For most of my adult life, a silent mind has absolutely terrified me. Something that should be peaceful, calming, and serene, instead causes my body to tense up, and sends my heart racing.

If you look at nature, silence can be a warning. There’s natural noise in the whisper of the wind, the bristling of leaves, birds chirping, animals scurrying, etc. When the sounds of nature’s creatures stop, it can mean predators are just around the corner.

For humans, specifically this human (me), peace and silence has always been short lived.  

If I look back on my childhood, it’s not hard to pinpoint the moments my anxiety started to manifest in a noisy mind. I kept myself busy in school, joining as many clubs as I could, doing as many activities as possible to keep myself distracted in my day to day. When I would lay my head down to sleep at night, I struggled to close my eyes since sleep was when the nightmares came, and things went bump in the night. Lack of sleep led to more distractions during the day just to keep me awake, and the cycle was nonstop.

That continued through college, and after college when I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I knew my brain had some unaddressed -ish it needed to deal with and manage.

But a noisy mind was my safe space. I didn’t know how to make it stop. I didn’t WANT to make it stop, because the fear of the silence was greater than the pain I already knew. It was comfortable – an old friend who kept me company for so many years of my life. Silence also meant slowing down, and I had lived my entire life on full throttle. How was I supposed to embrace the opposite of everything I had known?

At the core of it, I didn’t fear a silent mind, I feared what that meant for me. It meant peace. It meant releasing control. It meant living a life full of present moments instead of a life full of reflective ones. It meant opening myself up and allowing myself to feel emotions again. Not ones that were clouded over or closed off, but a full depth of emotions, ones that could elate me or destroy me. I had spent over 10-years doing the exact opposite, always finding the next things to worry about. How was I supposed to embrace a silent mind when it had always been my enemy? When a noisy one had been my constant companion?

The noise kept me safe in a time when I desperately needed it. It helped me survive some of the worst moments of my life by allowing me to always think ten steps ahead. Worrying about the next thing and planning the necessary solutions. It protected me, and now, it was hurting me.

I feared that the moment my mind went silent, and my life settled into a state of peace and calm, it would all be taken away from me. I had lived so long in survival mode I truly believe that if I stopped, my life would end.

I needed to keep moving even though my soul was tired, and everything was screaming at me to stop. To not force my way through life, and slow down.

You can’t force your mind into silence. You can’t cover your thoughts with an imaginary hand or lock them in a soundproof room. The only way to a silent mind is through the noise. Anything else is like covering your ears in the middle of a club. It dampens the sound, but the noise is still there waiting for the minute your arms get tired and drop back down to your sides.

I tried my hardest to “force” my brain to comply. To shove the noise into a compartment in my mind and pretend like it didn’t exist. Every moment I shoved it away it shoved me right back. Eventually the fight reached unbearable levels and the pressure snapped. We were both left exhausted and afraid, staring at each other wondering where we went from here.

The noise is something that must be held and acknowledged. Much like a childlike version of you that is flailing and screaming as you try to embrace, you must hold onto it tightly through all its suffering. It is a version of you that desperately needed reassurance. A version of you that needed someone to say, “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

It is only through acknowledging the untouched pain and discomfort that is causing the noise that you can find a truly silent mind. Not a silence built on unsteady ground, or through avoidance of pain and suffering, but a silence built by embracing all sides of you. Embracing all your fears and your uncertainties. All your anxieties, and the unknowns.

It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel grief over the loss of that comfort. It’s okay to feel heavy and uncertain. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay. Thank the noise for getting you this far, and let It know you’re going to take it from here, one slow step at a time.

Do not expect perfection of yourself. This noise and the constant reminder of your fears and your anxieties has been a part of you for as long as you can remember. Be gentle with it, and with yourself. If it comes back, do not be afraid. Acknowledge it, and ask it, why have you come back? Is it because there’s something that was left unaddressed that needs to be acknowledged, or is it simply because your old self is seeking comfort, and this is the only way it knows how?

Hold on tightly to the noise as many times as it takes for your silence to come. It may feel disheartening as it comes back again and again but notice how each time it leaves the mind gets just a little bit quieter. A little closer to silence. A little bit closer to feeling heard and understood.

If you have the means, please, please, PLEASE consult a professional to help you through this journey. Whether that’s an actual professional, a professional best friend who is also a wonderful safe space, or a professional family member (who is also a safe space).

It can be scary, and not too many people talk about the weight of the fear and grief that comes from choosing to walk away from what you’ve known your whole life. Anxiety is very real. Depression is very real. We live in a world full of overexposure and overstimulation and our bodies were never made for that.

We were made to live a life full of silence, and peace. We’ve just forgotten how.

Be gentle with yourself. Be gentle with each other, and remember, I’m sending you all my love.

YOU GOT THIS.