Be Quiet

I arrived home moments ago from the loud, intense world I revolve in and ran a hot bath. As I sank into the water I felt a feeling that eluded me for years. Peace. Serenity. True and utter quiet. 

Growing up I had these moments. I remember them. Being nine years old, reading a hardcover copy of an old book before bed and flicking out the lamp, sliding under the cool sheets. Feeling my eyes close over a brain that had no worries, no stress, no on-going trauma to survive. Just drifting and resting in a state of peace and calm.

The years following slowly taught me to slip into a state of constant turmoil. Dark middle school days had me trapped in a cycle of guilt, confession, and relapse. Repeat. It doesn't matter what the subject was. I felt guilty about everything. I distinctly remember feeling deep pangs of conviction while putting on mascara at age 15, because I felt vain for liking it. By the age of 17, I found myself a stressed, complex, guilt-ridden girl. Maybe the pressure was self-induced. Maybe it was a product of the Christian doctrine I was fed by so called Christian leaders in my life. 

Regardless, a pattern began early on that trained me to keep my brain in a state of turmoil, problem-solving, and self-improvement. 

Every action became spiritual, and thus, a mental game of motive analysis. Makeup became vanity. Boys became lust. Clothes became low self-esteem. Homework became laziness. Words on the radio became messages, convictions. 

Everything was taken seriously, as an indicator for something spiritual.

It was to the point where, at 17, when I closed the bedroom door at night I no longer felt that sense of calm I did as a child; I felt a spiritual battleground that was waiting for me to wrestle with my sin. Any thought was a spiritual entity, of course. Any thought against God was a doubt, any thought for God was faith, and any guilt was obviously the Holy Spirit working in me. And so I listened to every single thought- every single glimmer of idea in my brain- and immediately categorized them in some spiritual way. 

And this was not healthy.

Somewhere along the way I forgot how to be still.

My human mind, which is soft and fragile, was fighting to understand and analyze every part of itself.

I forgot how to be quiet.

I forgot how to be alone.

I learned how to live under the constant scrutiny of my own judgement and opinion. Under the spiritual forces that I so strongly believed dictated my every thought and move. I was never alone, because I was always being JUDGED. (By.... Me.) 

And my brain has learned how to carry on I this manner, keeping me trapped in a cycle of chaotic anxiety.

And of course, a sizable trauma in my life has only made things worse. A giant, "big deal" problem that my mind blames myself for has only served to strengthen this habit of constant self-analysis to the point where for the first time in my life I've experienced panic attacks, paranoia, and much more! *excited jazz hands*

So I've been going to therapy.

And something my counselor said on the very first day struck me. 

"Is your brain ever quiet?" 

I said, "no. It's not." 

"It can be," he smiled. "But you're going to have to teach it how, and that's going to be really hard."

I had never thought I could control what was going on up there *glances up into own brain*. I thought you could only stress about it.

But I'm awfully exhausted with the pattern. I've grown terrible tired of this three ring circus of anxiety, guilt, and paralysis. 

And I'm learning, slowly, how to be quiet again. 

It takes practice. There are techniques. 

But the most important thing was for me to realize that my brain can be quiet - my self analysis and critique can cease for however many minutes - and my world won't implode.

Lightening hasn't struck me.

The heavens haven't opened up and swallowed me.

I haven't become a wretchedly lost sinner.

In fact, in those hard-earned moments when I achieve true quiet, I sense God with me so much more than I do when my own brain is desperately fighting and panicking to make sense of Him and His ways through all my thoughts and feelings. 

Being quiet (truly, truly quiet) is nice.

It's important.

You should try it.

I am.