Meditation has become something of a universal prescription for emotional well-being. Feeling anxious? Meditate. Overwhelmed? Practice mindfulness. Struggling with difficult emotions? Learn to sit with them.
But what if sitting with your thoughts actually makes you feel worse?
In a fascinating article in The Atlantic, “When Meditation Makes You Feel Worse”, Olga Khazan explores research into the potentially harmful effects of meditation. Psychologist Willoughby Britton, who initially set out to study meditation's benefits, began encountering people whose experiences were quite different from the peaceful clarity we typically associate with mindfulness.
Some reported increased anxiety, insomnia, or depression. Others experienced dissociation, emotional numbness, or a disturbing sense of disconnection from themselves and the world.
Perhaps most troubling was the tendency within some meditation communities to interpret these reactions as part of the process—as evidence that the practice was working, rather than a sign that something might be wrong.
None of this means meditation is inherently harmful. For many people, it can be enormously beneficial. But it raises an important question: Why are we so quick to assume that something helpful for one person must be helpful for everyone?
The Problem With Prescriptions
This question extends well beyond meditation. It gets at something fundamental about how I understand psychotherapy.
People often come to therapy hoping for answers. They want to know whether they should leave a relationship, confront a parent, change careers, set a boundary, or learn to let something go.
And understandably so. When we're struggling, it can be comforting to imagine that someone else knows the right thing to do.
But good therapy isn't about telling people how to live.
A therapist can offer perspective, identify patterns, ask difficult questions, and help someone recognize possibilities they hadn't considered. What we cannot do is presume to know what is best for another person simply because we have clinical training.
We are all shaped by different histories, relationships, temperaments, vulnerabilities, and desires. What feels liberating to one person may feel destabilizing to another. A boundary that is necessary for one relationship might create unnecessary distance in another. Even an intervention as seemingly benign as meditation can have profoundly different effects depending on the person practicing it.
There is no universally correct way to navigate being human.
Curiostiy Over Certainty
One of the most valuable things a therapist can bring to the relationship is not certainty, but curiosity.
Rather than telling someone they need to establish firmer boundaries, we might explore why saying no feels so difficult, what the relationship means to them, and what they fear might happen if they behaved differently.
Rather than insisting that someone practice mindfulness to manage anxiety, we might become interested in what happens when they turn their attention inward. Does it bring relief? Does it intensify their distress? Does it evoke something unexpected?
The distinction matters.
When we approach people with a predetermined solution, we risk overlooking the complexity of their experience. We may even inadvertently communicate that if a particular strategy isn't helping, they simply aren't trying hard enough.
But the failure of an approach to help someone doesn't necessarily represent a failure on their part. Sometimes it means the approach isn't right for them.
And sometimes understanding why something isn't working becomes more valuable than the intervention itself.
Therapy as a Collaborative Journey
I think of a therapist less as someone holding a map and more as a guide accompanying someone through unfamiliar territory.
We bring knowledge, experience, and an understanding of the psychological landscape. We may recognize patterns, notice obstacles, or help illuminate paths that aren't immediately visible.
But the terrain belongs to the person navigating it.
Our role isn't to determine the destination or insist on a particular route. It's to help people develop a deeper understanding of themselves so they can make choices that feel authentic and meaningful to them.
This doesn't mean therapists should be passive. Good therapy sometimes involves challenging deeply held assumptions, confronting uncomfortable truths, or offering a perspective that feels difficult to hear. But those interventions should emerge from an understanding of the individual, not from a rigid formula about how people ought to think, feel, or behave.
The therapeutic relationship itself should be a place where uncertainty can be tolerated, different possibilities explored, and even the therapist's ideas questioned.
Making Room for What Works for You
The meditation research offers an important reminder that even our most well-intentioned approaches to mental health deserve scrutiny.
Something can be beneficial for many people and still be wrong for a particular individual. Two people can struggle with seemingly identical symptoms and need very different kinds of support.
Perhaps one of the most meaningful things therapy can offer is the freedom to discover what is true for you, rather than another set of instructions about who you should become.
Because ultimately, the goal of therapy isn't to teach people the right way to live. It's to help them better understand themselves and find their own way forward.