Turning Up My Inner Volume: How I Learned to Escape Noise Without Leaving the Room

Escaping noise without escaping life

Photo by Zeyad Taha on Unsplash

I used to think there was something wrong with me.

Growing up in a house full of siblings, television chatter, overlapping laughter, and constant opinions, I was the one who would flinch, retreat, or beg people to lower the volume. To them, I was a “killjoy.” To me, it was survival. The noise wasn’t just sound — it was intrusion. Gossip felt heavy. Laughter sometimes carried a sting. Even subtle shifts in energy would unsettle me.

I didn’t know then that sensitivity to sound was also sensitivity to energy, to atmosphere, to the weight of people’s presence. My body was asking for silence I couldn’t find.

The Hidden Cost of Noise

Noise is not neutral. It drills into the nervous system, accelerates the heart, and erodes patience. For sensitive or introverted people, it’s more than irritation — it feels like invasion.

What others brushed off as “background noise” became for me a form of low-grade chaos. It pulled me away from my thoughts, blurred my focus, and left me anxious. And the world has a way of labeling this sensitivity as weakness or moodiness.