59: A Different Kind of Year

I’ve just turned 59. It’s my last year in my 50s—and I can feel it.

I didn’t feel different when I turned 40. I didn’t feel it at 50 either. But something about 59 is landing in me with more gravity. Maybe it's because the next birthday ends in a zero. Maybe it’s because time feels more precious lately. Or maybe it’s just because aging, like everything else in life, is not linear. It unfolds in layers, not in numbers.

The truth is, I thought I had made peace with aging years ago. I had read the books, done the inner work, embraced my laugh lines and silver hairs. But this birthday didn’t bring peace. It brought presence. That quiet, undeniable nudge that something is shifting—on a soul level.

In my teaching and in my personal practice, I talk often about the “messy middle.” It’s that place where we’re no longer who we were, but not yet who we’re becoming. It’s awkward. It’s beautiful. It’s emotional. And it’s incredibly human.

Aging, especially at midlife and beyond, is the ultimate messy middle.

Some days I feel wise. Other days I lose my reading glasses and cry in the car. My body asks for more rest. My skin is changing. My joints make new sounds. Some dreams have faded, and others are just now waking up. There’s grief. There’s joy. There’s everything, all at once.

But underneath it all, there’s the breath.

It’s what I come back to, again and again. This soft, steady inhale. This generous, releasing exhale. After all the stories, the striving, the letting go, the breath remains. Solid. Trustworthy. Present.

In meditation, we learn not to fix the mess, but to sit with it. To befriend it. To meet it with the kind of compassion we wish someone would show us when we’re overwhelmed or unsure.

That’s how I’m approaching 59.

Not as a problem to solve or a year to rush through. But as a practice. An invitation. A sacred window into what it means to age and grow. To change and stay rooted.

So this year, I’m bowing to all of it:

• To the tenderness of noticing time.

• To the resilience of starting again, every morning.

• To the wisdom of letting things be messy.

• To the quiet power of one breath, followed by another.

And maybe that’s the gift of turning 59: not that I know more, but that I’m learning to love the questions. To sit still inside the chaos. To soften into the unknown with just enough grace to keep going.

So if you’re here too—on the edge of something new, in a body that’s evolving, with a heart that still wants to live and love fully—you’re not alone.

Let’s breathe together. And see what this year has to teach us.

Meditation vs. Dissociation

Recognizing When We’re Not Really “In” the Practice

You’re sitting in meditation. Eyes closed. Body still. The teacher’s voice is gentle, the music soft. Everything looks right on the outside.

But inside?
You’re not really there.

Maybe your mind has gone completely numb. Maybe you’ve floated into a kind of blank space. Maybe you’ve disappeared from your body entirely. And maybe, someone even praises you afterward for being so “peaceful.”

But here’s the truth:
That’s not always meditation. Sometimes, it’s dissociation.

What’s the Difference?

Meditation is the practice of being present—with your breath, your body, your emotions, your thoughts—without clinging to them or pushing them away.
It’s about building the capacity to stay, even with discomfort.

Dissociation, on the other hand, is the nervous system’s survival response when the present moment feels too much. It’s what happens when the mind goes offline to protect us. You may feel spacey, disconnected, flat, or numb. Time may slip away. You might not even remember the meditation at all.

But Isn't Zoning Out the Point?

Not quite. The goal of mindfulness isn’t to “check out” or “stop thinking.” It’s to gently return to presence, again and again.

Stillness ≠ numbness
Silence ≠ avoidance
Peace ≠ absence

How to Know You’re Dissociating in Practice

• You feel emotionally flat, foggy, or cold

• You’re overly focused on doing it “right” or going “deep”

• You lose time or awareness of your body

• You feel less grounded or more anxious afterward

• The practice feels more like disappearing than arriving

What You Can Do Instead

• Open your eyes during meditation

• Try walking, movement, or somatic grounding instead of seated stillness

• Name what’s present: “I feel disconnected.” That’s awareness.

• Use sensation (holding a warm mug, placing a hand on your heart) to re-anchor

• Slow down your practice and stay close to the body

Final Thoughts

Meditation is not a performance. It’s not about getting to some blissful nowhere. It’s about being with what is—with compassion, curiosity, and care.

If you find yourself dissociating in practice, it doesn’t mean you’re broken or doing it wrong. It means your system is trying to protect you, and you may need to adjust how you’re practicing—or why.

Gentle awareness is always enough.
Come back when you’re ready.
And remember: the goal is not to leave yourself.
It’s to come home.

