The noise was never just noise
In the house you grew up in, someone was always talking over someone else. Your mother called your name from three rooms away. Your father argued with the television. Your aunts debated dinner at a volume that suggested lives were at stake. And underneath all of it, you were loved. You knew that. The noise was not a sign that something was wrong, the noise was the sign that everyone was there, that the house was full, that you were held inside something larger than yourself.This is the first thing your nervous system learned: presence sounds like volume. Love is audible. A quiet house is an empty one.You didn't decide this. Your body did, long before you had the language for it. The limbic system is not a philosopher. It takes what it's given and builds a map. Your map said: when people who love you are nearby, there is sound. When there is sound, you are safe.
