It's loud in there

It’s hard to describe the things going on in our heads. All the things swirling around: the worries, concerns, tasks still to be done, the open ends, the conversations still to be had, the overflowing admin, the blue envelopes from the tax office needing attention.

And then there are the thoughts, the constant echoing, overruling thoughts. Going from past to future to present, all connected to the rollercoaster of emotions. Happy, sad, joy or sorrow. One can, as I can, feel lifeless while my mind spirals in all these thoughts, emotions, ideas, concerns, fears, hopes and dreams.

There’s a scene in a series I particularly like called “The Bear” about a restaurant and two chefs trying to turn it into a Michelin-star-worthy establishment. In one scene, the main character is trying to reconcile with his now ex. While sitting on the porch, he’s explaining all the things going on in his head, fumbling with his words, and she gently responds with,

“It’s loud in there,” referring to his mind and head.

He nods and says yeah.

She then responds with,

“It’s loud for me too. It’s loud for everyone. I wish you let me in on the noise a little.”

As much as I know about self-compassion, self-care, meditation, mindfulness, and physical activity and its benefits, they are often hard to put into practice during periods of high strain, lack of sleep, and, subjectively felt, overwhelming responsibility. Some days when I wake up, my head can feel like it’s about to explode; How can I put into words how loud it can actually get in my head? It’s a hose that is uncontrollably spraying all over the place with no beginning nor end, just chaos all over, and me sitting in the midst, staring at the ground.

Even now as I write this, I first made a list of perhaps more than fifty items pending or needing attention. Not now, not all urgent, but definitely ones I need to, and want to, get done. And I freeze in the next thought, where the fuck do I start?

As much as I want to take things slow, move from one thing to another, singularly focused, ‘slow is smooth and smooth is fast’ kind of language I often use myself, it can get so loud up there that I convince myself the self-care needs to be skipped since I need to tackle this mountain of shit. So feeling wired and tired, I get to work, attacking the tasks, not always one by one, often a few at a time, because I convince myself multitasking works.

There lies the trap: the ‘doing versus being’ paradox we continuously talk about. Where all the lists and tasks will not solve this ‘loud in there’ experience. I remember the time I went to the gym almost every day, very much pre-kids, and that hour plus the coffee I’d drink with friends after would distract me from all the chaos going on inside me. I had a chance to sort things out and give it a bit of rest, which often helped me leave feeling a little lighter and more open to tackling the challenges I was facing, no matter how big they were. This was the time I meditated every day and even journaled; man, I had a lot of time then 😂

At this moment, I try carving out the space and time for some personal practice: meditation, writing and when possible some light physical activity. If I don’t, the noise will consume me, and it does. Think of a surfer trying to get back on the board but washing up each time, staying in an endless swirl, only barely getting my head above the water, only for a short breath to be sucked back in.

The practice teaches me this: although it’s loud, I first need to be okay with that it is there, to realise it is a part of me but it does not define me. To release and not resist, somewhat like one must when doing a cold plunge. Not to fight, but to accept it and surrender.

Yes, it’s loud. All the thoughts, the voices, all of it.

And if I take a deep breath and another, perhaps the noise will get a little quieter.

Just a tad.

And once it quiets, once I can sense my body and become slightly more conscious, that is when I can feel a light sense of peace enter, like a gentle cool breeze on a very warm day. Something refreshing that takes the edge off.

It’s loud in there, yet I also feel the silence too.