Spiritual Bypassing vs. True Stillness

How mindfulness can mask rather than heal pain

There’s a kind of stillness that feels like peace—quiet, grounded, open. And then there’s a kind of stillness that feels more like hiding: like holding your breath, like tensing up behind a soft smile.

The first is true stillness.
The second is what many call spiritual bypass.

🪨 Spiritual bypassing is when we use spiritual language, practices, or “good vibes only” mantras to avoid difficult emotions. We meditate instead of grieve. We chant instead of speak hard truths. We slap a “letting go” sticker on top of rage or grief or trauma that actually needs time, validation, and healing attention.

Mindfulness, when misunderstood or misused, can become another tool of bypassing. It can sound like:

“Just observe the emotion.”
“Let it go.”
“Don’t judge.”

And while these phrases can be wise, they can also shut down deeper truths if offered at the wrong time or without context. When someone is actively suffering—grieving, dissociating, surviving trauma—what they often need is not silence or neutrality, but compassion, validation, and grounded support.

True stillness is not about disappearing our pain.
It’s about making space for it.
It’s about holding sorrow or anger with tenderness, not numbing it with breath and posture.

A trauma-informed mindfulness practice doesn’t rush you toward serenity. It respects the pace of your nervous system. It allows you to feel, pause, and stay connected—without pressure to “fix” or “transcend.”

If you’ve ever sat down to meditate and felt worse afterward—there’s nothing wrong with you. You may have bumped into a part of you that needs care, not containment.

So let’s be mindful of how we practice mindfulness.
Let’s not confuse stillness with suppression.
Let’s stay present—not only with our breath, but with our whole, complicated, beautifully human selves.

Trauma Informed Meditation and Mindfulness

What It Is and Why It Matters?

A Call for Responsibility in Spiritual Spaces

In recent years, meditation has gone mainstream. You can find guided practices in your yoga class, your therapist’s office, your workplace wellness app—and even your gym. But here’s what we don’t always talk about: for some people, sitting in silence and turning inward is not calming. It can be overwhelming, triggering, or even retraumatizing.

This is why trauma-informed meditation and mindfulness teaching matters.

Being trauma-informed doesn’t mean being a therapist. It means recognizing that trauma is common, that the nervous system needs options, and that safety must be built into every practice. It means not assuming that stillness is easy. It means offering choice—eyes open or closed, sitting or moving, stopping if needed—and encouraging agency at every step.

As mindfulness teachers, we carry an ethical responsibility to create spaces that are inclusive, invitational, and aware of the hidden wounds people may carry. Trauma-informed teaching asks us to meet people where they are, not where we think they should be.

Because mindfulness is not about performance. It's not about grit or getting it “right.” It’s about presence—and for many, presence can only bloom when safety is in place.

If you’ve ever felt like meditation didn’t work for you, you’re not broken. You may just need a gentler approach, a teacher who understands, or a community that offers room to breathe.

That’s the kind of space I’m committed to creating—one breath at a time..

That Quiet, Persistent Voice

IA letter from Kim.

The courses that fill this website and newsletter were born out that quiet but persistent voice I could no longer ignore, saying: hold space for others navigating the messy middle of life and help them learn to breathe again.

For those walking through transitions—career changes based on intention or healing from burnout; relationship changes (beginnings and endings), grief (saying goodbye); menopause, manopause, and our aging bodies; parenting or letting go of grown children—and wondering how to stay centered while the ground shifts beneath them.

I’ve been there. I am there. And I’ve learned that mindfulness and meditation isn’t about escaping the mess, but about showing up for it with curiosity, clarity and compassion.

We are inclusive, and all are welcome. This is also the place where we will build a community based on curiosity, compassion, and connection. Together, we will be creating a community, a Sangha. This Sangha is a space of refuge, practice, and connection. We are not here to fix or change each other but to sit in presence, compassion, and truth — together. This will also be a confidential space. You can participate as much or as little as you want, as silence is participation as well. 

I invite you to join us. Our first Summer Bookclub starts June 9th! It's FREE for this  summer, as a gesture of gratitude for my teachers. Spaces are limited, and admission to the course is by application. If you read this after June 9th, email me and let’s chat about you joining. info@meditationwithkim.com

You can find the application by clicking the Sign Up Application button. More courses to follow in the Fall. 

In peace and stillness,

- Kim

She/ Her

Founder of Meditation with Kim