There are moments when the world becomes quiet enough that your thoughts begin to feel louder.
Tonight, I sit at the dining table in the silence.
Except it’s not really silent.
I can hear the wind outside rustling the leaves on the trees.
I can hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.
I can hear the gentle yawn of my dog as it stretches after a nap.
And in this version of silence, time feels noticeable.
Life feels noticeable.
The clock keeps ticking.
Minutes pass.
Days pass.
People grow older.
Lives change quietly while we are busy trying to hold everything together.
And sometimes, in moments like this, the mind wanders into deeper questions.
What is this thing we call life?
What does it all mean?
What are we here for?
Sometimes the thoughts become even quieter and more vulnerable than that.
Would it matter if I wasn’t here?
Would anyone notice?
I think many people experience fleeting thoughts like these at some point in their lives, though we rarely speak them out loud. Not necessarily because we want to disappear, but because being human occasionally brings us face to face with our own existence, our longing for connection, and our desire to matter.
Yet these thoughts can feel frightening when we believe we are supposed to have certainty all the time.
Therapies such as CBT and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) invite us to consider that thoughts are not facts, and perhaps not even who we are. ACT, in particular, encourages us to notice thoughts rather than become consumed by them, to observe them passing through the mind like weather passing through the sky.
But that still leaves an interesting question:
If I am not my thoughts, then what am I?
I have the thought that I love the colour yellow.
When I see yellow, I feel happy.
Is the thought me?
Is the feeling me?
Or is there something deeper underneath both?
Perhaps part of being human is learning to sit alongside these questions without needing immediate answers.
Maybe healing is not about silencing difficult thoughts entirely, but about becoming less afraid of them.
And maybe, in the quiet moments, what matters most is not solving the mystery of existence, but remembering that we do not have to sit alone with it.
If any of these thoughts feel familiar to you, therapy can offer a space to explore them safely, without judgement.
You can learn more about my counselling services at Dawn Chorus Therapy
