I’ve realized for awhile that I nearly never live in moments of silence. There seems to be ongoing noise in every single environment. The radio is playing, I’m having a conversation with a three year old, or my inner dialogue just never quits.
The “noise” is not unwelcome. I love music and I especially enjoy chats with Caleb these days. But I wonder sometimes if I’m a little afraid of the silence. Quiet times are the moments when my inner dialogue goes into overdrive and allows all the thoughts, pleasant or otherwise, to come flooding in. Worries about what’s coming next, what if scenarios regarding treatment options or the next best decision for Gage. Feelings of melancholy that may be easy to suppress if I just play a song and sing along instead of leaving space for silence.
Noise, in whatever form, is a distraction from things that are hard to think or talk about, or just plain hard to feel. But even as I put these words into writing, I realize the value in quieting the noise. Sometimes I need to feel the hard things, think about the hypotheticals, and just process all the things instead of suppressing them, burying them under more noise.
What I really crave is an inner peace…calm…quiet. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine what that would feel like. True silence. To quiet the noise both outside and within.