Embracing My Quiet Era.

It's Hardcore Dope. 😛

I'm in my quiet era; I told my partner after he encouraged me to make friends in the neighborhood. I'm trying to quiet the noise, and there has been an infinite amount. 

I'm in my quiet era. It's necessary after the strangest and most dangerous year of my life led to a Bipolar diagnosis. 

I don't know quiet. 

When I was younger, my dad and his friends thought they were Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince, so all night, music would reverberate through the house as they rapped over beats. 

It brings a smile to my face remembering lyrics from their “hit,” Hardcore Dope. 

🎵 “Stan, was a ladies man, riding ‘round town with the high-class clan.” 🎵

Stan would go on to lose it all and hit rock bottom. 

How?

 You guessed it, hardcore dope. Watch out for it; it’ll get you every time, especially now that it's laced with fentanyl.

After my dad left, the house remained noisy. With 5 kids, a dog, a cat, a bird, and a mom who gave kitchen concerts, whisk mic and all, peace and quiet wasn't a concept I understood. 

In college, studying in the library was agonizing. Often I would find myself leaving the library and sitting on the bleachers in the gym as basketball players practiced, and it still wasn't loud enough. 

After college, from the age of nineteen until my mid-thirties, I would work in an extremely over-stimulating industry - media. 

A steadfast "I'll sleep when I die mentality" was needed for the number of parties, concerts, and events I was required to attend. 

My life has been LOUD and a hindrance to finding my peace.

My body has finally come out of fight or flight. It's a welcomed feeling, but maintaining it takes work and practice. 

Yes. Okay. Sure. I guess. I'll try. I'll do it. 

Those were staples in my vocabulary. I've since replaced them with the following:

No. I can't. I don't want to. I don't have the capacity. That's a question for somebody else. 

I'm in love with my quiet era, but I’m constantly asked if I'm okay. People are used to the noise that once enveloped my orbit, so my calm is disconcerting. 

I. Don't. Care. 

I've spent enough time worrying about what others think about me as if what I think about myself, how I feel about myself, doesn't matter most. 

I'm quick to turn an invite down. I don't work until all hours of the night. I no longer associate with people who live in a perpetual state of victimhood. A person who doesn't want to be saved can't be. I know that from experience. I don’t participate in conversations just because. If I don’t have anything to say, I won’t force it. I don’t need to have an opinion on everything, and even if I have one, I don’t always share it.

I don't yearn for the drama and chaos that once sustained me. I thwart it like my life depends on it because it kinda does.

I’ve gotten pretty good at silencing the external noise. I’ve left behind careers, situations, and people threatening my quiet era. If a cloud bubble could follow me as it does in comics, it would read SHHHHHHHHH!

The internal noise is the most difficult to calm. I take frequent spiritual baths, have read numerous spirituality books, attended too many retreats to count, and intentionally try to hold my frequency and remain in my highest timeline. I even listen to Enya, but I have only successfully meditated once. The thoughts in my head have always been the loudest.

I’m not discouraged. If quieting everything around me took this much effort and work, the storm within me may take some time to weather.

I’m well on my way, though, because I realize I don’t need noise. Silence is just as powerful.

Quiet as it’s kept, a silent era is hardcore dope. Highly recommend it.