Finding Quiet in the Noise.

by Nikki Parnell — February 24, 2021

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Winter is a funny time. It’s darker, colder, and a time associated with quiet and rest. The earth is hushed under blankets of snow or heavy frosts before growth comes with spring. We go inward more, sheltering from the brisk air, hunkering down. But the quiet and rest we long to embrace can be difficult to find when you’re a parent and the cold darkness outside means you’re spending more time trapped indoors with children.

So, where do you find quiet? Where do you find rest?

There is the obvious. Quiet found in the escape. In the car when the carseats in the back have brought their passengers to loving babysitters and are now devoid of human weight, all they hold are the crumbs from yesterday, some sand from our latest beach trip and a forgotten toy or two, played with on the drive and then left behind.

There is quiet on the trail, under the tall pines. As I bounce along on a bed of soft dirt and fallen needles, flowing freely in my own rhythmic movement. There is space there to notice the sounds of nature, of my breath.

Sounds. Not noise. There’s a difference.

There is quiet in the snow. Once I’ve navigated past the bustling parking lot, past the weekday nordic crew, and am skating down the wide corridor reconnecting with my skis and poles and glide and grace. I keep going, fumbling from time to time with form, fatiguing quickly on the steep uphills but pushing on to find what I’m looking for. A little off-shoot, a narrower trail less traveled than the main thoroughfare. Arms and glutes and quads all burning at this point, but there it is. And down I go. To a place, any place, where I can stop. To breathe deep, to reach the total silence. All I can hear is my heart beating in my chest, fully alive and loud. I can hear nothing else. Out there is only snow and trees and cold air and self. And the slight taste of metal on the tongue, a reminder of my lack of ski shape, that I don’t do this nearly enough. 

Triggered by Noise.

There is a new common word in this world, especially after the last year we’ve all had. It relates to mental health and what disrupts our inner stability. No, the word is not new, but it’s used now maybe more than ever before because of its potency, its place in our lives; how much more aware we have become of it. The word is “trigger.” When an object or action or event becomes a stimulus and initiates a reaction inside of us. Something triggers an emotion from deep within. We are activated, set off, provoked. What we normally keep buried comes out.

In the parenting world, there are many common triggers we experience because there is such a great amount of stimulus coming at us from all directions at all times. There is mess and energy and problems to solve and needs to meet and worries to stew over and lists to do. And I think they all funnel into one category: the greatest trigger, which is the noise. There is so. much. noise. A mess is noisy. It yells in your face. A to-do list is noisy. On paper or in your head it talks to you and urges you not to rest until something gets done.

And of course, the audible noise – the yelling, shrieking, high pitched enthusiasm. You love the little souls that you cohabitate with but wow! How does one so small make a noise so big? Even the joyful noise can pierce the ears, make you squirm. And it all comes down to the distraction and interruption from your head space and inner calm. As I write this my daughter, who woke up early, is calling for me from her crib, needing one thing or the other and will keep calling me until each need she thinks of is met (she wants her pink paci, not her blue one; she wants her purple jammies, not the pink ones she’s currently wearing… and on and on and on).

When the noise is so great, so intrusive, there is no hope in having a complete thought, you are rendered useless. There is no protection for a thought bubble. No ring of steel or armor to ensure a continued linking of ideas. No lineation.

So the question becomes how to find quiet amidst the chaos? Because let’s face it, we can’t always be alone in the woods and while the squawks of our children can trigger madness, we love them too much to be away for long. 

Do whatever you can to find the quiet whenever you can.

I get up early. There’s nothing more peaceful than a quiet house. It allows you to breathe before the pitter patter of little feet come sounding down the hallway, looking for you. To start the day by yourself, with yourself, at your own pace is crucial.

Next, I ask for help. This is hard to do because we want to be superheroes (and we are in so many ways) but what’s more beautiful than being super is being human, and being real with ourselves and others. To live fully in this world we must be vulnerable. To have relationships where you can really see the other means that you must let yourself be seen too.

I also try to remember that my needs and my kids needs can dance together in this life as we move through the rhythm of the day. It’s okay for you to need some time too, not disengage from your family completely, but maybe you don’t have to engage AS MUCH. And equally, children need time for independent play too. So in this waltz of unique needs spinning around each other, I lovingly shove the kids out the back door and let them do their thing while I get some time to do mine.

Lastly, I TRY to breathe through the chaos. Noise triggers the alarm center in our brain. It puts us on edge, calls us to react. You feel it in your bones. But 9.5 out of 10 times, the tumultuous uproar is not born out of a dire circumstance. We need to trust in those moments that everything will be okay, that this is not an emergency. Things will calm down and they’ll calm down faster if everyone is breathing. Kids are more in tune with their bodies than we think and they feel the effects of a deep breath as much as we do. So we must remember that breathing can be a lifeline, and if we practice it, we can help our kids learn of its powers too. 

In times like these, when everything feels so overwhelming, it helps to remember that we have power within us to take back some of the control we feel we have utterly lost. Finding quiet times, creating quiet times, and using our breath to help us through the noise. I hope to not feel buried by this time in life like the earth under the snow. I want to feel rested coming out of this winter so that when spring’s energy finally comes, we can welcome it with open arms, and grow.

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