Noise Addiction: Why Silence Heals Your Mind and Home

Growing up in a family of five, there was hardly any time for quiet. Honestly, the only true quiet I remember was when we were asleep. I got so used to the hum of people and activity that, as a teenager and even through much of my young adult life, I didn’t enjoy being by myself. I even remember feeling afraid to stay home alone, afraid of it being too quiet. Don’t get me wrong, I’d occasionally sneak away when I was upset or irritated, but even then, someone else was always in the house, just not in the same room.

Recently, I was chatting with someone about going deeper in prayer and meditation, and how much of a blessing it is. My husband and I decided to try something simple with our children: we prayed together and then sat in silence for half an hour. When the timer rang, we each shared how we felt. As I listened, I realized that many of us, each in our own way, are addicted to noise.

My family shared that as soon as they tried to sit quietly, they immediately began searching for

sounds inside the room, outside the window, or even shifting and fidgeting just to make a little noise. Then there was the louder noise, the mind, listing everything we “should” be doing: You could be doing the laundry. You still need to finish that homeschool lesson. The kids admitted that familiar songs started playing on repeat in their heads, and ideas for anything else that would beat sitting in silence began to parade through their thoughts.

That evening left me wondering: why are so many of us addicted to noise? Why do we keep playing something in the background: TV, podcasts, YouTube, music, while we do nearly every task? Why do some of us move from one activity to the next until only exhaustion forces us to stop? Is it possible that all this sound and motion is a shield keeping us from the stillness where we finally have to meet ourselves (and God)?

The Whisper That Changes Everything

There’s a short, powerful moment in Scripture that speaks about this: 1 Kings 19:11-13. Elijah, exhausted and discouraged, is looking for God. A great wind tears through the mountains—but the Lord is not in the wind. Then an earthquake, but not there either. Then a fire, but still not there. After the fire comes a gentle whisper—a “still, small voice.” There, Elijah encounters God.

I love that picture. We often expect God to meet us in the dramatic—big music, big moments, big answers. But Elijah found Him in the quiet. I imagine that fear was a very loud and distracting noise surrounding Elijah at that time due to the impending death threat from Jezebel. Yet, God placed him on a quiet mountain to speak to him, not in the noise (even the noise within creation), but in the stillness. Silence really is golden; it speaks loudly about the things in our lives that need tending, if we’ll let it.

How Noise Addiction Affects Us

• We numb instead of notice. Constant sound can soothe, but it also keeps us from noticing what hurts and what needs healing.

• Our attention shatters. With noise always on, focus becomes a stranger. We multitask, do all the “things” until burnout.

• We ignore soul signals. Anxiety, fatigue, and conviction get drowned out by playlists and to-do lists.

• Prayer gets crowded. We talk at God more than we sit to hear from God.

• Shallow connections. When silence feels awkward, honest conversation can feel scary. We stay on the surface.

• Reactive communities. If we never pause, we respond from adrenaline instead of wisdom and compassion.

What Silence Gives Back

• Clarity: Stillness helps truth rise to the top.

• Courage: We meet the thing we’ve been avoiding and discover we can survive through it

• Compassion: Quiet hearts listen better

• Creativity: New ideas love open, quiet space.

A Gentle Challenge

For the next 7 days, try this simple practice alone or as a family.

1. Set a time: Choose the same 15 minutes each day.

2. Prepare the space: No TV, phone, or music. Soft lighting. Sit comfortably.

3. Breathe: Inhale slowly for 4 counts, exhale for 4. Let thoughts pass without chasing them.

4. Listen for the whisper: What rises when the noise falls? A nudge? A name? A next step?

5. Journal one sentence: “Today, the quiet showed me ______.”

6. End with gratitude: “Thank You for meeting me in the stillness.”

Family version (5–10 minutes): Set a timer. Everyone sits quietly. After the timer, each person shares one sentence: What did the quiet show you today? As each person shares, make it a point to attentively listen. Always end with gratitude.

If Silence Feels Hard

That’s okay. Withdrawal from noise can feel uncomfortable at first. The desire to reach for a device or to “do something” is part of the process, not a failure. Be gentle with yourself. You’re learning to hear again.

Elijah learned that God wasn’t in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire but in the whisper. Maybe the same is true for us. Maybe the answers, the healing, the next faithful step aren’t hiding in the loud places at all. Maybe they’re waiting in the quiet, where silence speaks loudly about what needs our care.

What might you hear if you turned the volume down today?