Finding Quiet in a Loud World

I’m very bothered by the political world right now. I know that everyone is. Even my 13-year-old talks politics and has had fallouts with friends over their beliefs. At 13. When I was that age, I didn’t even know what a Republican or a Democrat was. I’ve never felt like I fit neatly into a ‘side,’ and I’ve never agreed fully with everything one group stands for. Doesn’t it cloud your judgment to align blindly with everything a party believes? I’ve always kept quiet about my own views because I don’t want them to damage relationships. I have family and friends who voted differently than I did, and I simply don’t want politics to be the wedge between us. I would make a terrible activist—I know.

I want to believe that love and kindness are values we can all agree on, yet it often feels like even that is beyond reach. I’ve stopped reading comments on media posts because so many of them seem to reflect ignorance and a lack of compassion. It’s painful to see entire groups of people dismissed or condemned with broad, accusatory labels. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the wisdom in leaving some things unsaid—a practice that fosters peace rather than conflict. Still, when I encounter those harsh words, I can’t help but wonder if I’m one of the few who sees value in that restraint.

That’s why I run. I run often. For me, it’s a healthier choice than drinking, which only offers a fleeting escape and leaves me emptier in the end. Running, on the other hand, brings joy. It carries me to new places, up mountain trails, and into spaces far away from a world that often feels angry. I sometimes wonder how others quiet the noise and pain of these times. My heart aches for those, like me, who are deeply empathic—those who absorb the emotions around them but lack an outlet to release them. To those people, I want to say: I see you. I feel for you. And I’m sorry that the weight of these days is so heavy.”