When the Noise Finally Hits

True listening means letting the message land before you rush to respond, fix, or move on.

If jumping to respond, fix, or move on were an Olympic sport, I’d have at least a few gold medals by now. I used to think that was a good thing — being able to act quickly, move forward, get things done. I mean, who has time to sit around and not do something?

But here’s what I’ve realized: action has never been my issue. I do. I handle. I solve.

It’s the why behind the doing that’s been a little fuzzy.

Intentional action? That’s where I’ve had to slow down and get honest.

Hence the race I never signed up for.
Hence the misalignment.

This time, I’m trying to let the message land before I leap.
(Okay… maybe not all the time. But I’m working on it.)

The Message
So what was the message, exactly?

A few months ago, two things happened — both unexpected, both kind of life-altering.

First, we found out we were having another baby. (Shocked — but good news!)

Second, I found myself in the middle of a professional shake-up I didn’t see coming. A shift that made me pause — and not the good, reflective kind of pause. The what is even happening right now kind.

I didn’t choose it right away.
I waited. I hoped. I held on — probably longer than I should have.
And then the door closed. Fully. Loudly.

That’s when I realized I had a choice — not in the outcome, but in the response.
I could resist it, or I could let it redirect me.

And slowly, I started to see that maybe… this pause wasn’t the end of something.
Maybe it was the beginning of something better aligned.

So I stepped back.
Not because I couldn’t do it all — but because I didn’t want to anymore.

And even though it felt right, it still hit hard.
Because stepping away from something you’ve poured yourself into — even when it makes sense — still kind of stings.

The Spiral
I wish I could say I handled all of this with grace and perspective. That I eased into this transition with mindful reflection and deep breathing.

But… no.

At first, I just froze. Like a deer in headlights. This version of my life didn’t fit the plan — and I love a good plan.

Then came the overthinking spiral. The late-night what-ifs.
The “Let me fix this before I feel it” energy.

And because I’m wired for motion, I immediately kicked into fix-it mode.

I started doing, researching, scheduling, planning — trying to stay three steps ahead of whatever might come next. I told myself I was being proactive, but really, I was just panicking in a productive-looking way.

Eventually, I hit a wall.
The noise got too loud. I ran out of energy. And when I finally stopped trying to outpace it all, I just… sat with it.

Not comfortably. But still.

And somewhere in that stillness, the questions changed.
Not How do I fix this? but What is this really about?
Not What’s next? but What matters right now?

That’s when the message started to land.

The Noise
It wasn’t until everything got quiet — painfully quiet — that I realized just how loud things had been.

Not on the outside.
On the inside.

The noise wasn’t just reminders and responsibilities. It was everything underneath them — the pressure, the stories, the self-imposed expectations. Things I’d gotten so used to carrying, I didn’t even know they were heavy anymore.

But once I slowed down, I started to hear it all. And it was... a lot.

The Mental Noise
The endless to-do list running on a loop.
The voice that whispers you have to do this and what’s next?
The scenarios you play out in your head — the off button I’ve never been able to find.

The Emotional Noise
The I’m not okay — but that’s not an option.
The must keep going even though I have nothing else to give.
The I don’t even know what my needs are, never mind putting them first.

Not loud like a siren — just a steady hum that you can’t quite shake.

The External Noise
The inbox.
The group chats.
The social scroll.
The opinions, the comparisons, the subtle suggestions of what should be done.

Most of it isn’t even malicious. It’s just... constant.

The Old Narratives
This one wasn’t loud — it was steady. Ingrained. Automatic.

Keep moving forward.
Failure is not an option.
It will always get done — because it has to.

I didn’t question these. They weren’t mantras — they were facts.
They got me through a lot.

But they also kept me from slowing down long enough to ask:
Should it get done?
Is this still right?

Sometimes, even the most trusted inner script needs to be rewritten.

The Shift
I didn’t notice any of it until I finally stopped moving.
And even then, it took a while to realize what I was hearing.

But once you start tuning in, it’s hard to tune back out.
You realize how often you’ve been reacting instead of choosing.
How much space the noise takes up.
How long it’s been since you actually asked yourself what you need.

I haven’t figured it all out. Not even close.
But I’m starting to listen — really listen — and that feels like a good place to start.

Now, when things start to feel loud (which is often), I try to ask myself:
Is this truth, or is this just noise?

It doesn’t always give me a clear answer, but it slows me down enough to look for one.
And it reminds me that listening isn’t just something I do for other people — it’s something I owe to myself, too.

Because sometimes, the real message doesn’t show up until the noise settles.

And if life feels a little noisy for you right now… maybe give yourself a second to pause.

Not forever.
Just long enough to let the message land.

Who knows what you might hear?