to signify the whole human being, including but not limited to our conscious egoic small ‘s’ self). In a way, the point of embodying the neutral observer is also to be able to see the truth of reality, and to cast away illusions. But many people who meditate (including me) do not have this lofty aim. Rather, I hope, through mindfulness meditation, to increase my awareness, especially self-awareness, and to act from compassion, including self-compassion.
However, aiming lower (i.e. within the more human realm, I should say) does not prevent us from sometimes overshooting and accessing a spiritual experience we have not asked for! In plain words, when we choose to use a spiritual technology, it should not surprise us if we have the kind of experience this technology was aimed at generating. If one fires a gun, even if one aims well, the shot may go astray and hurt someone, or damage something. I am aware of the absurdity of comparing meditation to a gun, but the analogy holds. Besides, for people who experience harm from wellness advice to “Just meditate!” — meditation is, in fact, the smoking gun.
To draw the connection between meditation as a spiritual tool aimed at achieving enlightenment, and the experience of sadness after meditating, I have to reference a related spiritual belief from the Eastern traditions – that of Oneness. You see, this idea of humans, or living beings, being separate and individual entities is considered to be part of the illusory nature of life on earth. The concept of Oneness includes a belief that the divine spark is present in all life forms and so we are all actually interconnected. A related concept is that all living beings are facets of one soul, and that we can, and in fact are meant to, achieve union with the divine, one another, and nature.
You do not have to believe these concepts to experience a sense of oneness, wholeness or even bliss during meditation. It is perfectly plausible, then, to experience a sort of withdrawal, or ‘nervous system crash,’ when one finishes meditating and returns to the ordinary ‘real’ life.
By the way, this phenomenon is not unique to meditation. An orgasm is often referred to as ‘la petite morte’ meaning ‘the little death.’ While meditation and sex may feel like very different topics, the phenomenon behind the experiences is similar – when people feel melancholic post-coitus, it is often the ‘let down’ after an emotional high, i.e. the experience of intense sensation, bliss or even oneness during orgasm. And this same phenomenon may also explain why some people feel sad after meditating.
On the other hand, the experience of ‘seeing through the illusion,’ especially when you sit down to meditate without aiming for that specific experience, can be extremely discombobulating. It can lead to feeling numb, or spaced out after meditation, and while that isn’t the same as sadness, it is adjacent. Besides, the same person may feel sad after one meditation session, and spaced out after another, so I wanted to offer a full description of the experience.
Nervous System States That Mimic — And Exaggerate — The Stillness of Meditation
We’ve spoken elsewhere about how the commonest trope of meditation is sitting still, looking inwards and in this article, we’ve looked at how far from being just a trope, this was designed as actual spiritual technology to attain enlightenment. In this section let’s take a look at the human nervous system through two different models of behavioural response, and see how they can mimic and exaggerate the stillness effect of meditation.
The first thing I’d like us to consider is the nervous system response to stress or threat – also called the 4 Fs. These stand for Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn. If you take a look at the animal kingdom, it’s easy to understand Fight or Flight. When confronted with a predator, the potential prey will either flee or attempt to fight and take down the predator. The decision of fight versus flight is almost instinctual, and may depend on a number of factors – the speed of potential prey, any in-built advantages it has in terms of attacking or escaping, whether the terrain favours prey or predator, and whether or not either one is in a group. It is evident that the fight/flight response is fine-tuned to optimise the survival of the prey.
On the other hand, prey may freeze on the spot when they notice a predator, hoping that by avoiding movement they escape detection. Interestingly, the prey often harnesses the ‘freeze’ mode when fight or flight is likely to be unsuccessful.
Now, we often forget that human beings are also animals, and while we no longer live in jungles where we may encounter predators around the corner, our nervous system still responds to threats in a similar fashion. Although danger may seem rare in our modern lives – restricted to major events like accidents, assault or war – our nervous systems are geared for survival and are constantly scanning for potential threats to respond to. A quick-to-anger boss or spouse is a threat, and our nervous systems will respond with one of the same three Fs as the animals we looked at, with the addition of Fawning – a more complex social response that humans have developed to neutralise threat.
My personal shorthand for fight is the emotion of anger, and for flight, it’s when I experience anxiety – the sort where you want to jump out of your skin, or run away from your life. But when I think of freeze – that strange combination of an inner state of hyper-alertness and outward stillness – I can’t help but reflect on how similar it is to meditation – also a state of heightened mental awareness and simultaneous bodily stillness.
