I hear voices.
Sometimes they come in whispers. Other times they are so loud I cannot hear the real actual people.
This means I am nearly always multitasking. It looks like I am just washing dishes? Oh no, I am washing dishes and I am listening to the multiple voices battling it out in my head…
This also means that life feels much busier and much noisier to me than it sometimes actually is.
Don’t get me wrong, raising four kids is noisy. And busy. But raising four kids while simultaneously trying to make sense of the chorus of inner voices and it’s a wonder I can respond to anyone with an ounce of sense about me at all.
There are times when I can identify the source of the voice- a book I am reading will speak to me incessantly, a blogger will get stuck in my head. I will hear my dad’s voice in my left ear, my husband’s voice in my right. My insecurity voice can scream with a vengeance, and the voice of discontentment knows how to yell just as loud.
The cacophony can be defeaning. It leaves me tired and confused.
So imagine, for a moment, you are me. You are a human that craves perspective and stillness like a heroin addict craves their next hit. You know this is what you are craving because you have tasted it and it is good. You have had your moments of perspective and stillness. You have had your moments where the voices have all but disappeared and left you with what is left- peace. And clarity of mind.
If this is you, and you are tired, tired of the racket, tired of the ruckus, what do you do? What do you do when you realize the voices don’t just go away on their own? What do you do when your greatest disruption is inside your own head?
You look back to what has helped before. And you do it again.
You take your walks.
You hike your trails.
You do your yoga.
You hire your sitter and you take your mental health day. Or morning. Or afternoon.
You write your journals.
You get the words out of your head and into the hands of those you trust most.
You turn on the music that makes you feel something.
You focus on one story. The story that whatever or whoever is in front of you is telling you.
You put down your phone.
You step outside, into the sunshine or into the rain and you let something that has been around since the beginning of time soothe the big giant noises inside of tiny little you.
There is hope, my friends. Even for the likes of me.
Maybe the hope has to come first. Or maybe the action, the first step in a different direction. Or maybe hope and action always hold hands and leap at precisely the same time.
Let us hold onto hope.
Let us find our peace.
Let us rest in the quiet of a voiceless night.