. - Contributed

Is it just me, or has 2020 had an upset tummy it's been taking out on us since its arrival? Bless its heart, it clearly ate something in the latter part of 2019 that's not agreeing with it. Some higher power needs to send it to bed for a few days to sleep off whatever this is.

It's only February and there have already been a multitude of incidents that have filled me with as much helplessness and despair as I felt the time I learned my husband likes the song Gangnam Style. (Sidenote: we've decided to work through it for the sake of the children.)

So I'm re-visiting the art of meditation. A friend who I admire for his dedication to mindfulness was very encouraging. He recommended several free apps to get me started. A few nights ago, I decided it was time.

To mark the occasion, I turned on the diffuser with an essential oil from the Indulgence Collection that I found in a discount bin last year. And indulgent it was: each of the three scents - ambitiously named Joy, Love Potion and Rejuvenate - smelled like everyones great-aunts perfume. I chose Rejuvenate, because it sounded the most meditate-y. It immediately made my lungs and eyeballs burn - probably with rejuvenation.

Remember, my mindful friend had told me, Dont meditate lying down unless you are fully awake and alert. I remembered this at bedtime, already delirious with exhaustion. So lying down seemed like the way to go.

Relax, I willed myself. Focus on the sound of your breath. Ignore the fact that the room smells like a 1950s ladies luncheon. Clear your mind...

Seriously though, how hard is this pillow? Has it always been this hard? Why is my skull suddenly not sinking into the memory foam? (Pause to check and adjust/punch this obvious imposter of a pillow.)

Now zone out

Why luncheon, though? Is it not just lunch - is there a difference? I guess its just a pretentious lunch. With perfume and cucumber sandwiches cut into tidy, white, crustless triangles...

God, I'm hungry

No. Heather. Focus. Feed your soul, not your gullet (said no meditation guru ever).

As my brain alone was obviously not going to get me to zen land, I opened one of the recommended apps and randomly selected a session called, "Connect with Spirit Guides Meditation."

I should have clued in but, to be quite honest, it was late, I was tired and the picture accompanying the session was a cool, swirly cosmos thing so: seemed legit.

You see, there is one thing that terrifies me more than wild animals. More than choking. More than airplane turbulence. More than the thought of my life partner enjoying Gangnam Style OK, so there are a lot of things that terrify me. But none as profoundly as the paranormal.

Yes. I'm afraid of ghosts.

Many people describe such encounters as beautiful and peaceful; they, in fact, seek to connect with these spirits, to communicate with them.

I, on the other hand, would call 9-1-1 if I even thought I heard a voice from beyond, no matter how serene. My husband once farted in the shower and, from the bedroom, it sounded like a woman's voice calling my name from downstairs. I stopped breathing for a good minute and almost swallowed my tongue.

As soon as the teacher/guide described welcoming spirits, I immediately sat up and moved to change the session.

Try it, said my husband, encouragingly, without deflecting his gaze from the sports highlights on his phone, as he lay next to me. Its not scary. Itll be good.

(I think my husband is secretly into ghosts.)

Hes right, though. Not only will I be more at peace and more mindful, I will be doing something that scares me! And isnt that something someone once said were supposed to do every day? (Sidenote: it was Eleanor Roosevelt).

I was ready for it. Until it got real.

"She's approaching from your right." OK (I was already sweating), so we know it's female. Grandma? I could see my pulse under my eyelids. J was lying on my right. Oh God, is there a ghost sitting on J? If something touches my right hand, I will never recover

Relax, Heather. Just keep your eyes closed. Embrace this.

"It is now standing behind you." OK, not only was I unclear about the ghosts preferred pronouns (she versus it), I was struggling with the suggested spatial arrangement. All that was behind me was the headboard Is it in the headboard?

Dont look at the headboard, Heather. Because if you do and you see a face, you will never unsee it.

Just breathe. Picture Grandma. Not Pennywise. Grandma. Not Pennywise. Who is that? Grandpa? That's fine, just not Pennywiseand definitely not the girl from The Grudge!

As fast as I could picture a spidery lady clinging to my ceiling above the headboard, I shut the whole thing down. Im no guru, but Im pretty sure meditation isnt supposed to feel like imminent doom.

For what its worth, I tried again last night. It was a guided meditation for sleep, so I was allowed to lie down. I only got through the first couple minutes because I fell asleep - so: success!

I am going to keep trying. Maybe cool it with the discount aromatherapy. Maybe select sessions that use the words beginner and relax in their descriptions. More peace and tranquility, less Fear Factor.

Its a work in progress. Just like 2020.

Heather Huybregts is a mother, physiotherapist, blogger (www.heatheronarock.com), YouTuber and puffin whisperer from Corner Brook, NL. Her column appears biweekly.

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HEATHER HUYBREGTS: When your attempt to meditate scares you - TheChronicleHerald.ca