Surely it is not a reach to wonder if people who are prone to the Freeze response (and most people have a strong preference to one of the Fs over others, especially in specific situations) would find that meditation actually aggravates their tendency to Freeze in response to a threat. At the same time I do want to state that there is no correlation or evidence that Freeze corresponds to Sadness as an emotion or even numbness. What I’m providing is a neuroscience-based lens to reflect on one’s own experience, not iron-clad scientific evidence.
Another such nervous system based lens is the Polyvagal Theory by Stephen Porges. He describes three nervous system states that a healthy human animal moves up and down. In brief, the ventral vagal state is the one where we are calm and connected to ourselves and others. The sympathetic system is where we are active – incidentally, the fight or flight defence mechanisms we talked of earlier are powered by the sympathetic nervous system. But the third state, the dorsal vagal state, is the one that is relevant for our discussion, for it corresponds to collapse or immobilisation. You can see where I am going with this.
Just like the freeze state, the dorsal vagal collapse/immobilisation is a response to danger or threat. For human beings who often suffer small ‘t’ trauma or complex PTSD, danger does not necessarily mean something as obvious as a tiger jumping out at us, or an accident. It can be smaller, subtler, and more importantly, it may be ‘perceived’ danger – our body registers a lack of safety where no threat exists. Now there is a healthy restorative component to the dorsal vagal state. Some examples include intimacy, nursing and digestion, and meditation – when it is restorative.
In particular, the sit-still, go-inwards, focus-on-your-breath sort of meditation harnesses the dorsal vagal nervous system. If one is in a truly restful state then this sort of meditation is nourishing. But it can also exaggerate an individual’s propensity to occupy the dorsal vagal collapse/immobilisation state.
Please know that neither freezing nor the dorsal vagal collapse/immobilisation is something bad or something to be ashamed of. It is a description of a nervous system state that exists because it ‘works’ to protect us from harm. But we are NOT meant to camp out in any of the nervous system states, but to move through them as needed. If you recognise yourself in the description of either the freeze state or the dorsal vagal collapse/immobilisation, and also find yourself feeling sad, sorrowful, numb or spaced out after sitting meditation practice, then this section was written for you. Later in this article we will discuss other ways to access mindfulness that may be a better fit for you.
When Meditation Makes Depression Worse
As in the case of anxiety, meditation and mindfulness can be invaluable to help one cope with some symptoms of depression like negative thinking and rumination. But by no means is it a panacea for either. For reasons similar to the ones we discussed in the previous section, some forms of meditation that involve sitting still and focusing inwards may mimic and exaggerate the listlessness and interiority of experience that often accompanies depression. In such a situation, meditation may not be helpful, and may even worsen depression.
There isn’t a way in which we can predict which subset of folks with depression will feel worse after meditation. In the solutions section, I’ll offer suggestions on the various forms of meditation and mindfulness that may be safer for those with a history of depression, particularly if they’re undertaking a mindfulness practice on their own.
Why You Might Cry During Meditation
Some people may find themselves crying during meditation. Embarrassing as this is to admit, I too have cried while meditating. Those sessions were usually guided meditations that required imaginal work, such as inner child healing meditations or future self ones. While I haven’t experienced tearing up during straightforward mindfulness meditation focused on breath, or body scans, I know some people have, and I want to normalise this experience by offering some explanations.
When we sit to meditate, we quieten down and that may allow us to finally pay attention to feelings, memories and experiences that we have suppressed in order to carry on with our daily life. In this way tears can be a form of gentle release of deep emotions, and there’s nothing wrong (or embarrassing!) with letting them flow.
Guided meditations that specifically recall past experiences are almost designed to bring up suppressed emotions and it is quite natural to experience tearing up in this situation. But even without verbal guidance to explore painful memories, or emotive background music, the very process of turning inwards and paying attention to oneself can bring up intense feelings, and tears may follow.
The mechanism behind this is quite different from what we’ve been talking about so far. Crying is a form of emotional release and letting go of the hurt and pain of a situation can leave one feeling better, more relaxed or happier after crying. In contrast, sadness or numbness after meditation is both more insidious and pervasive. If you feel like crying during a particular or occasional meditation, my advice would be to allow yourself to cry freely and release the pent-up emotions. If you feel like crying every time you meditate, or feel grief or listlessness after meditating, the solution section may have some helpful suggestions for you.
