The Surprising Gift of Stillness

In a world filled with constant noise, being alone with your thoughts can feel… unsettling. We’re so used to filling every spare moment with inputs that silence often feels like something we’re desperate to avoid.

But what if that very silence is precisely what we need?

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with spending 15 minutes a day simply being with myself, walking or driving without books, podcasts, or any background noise. Just me, my thoughts, and the world around me. And to my surprise, this simple practice has turned out to be not only comforting but also fun and unexpectedly inspiring.

Being with yourself is a superpower worth cultivating because it can regulate your nervous system, ground you, curb the need for coping behaviors (like overeating), and spark creative ideas.

How stillness supports nervous system regulation
Our nervous systems are constantly bombarded with stimulation. News headlines, social media alerts, and even the endless stream of content we willingly consume can keep us in a state of chronic low-grade stress. When we practice being with ourselves, like walking without headphones, driving without the radio, or folding laundry in silence, we give our nervous systems a much-needed break.

Stillness allows your body to move out of “fight or flight” mode and into “rest and digest” mode. Your breath slows. Your heart rate evens out. You start to notice the world around you: the birds chirping, the breeze on your skin, the rhythm of your footsteps.

This regulation helps create resilience. The more often you practice, the more comfortable your body becomes with calm. Over time, you’re less likely to feel frazzled, anxious, or impulsive.

Breaking the cycle of maladaptive coping
When we’re dysregulated, we often reach for quick fixes:
🍰 That second piece of chocolate cake.
🍷 The extra glass of wine.
📳 A mindless Instagram scroll.
📺 Binge-watching instead of resting.

But these behaviors rarely address the root cause. They provide momentary relief from discomfort. By learning to sit with stillness, you train your body to tolerate (and even enjoy) calm and quiet. This reduces the compulsion to seek comfort through food, screens, or other coping mechanisms.

It’s not about depriving yourself. It’s about building internal capacity. The more comfortable you are in your own skin, the less you need external distractions to self-soothe.

The creative magic of unstructured thinking
Here’s one of the best surprises I’ve discovered: being alone with my thoughts can be super creative.

Without a podcast telling me what to think, my brain starts offering up all kinds of ideas:

🔹Business strategies I hadn’t considered.
🔹Creative projects I want to try.
🔹The perfect way to rearrange my closet.
🔹Random little “aha” moments that seem to come out of nowhere.

When your mind isn’t being constantly fed, it finally has space to roam, solve problems, and generate fresh ideas. It’s like giving your brain a playground.

It’s easier than you think (and it’s fun!)
If this all sounds a little intimidating, let me reassure you: it’s way easier than you think. In fact, it’s kind of fun.

I’ve been shocked at how much I enjoy my silent walks. Far from being boring or scary, they feel peaceful, grounding, and even relaxing.

The anticipation is always worse than the reality. We assume silence will feel unbearable, but once you start, it’s oddly comforting.

How to start
1. Start small: If 10 minutes feels impossible, start with 3. Set a timer and walk, drive, or do chores without any background noise.
2. Stick with it:  Like any habit, it gets easier the more you practice. Aim for a few minutes daily and increase as you feel comfortable.
3. Celebrate your progress: Even a few minutes is a win. You’re training your nervous system and rewiring your habits.

In a world that constantly encourages us to consume more information, more entertainment, and more inputs, choosing silence is a radical act of self-care.

Being alone with your thoughts isn’t something to fear. It’s a gift you can give yourself. 

Lauren