The Day I Learned the Word Mindfulness

Picture: actual screenshot of my phone during that time

Unsurprisingly, it came from a thick book.

After I saw the psychiatrist that diagnosed me with burnout, I began working with a psychotherapist.

We started discussing what to do next. The first step seemed simple — find time to rest. Calm the mind. Calm the body.

Simple in theory.

In practice, my routine left very little space for that. I was working full-time, raising a small child, and living in a country where I had no close friends or extended support. My husband traveled often. I was functioning — highly functioning — but constantly stretched.

So I was placed on partial medical leave. I reduced my workload from 100% to 80%.

It didn’t help.

Eventually, I reduced it to 50%. Now I had half a day “free.” And I had no idea what to do with it.

Instead of resting, I optimized. I researched the best yoga classes. The best exercise routines. The best strategies for recovery.

I treated healing like a project.

I tried to engineer my way out of exhaustion.

And I became even more tired.

At the time, I couldn’t see what was happening. I didn’t understand nervous system dysregulation. I didn’t understand that the constant drive to optimize was part of the problem.

I was still irritated by the diagnosis. Burnout felt vague. Unscientific. A label without biomarkers.

Psychotherapy helped — but my physical symptoms persisted. The pain, the gut issues, the dizziness. I still felt unwell.

I started reading about nutrition, tightening my diet further, eliminating more processed foods. I thought if I could just identify the right variable, the right input, I could solve it.

But I was still operating from the same mindset: control, efficiency, optimization.

Then my therapist did something that changed everything.

Learning how systematic and evidence-driven I am, she handed me a book: Full Catastrophe Living, by Jon Kabat-Zinn.

It was thick. Dense. Serious.

I began reading.

And then I reached the chapters describing neuroscience experiments. MRI studies. Brain imaging. Long-term meditators. Structural changes. Neuroplasticity.

I am an MRI engineer.

That was the first moment something clicked.

This was not abstract spirituality.

This was measurable change in brain structure and function.

For the first time, the word mindfulness appeared in a context that felt intellectually legitimate.

I had encountered meditation before. I had practiced yoga on and off throughout my life. My mother practiced yoga deeply — she even gave birth with minimal pain because of it.

But I had always kept a distance from anything that felt “woo-woo.” I am a skeptic by nature. I need mechanisms. Data. Models.

Mindfulness, framed through neuroscience and stress physiology, was different.

It was not about escaping reality.

It was about training attention.

Regulating the nervous system.

Rewiring patterns.

I enrolled in an eight-week Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) program almost immediately.

And the shift was not subtle.

My physical symptoms began to ease.

My emotional volatility softened.

My mind felt less chaotic.

For the first time, I wasn’t trying to optimize my way out of suffering.

I was learning to observe it.

That was the day I learned the word mindfulness.

And it marked the beginning of a very different relationship with my body — and with control.