How to Practise Mindfulness Despite Experiencing Sadness After Meditation
The issues covered in this article are wide and varied even if the mechanisms may be related. If you or someone you love has experienced any of these, and are still looking for ways to access mindfulness, this section will offer some suggestions for ways to access mindfulness even if traditional meditation makes you feel sad.
We’ve focused quite a bit on the phenomenon of stillness and inward attention as the underlying mechanism for sadness after meditating. However, it is not mandatory to sit still in order to meditate. Walking meditation is a traditional form of mindfulness meditation and can be beneficial in situations where stillness is counter-productive. In walking meditation the main anchor is the actual process of walking – the lifting of the foot, forward movement and contact with the ground. Accompanying movements like the swinging of one’s arms while walking, and even sensory input that one encounters while walking, are often acceptable secondary anchors. In this way, walking meditation also offers a counterpoint to the inward orientation and single focus of sitting meditation practice.
One can also explore more contemporary forms of movement-based mindfulness practices, like my Art of Mindfulness program, and even develop one’s own sensory/movement based mindfulness rituals. Including a sensory component naturally orients the attention outwards while keeping it focused, and this may be very helpful to those who experience excessive interiority as harmful.
The 5-4-3-2-1 five senses grounding practice is a wonderful tool to pull oneself back into the present moment. It can be particularly helpful if you’ve experienced a floaty, untethered sensation after meditation, and also in case of rumination and negative thought loops. I would recommend its use as a substitute for more traditional practices if you experience sadness or numbness after meditation, as well as to help you ground yourself in case of an unexpected negative reaction.
There’s one more form of traditional mindfulness — the body scan meditation — that also involves turning your attention inwards, to the sensations in various parts of the body. Unlike some forms of breath-focused meditation, the target or anchor is a moving one. This can help people who struggle more with the stillness aspect of sitting meditation and less with interiority.
What I do not recommend is trying to force yourself to practise stillness-based, inward-focused meditation. Please do not push through a meditation sitting if you experience numbness, floating, or a sense of unreality. These and other symptoms that suggest depersonalisation and derealisation may require professional help from a mental health professional. You may also benefit from practising mindfulness in closely supervised settings where the mindfulness teacher can track your nervous system as you meditate.
This same advice holds good for people with depression, or a past history of trauma and dissociation. Mindfulness can be a wonderful tool in adjunct to care from qualified health professionals and supervised mindfulness practice.
In conclusion, while mindfulness can help with emotional awareness and be a valuable adjunct to medication and/or counselling for those with a history of trauma and depression, we must remember that it is possible to access mindfulness in a way that suits our temperament, history and past experiences. It is not mandatory to meditate in the traditional way to access the benefits of mindfulness.
This is one of a series of articles exploring why you may feel worse after meditation. You can read an overview here.
A Disclaimer
Before we close I want to be transparent about the fact that I have not myself experienced sadness or depression after meditating, so this article isn’t written from my own lived experience directly. However, as a self-aware human, there are many situations in which I have exhibited a similar behaviour of avoiding something important to prevent myself from feeling sad, upset, or disappointed. Some examples of things I avoided – starting a sketchbook practice, exercising regularly and even starting this blog – I procrastinated for over 2 years to avoid feeling the disappointment of having no readers! So I have a measure of understanding of human avoidance, and yet acknowledge that this particular scenario has nuances I haven’t experienced.
I also want to state that while I am a surgeon, and my medical studies included psychiatry as a subject, I am not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. My understanding of emotions comes from my keen interest in humanity, my own experiences, and my personal reading and studies that span the fields of neuroscience, mindfulness and trauma, as well as psychology – specifically Jungian psychology.
To be explicit, I am not qualified to give medical advice about depression or affective mood disorders and will never do so. What I offer in this blog post is a lens to aid self-understanding. If it resonates, it may help you to access the benefits of mindfulness and meditation; if it does not resonate, please do not let this piece of writing and reflection supersede your lived experience. In case you suffer from depression, I strongly advise you to seek professional help in the form of counselling and/or medications in addition to the suggestions here.
