Clearing My Head

October 1st 2020

Trying to write when it feels natural to do so.

When I lay in bed at night, that’s when I think the most. When the room is quiet except for the gentle rattle of my ceiling fan and I’m laying in the calming blue and pink lights. This is when I check in with myself.

I guess I just thought that I’d have come to peace with a lot of things by now. I thought that once you were over a situation that that was it and you’d stop feeling it. But I’m starting to wonder if I have ever really stopped feeling it. All the things I’m over, why do I still feel them?

And it isn’t a conscious feel where a certain thing sends me into a whirlwind of nostalgia and discomfort where old feelings resurface and I find it hard to focus. No, it is more of what I’d describe as a subtle humming. This really deep low vibration that I feel somewhere in the back of my skull telling me I feel a certain type of way. What type of way? No too sure, honestly.

Sometimes I wonder where the lack of peace comes from. To be happy in current circumstances and recognize the flaws of the past but still feel this subtle twing of unrest is bizarre. Because I know how I feel and I know how I’ve been and I know how I’ve grown and I’m happy, mostly. And I wouldn’t go back to the way things were if someone handed me the opportunity in a silver platter. That isn’t what the hum is.

I think the humming comes defect of my own mind, a self-created flaw. The far reaches of my unconscious mind trying to pull energy back to the place it had been directed to for so long that I no longer allow it to go. But why? Why can’t that energy be redirected into my passions.

Why doesn’t my mind hum for a good book? Or a late night drive? Or hours of yoga and meditation? Why does that subtle sound at the back of my head push me to remembering things I have chosen to put behind me? Why not allow me to focus on my own growth, which I have done so much of? Why do things linger so long?

And this humming isn’t for one thing, but many. For an era of myself where I feel as though I was at my weakest. In quiet moments out with friends, I find myself staring at the moon thinking of the night drives where I’d stare out the window daydreaming of a moment that would never come. A moment where a switch flipped and I felt like I was doing it right and my effort was finally seen.

I spent a long time working myself into the ground silently. Chipping away at tons of problems, both real and perceived, hoping that one day it would just fall into place. The day I wouldn’t leave a meeting and drive home in silence. The night where I wouldn’t roll over and stare at the small gaping hole in the wall and feel for it. I felt like that hole in the wall a lot. No real explanation why it was there, mildly unsightly, a low-priority defect that no one bothered to fix. I stared at that hole and the red glow of the alarm clock a lot. Just thinking about my next move, my plan to fix these things I felt like I broke that were never mine to fix.

Then one day, I was free. I never saw that hole in the wall again and, with some time, I stopped feeling like it too. I stopped staring at the clock before bed and slept full nights again. Meetings DID get easier and I drove home with the music playing, enjoying my own company again. I made friends, made plans, made time for me.

I climbed out of the hole in the wall into a new life I’ve been very proud of but that hum is still there. I’m happy, I’m proud, I’m slowly becoming who I know I am and I am excited for it. But most of all, I’m excited for the day I finally enjoy a quiet moment staring at the moon and hear nothing. No hum, just blissful silence.


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Jess, 25, yogi, believer in things, book worm, shy, aspiring human of Earth. I like to spend my time on a yoga mat, typing away with my thoughts, or taking pictures of anything and everything. Stop on by for everything from self-care to book reviews to fashion posts and more!

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