I know how to be alone. At least I tell myself I do. The truth is, as much as I find contentment in being in a room by myself for hours, I have begun to notice a fact about my own personality that I’ve kept unkowingly in my back pocket since I was a child: Silence is loud. Too loud.
It has only been in the last three or four years where I’ve felt the conviction to begin surrounding myself with a community for the betterment of my spirit. And as I’ve made it my mission to pursue that, God began to reveal to me that I have a significantly strong dependance on the comfort of television, the internet, and music. The idea of eliminating all of these distraction for an evening brings about a taste of anxiety that cannot be explained. Or maybe I can explain it. Maybe I know that if I turn the television off, I will be forced to keep my deepest thoughts, that are waiting, awkardly on the sideline in my mind, like wallflowers at a Junior High School dance, company.
If I am left alone with them, I will have to ask them to dance.
Why am I so afraid of my thoughts? There are times I can think of “legitimate” reasons on why I don’t want to be left to think. I don’t want to analyze my flaws, I don’t want to add on to my “To Do” list and I don’t want to become depresed by the fear that my life will not reach new levels.
The idea that the fear, doubt and anxiety will get louder as the distractions become quieter is too much to chance.
So, I do like any person would do when they don’t want to deal with the threat of the icky in their life. I run.
Hard. And fast. Right into a Netflix series, or a Christian blog about turning off distractions (the irony), and it is there, and only there, where I allow myself to think. When my mind is half distracted, and entertained. Where my deepest thought still sit, awkwardly waiting.
When I realized that silence was too loud for me, I knew that something was wrong. I knew it was because I was running from something, I just need to turn the noise off long enough to understand what it is.