The Loudest Quiet Time

I had the opportunity to spend a quiet week alone (not including my cat) recently, and took the opportunity to try a little something radically different than the way I usually trudge through my weekdays. I chose to not distract myself with podcasts, or music, or getting stuck in my own thoughts. Instead, I chose to approach each task with as much focus as I was able, to actively do things that ordinarily I just run on autopilot. 

While doing chores isn’t what most consider to be a very zen-like activity, I found a sense of calm in the mundane day to day activities, just… talking to myself about what it is I’m doing now, and what I was going to do next.

When thoughts arise, and I am able to, I will acknowledge the thought as what it is and turn my focus back to the task at hand. If the thought was significant enough to warrant a strong emotional reaction, I would take a break and just sit with those thoughts, without judgment.

That’s not accurate. I am very self-critical.

Some of my thoughts are unequivocally me; sometimes optimistic, sometimes depressing, sometimes tremendously depressing, and sometimes, just curious. I ask myself so many questions that I tense up and start to feel despondent. I had no idea what to do. Something in me wants to just run, other voices suggest something a little more permanent, and I can’t shut them out. I can’t just..keep things quiet enough to catch my breath.

I wasn’t being my best, and I was beating myself up about it.

Then I was beating myself up about beating myself up about it.

I’ll be honest. I cried. I cried because so many hours of the day are spent regretting things I did, didn’t do, or didn’t do well enough. I closed my eyes tightly and put my head into my hands. My inner voice started to give me the same advice that I would give anyone else, and yet I always had trouble fully integrating it. I have no idea why. I would shut it out completely in these really dark moments and wonder what the hell I was even doing.

“Just stop. Just stop and take control of your breathing.”

In… and out.

In… and out.

I started to relax a bit. My breathing was slow and somewhat shallow, and I started talking to myself a little differently.  I gave myself compassion and acceptance, and a reality check that wasn’t harsh, but just enough to get the message across. I imagined it as another version of me, just slightly out of reach. A little older, a little wiser, and much more at peace.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says. “You’re only human, after all. You can’t always be at your best. Just take it one step at a time. It’s going to be alright.”

It’s still quiet here. I’m feeling a lot better. Okay, what next?