All the noise, noise, noise! At the risk of sounding like the Grinch, what I wouldn’t do for a little bit of silence. Both kids talking, no yelling, at me at once. Baby screaming. Breast pump whooshing, microwave beeping, kids listening to two different audio book in different rooms at high volume, laundry buzzing, phone ringing. I know my kids think everyone they say is important, but so much of it feels unnecessary and just fills the air with cacophony. They are hurt and offended when I don’t listen to every word and don’t acknowledge or better yet fulfill every request and demand.
If it sounds like I’m complaining, I’m really trying not to. I know that someday my house will be filled with too much silence and I will miss them. But sometimes it feels like some kind of torture. Rapid fire questions that get louder and louder when I don’t immediately respond over the sound of the shrieking baby who is crying for reasons I can’t figure out or I would do something to stop it if I could. Then the accusations begin, “you don’t love us. You don’t care about us. You don’t listen.”
How do I explain that yes, I do but sometimes my sleep addled brain can’t decide which simultaneous comment to address before another is added to the pile.
The introvert in me is feeling emotionally claustrophobic. I need quiet within not just on the outside. A time to rest my mind instead of being filled with racing thoughts that I can’t even quiet formulate and process because my ears are overstimulated. I need to learn to quiet—the verb not just the noun. To actively quiet my soul, even when I can’t control the chaos around me. I don’t know how I will do this yet, but I want to learn how, which I suppose is a start.
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