The Quiet Voice Inside
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
I tried to fix the heaviness in my chest the way most people do by staying busy, chasing distractions, and convincing myself that the solution was just one effort away. I figured if I could just do enough, achieve enough, or surround myself with enough, the ache would finally loosen its grip. But the harder I pushed, the tighter it seemed to cling.
I threw myself into work like it was the cure-all for my restless heart. I took on every project, stayed late, and checked every box as if crossing things off a to-do list would check out my pain too. But instead of finding relief, I only found exhaustion a tiredness that no amount of sleep could seem to fix.
So, I tried the next thing: spending money. I shopped like happiness could be swiped onto my credit card. A fancy jacket here, a new gadget there things that felt exciting in the moment but sat hollow in the corner by the next day. I even caught myself laughing at the absurdity of it, wondering how I thought a pair of shoes could fill a hole that wasn’t in my closet but in my soul.
When that didn’t work, I turned to people. I said yes to every invitation, filled my calendar with coffee dates and dinner plans, and surrounded myself with noise. But the conversations, though warm and familiar, felt like background music in my life. I was smiling on the outside while feeling like I was miles away from myself.
I even tried distracting my mind with endless hobbies. I picked up random activities, hoping that learning something new might spark joy. I’d run in circles—quite literally sometimes until I was dizzy, but instead of feeling accomplished, I felt lost.
At night, I would collapse into bed, thinking sleep might reset everything. But the moment my eyes shut, the thoughts would start spinning again. Even dreams felt restless, as if my mind refused to give me a break.
I reached for books, thinking maybe someone wiser had written their way out of this feeling. I devoured stories, advice columns, and self-help pages like they were lifelines. But no matter how much I read, the words I found couldn’t quiet the ones swirling in my own head.
Eventually, I had no choice but to stop. It wasn’t some grand decision, just a moment when I sat down, too tired to try another thing. And in that stillness awkward and uncomfortable as it was I realized something important: I’d been running away from myself the whole time.
It’s funny how quiet can feel so loud when you’re not used to it. The silence practically screamed at me, pointing out everything I’d avoided. But somewhere in that uncomfortable stillness, I began to hear something else a gentle whisper. It wasn’t harsh or judgmental, just steady and calm.
That whisper wasn’t coming from outside me. It wasn’t some grand revelation or cosmic sign. It was from within, a voice I’d drowned out with all my busyness and noise. It told me, plain as day, that I didn’t need to keep running. That I wasn’t alone.
The truth is, healing isn’t about fixing everything all at once. It’s not something you can force or rush. It’s in the little moments the times you let yourself cry instead of holding it in, the days you admit you’re not okay, the nights when you choose to sit with your thoughts instead of escaping them.
The Creator doesn’t rush us either. There’s no timer ticking down, no deadline for becoming whole. The divine waits in the quiet, in the spaces where we finally stop and listen.
Looking back, I can see how much I was trying to avoid being vulnerable with myself. It’s scary to sit with your pain, to let yourself feel it fully. But that’s where the transformation starts not in fixing or escaping, but in facing.
And here’s the thing: the moment you stop running, you realize you’re not alone. That voice inside, the one that whispers, “You’re enough,” was always there. It was just waiting for me to stop long enough to hear it.
Author's Note
This reflection didn’t just come from a moment it came from a series of days, weeks, maybe even years of trying to outrun something that couldn’t be escaped. Like many of us, I thought the fix would come from doing more, buying more, or simply keeping my mind busy enough to drown out the noise. But life has a funny way of forcing us to pause when we least expect it.
I wrote this for anyone who feels like they’ve tried everything and still feel stuck. It’s a reminder that the answers aren’t always “out there.” Sometimes, the healing we’re searching for is already inside us, waiting quietly, patiently. It’s like the Creator whispers in the stillness, but we’re too busy filling our lives with sound to hear it.
If you’re reading this and feeling like you’re carrying too much, let these words be a moment of exhale. You’re not alone in this, and you don’t have to have it all figured out. Start by sitting with yourself. Listen for the voice that says you’re already enough, and trust that your journey, as messy and imperfect as it may feel, is sacred.
—Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
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