Lately, I have been intentional about turning down the noise. The past few months had left my mind in a constant whirlpool of thoughts and worries, and I found myself caught in it, struggling to find my way back to solid ground. It began to affect my focus at work, and I became so overwhelmed that I barely had the energy to talk to anyone.
So when I finally found that small window of opportunity to step back, breathe, and reclaim some quiet, I took it–and I knew I did not want to return to the way things were.
Simplifying my digital space
I started with a digital sabbatical.
The first 24 hours were rough, if I were to be honest. I did not realize how tightly tethered I had become to social media until I noticed my fingers automatically jumping from one app to another, almost like clockwork. And because I had resorted to the extreme measure of deactivating my accounts, my fingers suddenly had nowhere else to go.
The restlessness was almost sickening. But somehow, I got through it.
By the time I got past that first day, the days that followed felt like a walk in the park. I noticed that I had gradually gotten out of the habit of looking for my phone simply because there was a spare moment to fill. That was when I allowed myself to reconnect, slowly and deliberately, just to see how far I had come after a couple of days of being away from social media.
This time, I wanted to do it with more intention.
I decided to stay active only on apps I felt were useful to me, like Messenger, while remaining passive on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and X, which had increasingly felt like nothing more than the doomscroll. And might I just say–the peace was addictive.
I was able to purge the urge to post updates about the minutiae of my daily life because, for me, not everything needs to be shared. But I have not allowed the quiet to turn into cynicism, either, which is why I have not gone ghost. Some things can simply remain mine–experienced without the need to document them, announce them, or measure how people respond.
That, for me, is what turning down the noise looks like: staying present without constantly curating my life for an audience.
Simplifying my inner space
As my days grew noticeably quieter after the digital sabbatical, I was left alone with my thoughts and feelings. I naturally began turning inward. With that came journaling, which slowly became part of my routine.
Routines are good–no, they are great. I cannot imagine my life without having one to fall back on, especially at the start of each day. I tend to wake up at exactly 6 a.m., make my bed, greet my dogs, eat breakfast, drink coffee, and prepare for work.
But now, somewhere between my morning coffee and getting ready for work, I have made room for journaling.
Call me performative all you want, but if I am going to sit down and have a conversation with myself, I might as well give myself the full production. I am absolutely down for good music and flattering lighting when I journal. My work setup at home faces my bedroom window, so I open the curtains and let the sunlight in. The view of the sky and the neighborhood completes the trifecta.
I usually start with one simple question:
What is in your head?
And then I write whatever comes to mind. All my worries, feelings, half-formed thoughts–I put them down.
Unlike a conversation with another person or a post online, my journal does not require me to make sense before I speak. I can write anything without worrying about judgment, rejection, or whether my thoughts are too messy to be understood. They can arrive exactly as they are. Because that is the point of writing, at least for me: I do not have to have everything figured out before I put it into words. I write so I can begin to figure it out.
Simplifying my work space
Allowing ourselves some breathing room before opening our work inbox and notifications is underrated. I used to start my day by going through emails and replying to urgent messages simply because I thought that was what should take priority. But here’s what I realized: by opening that Pandora’s box at the start of my shift, I was letting other people’s requests, problems, and urgencies into my head before I had even had the chance to settle into my own.
So after journaling, when my focus is at its peak, I begin tackling the more demanding tasks on my plate. I work as an analyst, and much of what we do happens in our brains. It is simply not sustainable to expect our brains to operate at full capacity for eight hours straight. Over time, I have learned to pay attention to when my mind is at its sharpest, and I now try to make the most of that window. I reserve those hours for tasks that require deeper analysis, allowing me to work through more with greater efficiency before my focus inevitably starts to wane.
When I have finished handling the heavy tasks, which I try my best to finish before my lunch break, that is the only time I check my emails. And honestly speaking, nobody has ever died because I allowed myself a few hours of breathing room. The emails will still be there. My brain, however, deserves a fighting chance.
Simplifying my physical space
The quieter my mind became, the more I started noticing the spaces around me.
I came across a study suggesting that visual clutter and chaos restrict our ability to focus and process information. It made absolute sense as I noticed that when there is clutter in my surroundings, I find it difficult to concentrate on what I am doing.
With that, I have become more intentional about organizing my things and decluttering my space. Almost like a ritual, I vacuum my room, wipe away the dust that has settled on my desk, and put everything back where it belongs. So far, I have been enjoying the process. Completing a small task and seeing it contribute to a more organized and tidy space gives me satisfaction. Beyond that, I feel rewarded with greater focus and a sense of being unencumbered.
–
Turning down the noise is not really about disappearing completely. In fact, it works the other way around. By simplifying these aspects of my life, I have found myself feeling more connected, more present, and more attuned to what is happening within me. There is freedom in realizing that not everything deserves your attention and that not every inch of your life needs to be filled.
Space is good. Doing nothing is good. Because when you leave enough room for silence, you begin to hear yourself more clearly.
And for once, I like what I hear.
Leave a comment