When Everything is Loud

one fine day in the emerald city 012Heart on my sleeve. Tongue caught in my throat. Silence. I see myself caught up in the stark understanding that every Monday I find myself pining for something lost. And it isn’t this part of me that died. Rather, it is the longing for a quiet clarity that I have yet to discover in these past couple of years.

Maybe it is the consistent shuffle and struggle through uphill battles that require all of my focus to not tumble backwards into the abyss from out of which I crawled. Maybe it is the clamor and desire to be so full of laughter and joy some days that I have overloaded myself beyond an acceptable capacity. I’m not entirely sure what it is that is pushing me in such a manner. But, I am discovering that I am swimming in a sea of loud.

My thoughts are loud. My voice is loud. My depression is loud. My frustrations are loud. My job is loud. My friends are loud (and that isn’t a stab at the people that I consider the most near and dear. It is actually an emphasis that they are very prevalent and consistent in my life and I am grateful). I am loud. Everything is loud.

I’m filled with such utter desire to run. I want to put my running shoes on and never look back. I want to run until I think my lungs, metaphorical and actual, will explode in my chest, and then push past that. I want everything to go quiet. I want to hear only the beating of my heart in my chest. I want to close my eyes and see no unfinished tasks on my ever growing to-do list. I want to see nothing but peace and serenity and tranquility.

I don’t have a place like that. I went back to Kentucky a couple of weekends ago. And that loudness only grew in volume. I came back to Indiana, thinking that shocking myself back into being here would do that, but it didn’t. I need an escape clause. I need a pause. I need life to shut up and let me sleep sometimes.

How do you quiet your spirit? Where do you go for the calmness? 

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