Sitting in Silence Is Surprisingly Loud

At home, quiet is suspicious.

It usually means someone is doing something they absolutely should not be doing, and I should probably investigate.

I’m used to noise. Kids yelling. Someone needing something. Running around the house trying to meet everyone’s needs while remembering whatever the hell I was doing before someone called “Mom!”

So you’d think some time alone would feel amazing.

And parts of it did.

But sitting alone in my hotel room in California, with nobody needing me and nowhere I had to be?

That was surprisingly hard.

Apparently, my thoughts had been waiting for a meeting.

I traveled alone. Flew alone. Stayed in my own hotel room. I did group activities, but there was also plenty of time when it was just me.

And in some of those quiet moments, I wanted to cry.

There was no next task to jump into. No little voice interrupting my thoughts. No household chaos pulling my attention somewhere else.

I had time to notice how I was actually feeling.

And apparently, I had a lot of feelings.

The chaos at home can overwhelm me, but I realized it can also keep me distracted. There’s always something to do, something to solve, someone to care for.

When that all got quiet, the feelings I hadn’t had much time for got loud.

I missed my family. I felt uncomfortable. I was excited to be there and unsure what to do with myself.

Sometimes all of that happened at once.

Very efficient of me.

The hardest part started before I even left.

The day of the trip, I questioned everything.

Do I actually want to go?

What am I doing?

Should I just stay home?

Knowing I would miss moments with my kids was hard. Traveling on my own felt scary. There was a very convincing part of me that wanted to stick with what was familiar.

But I had decided to do this, and I wanted to follow through.

So I went.

I took the flight. Stayed in the room. Joined the activities. Sat through the quiet moments, including the uncomfortable ones.

I’m proud of myself for that.

I didn’t have to feel completely confident to do something that mattered to me. I could be nervous, miss my family, and still keep going.

Missing them didn’t mean I’d made the wrong choice.

That’s something I want to remember.

I can miss my kids and still want to be there.

I can love being their mom and still have things I want to experience, create, and work toward for myself.

Motherhood changed my life in enormous ways. It didn’t cancel every dream I have for it.

I’m working toward something I’m incredibly proud of. Building a business while working and raising a family takes determination, and I’m learning just how much of that I have.

There are things I want to pursue even when the logistics are a pain in the ass. Even when I feel guilty. Even when part of me would rather stay

where I’m comfortable.

Those wants deserve a place in my life, too.

I want my kids to see me try.

I want them to know how deeply I love and care for them.

I also want them to see me care for myself.

I want them to see me work toward something I believe in. Ask for what I need. Take a chance. Be scared and figure it out.

I hope that when they want something someday, they remember that their mom went after things, too (cue the tears!)

That she cared for people and had ambitions of her own.

That sometimes she needed a little room to hear herself think—even if she wasn’t entirely prepared for what she heard.

I’m still learning how to sit with that quiet. I don’t have a beautifully wrapped lesson about how peaceful it all became.

Some moments felt good. Some felt emotional. Some made me want to book the next flight home.

But I went, and I stayed, and I gave myself time to feel it.

That took strength.

And I’m starting to give myself credit for it. 🤍

A little something to journal about: When you finally get a quiet moment, what comes up for you—and do you give yourself time to hear it?

Much love,
Monica
In Her Boss

In Her Boss

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