Noise

In an anxious mind, there is constant noise. Background sounds that serve no purpose except to perpetuate the anxiety.  At times, the hum recedes and is a mere whisper. But often the pitch is piercing, impossible to ignore. I hear it gaining traction, climbing decibel by decibel until it takes over and becomes deafening. I’m incapable of listening to reason, I can’t hear it over the noise. If only reason were equipped with an amplifier, if only it could reach the volume required to break through. But it isn’t and it can’t. And I’m crippled. 

I can’t remember what it’s like to think clearly. To not have my thoughts interrupted and drowned out by the noise. So much of my energy goes towards trying to filter it all out. It’s hard to discern which thoughts are my own and which are invaders; difficult to know what I really want, how I really feel. At times, it is impossible to tell. Maybe this is why I seek quiet. Why quiet is so crucial for recharging. With the constant racket inside me, it doesn’t take much to reach my noise limit, that point when I’m simply unable to tolerate any additional insult to my already overworked mind. Just as my capacity for added panic is low, so too is my capacity for added noise. When the outside world is quiet, there is hope of breaking through the inside static. When the outside world is loud and chaotic, I don’t stand a chance. 

I used to love being busy. I craved that sense of accomplishment that accompanied a packed schedule. And when I did have free time, I still wanted to be surrounded by people. I wanted to be out amongst the crowds, the conversations. Making new friends, collecting fun stories. I felt energized by the excitement of it all. Maybe I was trying to avoid the noise in my head. Trying to fight it off, push it aside. If my mind was always occupied, I didn’t have to listen to the roar inside me. But over time, the roar got louder. I couldn’t compete, my tactic wasn’t sustainable. 

When my schedule was no longer loaded with an assortment of commitments, when I stopped bouncing around between school, work and play, I could no longer occupy my mind in the same way. I began working full time in a mentally demanding job, so I was still busy, but only using one part of my brain. Previously, after a day of classes, I could turn the academic part of my brain off. Back then, I worked two jobs, both essentially mindless but with very different environments. The work itself was different, the way in which I interacted with people was different. When one part of my brain became fatigued, when the noise in my head began to overpower the outside stimulants, I had an out. I could easily shift my focus. In fact, I was forced to because I had obligations that required it. Even outside of my obligations, I was part of a variety of social circles, each one with a unique dynamic eliciting different aspects of my personality. But when my work and school amalgamated to become my career and the number of social circles shrunk, it became increasingly more difficult to block out the noise. My defense slowly crumbled and eventually the noise took over. 

I have no choice but to hear it now. The remaining outside distractions no longer drown it out, they add to it. Blocking it out, pushing it aside, fighting it off; these are no longer options. Now, I have to sit with it. I have to take it head on and focus my energy on trying to figure out why it’s there in the first place, where it gets its power. To break through the sound barrier and defeat it, I have to cut off its energy source. Although, maybe it's unrealistic to believe that it could ever completely subside. Fighting for that impossible feat may only serve to drive me to insanity. Maybe taking away its power will simply mean learning to coexist with it, embrace it even, not defeat it. I may never be free from the noise, but that doesn’t mean I have to continue to be debilitated by it. I need to find peace within the noise.