I teach meditation. I’ve been practising for over a decade. It has genuinely transformed my relationship with anxiety, helped me sleep better, and given me a steadiness I didn’t have in my twenties. I believe in it deeply.

And I need us to stop recommending it like it’s a magic pill.

“Have you tried meditation?” has become the wellness world’s equivalent of “Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Someone’s going through a divorce? Meditate. Dealing with grief? Meditate. Struggling with clinical depression? Just sit with it. Breathe.

It’s well-intentioned. And it’s often unhelpful.

When meditation can actually make things worse

Here’s something that doesn’t get talked about enough: for some people, in some situations, meditation can increase distress rather than relieve it.

A 2024 study published in Clinical Psychology Review found that approximately 8% of people who try meditation experience adverse effects, including increased anxiety, depersonalisation, and re-traumatisation. For people with a history of trauma, being asked to sit quietly with their thoughts and body sensations can be the opposite of healing — it can be retraumatising.

Dr. Willoughby Britton, a clinical psychologist at Brown University who has studied meditation-related difficulties extensively, has noted that the “just meditate” advice ignores the reality that contemplative practices can surface difficult psychological material that people aren’t always equipped to handle alone.

This isn’t an argument against meditation. It’s an argument against treating it as a one-size-fits-all solution.

The privilege problem

There’s also a practical issue that the wellness industry tends to gloss over. Meditation, as it’s typically presented, assumes you have quiet space, free time, and a nervous system calm enough to sit still.

If you’re a single parent working two jobs, telling you to wake up early and meditate for twenty minutes isn’t helpful advice — it’s tone-deaf. If you’re in an abusive living situation, telling you to “find stillness” is almost cruel.

Meditation works best when your basic needs are met. When you feel safe. When you have support. Recommending it without acknowledging those prerequisites is a form of spiritual bypassing — using wellness language to avoid addressing material reality.

What I wish we said instead

When someone tells me they’re struggling, I try to ask questions before offering solutions. What kind of struggling? Is it situational or chronic? Have they spoken to a professional? What has helped them in the past?

Sometimes the answer genuinely is meditation — or some form of mindfulness practice. But sometimes it’s therapy. Sometimes it’s medication. Sometimes it’s leaving a job, setting a boundary, or getting a proper sleep assessment.

Here’s what I’d love us to say more often:

“That sounds really hard. What do you need right now?” Instead of jumping to fix-it mode, just acknowledge the pain.

“Have you talked to someone?” Normalise professional support. A psychologist, a counsellor, even a GP as a starting point. In Australia, you can get a Mental Health Care Plan through your GP for subsidised sessions with a psychologist. It’s not perfect — wait times are long in many areas — but it’s a starting point.

“Would you like company, or would you like space?” Sometimes people don’t need advice at all. They need presence.

“Meditation has helped me with [specific thing]. Would you want to try it together sometime?” If you do want to recommend meditation, make it specific and make it relational. Don’t just throw it at someone and walk away.

A more honest conversation about meditation

I teach meditation because I’ve seen what it can do when it’s the right tool at the right time for the right person. In my classes in Brisbane, I’ve watched people’s shoulders drop, their breathing slow, their faces soften. It’s beautiful.

But I’ve also had students who needed to stop. Who found that sitting in silence made their anxiety spike. Who needed movement, or talk therapy, or medication before they could benefit from contemplative practice. And that’s completely okay.

The wellness world needs more honesty and fewer blanket prescriptions. Meditation is a practice, not a panacea. And the most compassionate thing we can do when someone is suffering is to meet them where they are — not where we think they should be.

So the next time you’re tempted to say “Have you tried meditation?” — pause. Ask a question instead. Listen to the answer.

That, funnily enough, is the most mindful thing you can do.