Listen for Whispers, Laugh Loud

Life is loud.
It is as if we are collectively making our way across Times Square; no matter what direction you’re heading you are going against a current of bodies, some notice you, some are oblivious to their bruising impact as they hustle by. There are always those trying to get your attention, some in blatant and naked appeals to center the spotlight on themselves. (Literally wearing nothing but paint or a guitar.) We are bathed in a constant wash of light and sound, pulsing from all sides. Whispers are hard to hear.

Whispers can seem futile in this too loud, too fast, too saturated world, but secrets aren’t for screaming. We whisper our secrets. The good ones and the bad ones. We whisper shy joy and private pain. We agonize over when to reveal them or spontaneously blurt them out afraid the moment might pass. When the whisper is intentional we may huddle with a disclaimer or directive to never tell. Sometimes the whisper is released on a breath, tethered to a hope that it’s dark and cold enough to be seen as if camouflaged in a winter exhale. These are the most fragile whispers. They are almost on another frequency, accessed only in stillness. You sense them more than hear them.

This week was a bustle of things to do. There was work that tested new skills and triggered old anxieties, holiday preparations and shuttling around town for curbside pickups. And then things got super still. A sudden silence as whispers of death crept through circles of social media.
I’m not going to get into any specifics, but in the heartbreak of the last few days I’ve speculated on ‘what ifs’.

This has not been an easy year to survive. Doing it alone is a challenge, even amongst the most thriving of solitary souls. I have whispered to a few that being with my family saved my life. I won’t speculate on the hyperbole of the statement, I’m focused on gratitude. I’m grateful for the bonds I have because I recognize that for some family ties are more a source of pain than solace. That’s why a tribe of friends and fellow travelers are as dear as kin. I’m grateful for that family too. It’s taken time to seek and find the listeners. Whispering my most fragile truth is the hardest thing to share, even with the people I love most. Sometimes those whispers catch with the breath in my throat. I swallow and hope for another moment to find my voice.

There’s another kind of whisper. The whisper that comes from the shadows.
It comes in all kinds of styles and potencies. They are outrageously innocuous or subtly venomous. They do not bear repeating but they echo. They torture like tinnitus. They are as maddening as a Siren’s wail and impossible to share. To be clear, I am not presuming to offer any kind of mental health advice. That would be beyond pompous/laughable/stupid. There are trained experts for that. My battles with depression have anointed me with nothing but stories to share. There is solace in sharing our stories and experiences.

An antidote for my viperous whispers has been the love laughs of my tribe. The best laughs are rooted in shared vulnerabilities, the recognition you’re not alone. Laughs rooted in love. They have been morbid, mocking, silly, nerdish, cackling feasts. To gather and laugh lifts the darkness. My tribe and I had to reimagine how to gather. When we laugh together we battle together. When we laugh loud we silence the noxious buzzing. My tribe is an army of smile soldiers.
My nephews have unwittingly been enlisted. They have no idea but our laughs are worth a thousand sessions on a couch. I posted on social media an encouragement to ‘find your smiles’. I meant find your tribe and hold them close, whisper your secrets and laugh with your whole being. And listen. Life is loud. When having conversations at a crowded party, we can give up instead of asking for someone to repeat themselves a third time. Ask. It might be the charm. Things get missed, you might hear important things the fourth or fifth time. Learn to hear the unsaid. Listen with your whole being, your gut might hear something your ears missed.

Holidays are loud, there is a lot going on. Listen for the whispers. Be a smile soldier. Check in with your tribe. Keep your tribe strong. We are the sum of our parts, and we really are stronger together. Make your moments count friends. xo

If you need an ear there are options,
in the US:
The Samaritans, call or text anytime, 877-870-HOPE (4673)
Suicide Prevention line, 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

in Canada:
Suicide Prevention line, 1-833-456-4566 
Hope for Wellness, 1-855-242-3310, available to Indigenous peoples across the country, available languages are English, French, Cree, Ojibway, and Inuktitut

If you prefer texting just text 741741 for a crisis counselor at the Crisis Text Line (US + Canada)