Self-Care A-Z: Sound Self-Care Advice—Listen

by Stephen P. Cummings, MSW, ACSW, LISW

     Some sounds just make me happy.

• My dog, Ridley the Beagle, makes a brief succession of boop noises when sleeping. Alarmed when I first heard this sound, it now indicates “all is well.”
• The needle on my turntable hits the outer edge of the vinyl album, and the speakers emit a low, quiet tone, a kind of gentle pop, confirming the needle has hit the groove. Music starts right after this sound. Again, this sound signals "all is well.”

• A pocket door in our house slides in-and-out. When someone comes home, the quiet swoosh of the door opening announces their arrival. Again, a welcome sound.

Noise

     I think about sounds a lot. I'm one of those people who can hear the pictures I see.  Perhaps most of us can. With certainty, I can tell you that some sounds are hard for me to tolerate. The random, loud percussive BLAM of fireworks is definitely one example. I dislike balloons for the same reason. As a child, I dreaded birthday parties. They often included many balloons and games where you had to deliberately pop them. Get outta here with that!

   When caught up in work, or life in general, I multi-task a lot—not a good thing. With me, it includes noises. One person talking captures my interest, but two or more shuts it down. This describes the normal environment of a classroom, of course. Facilitating conversations requires that students be allowed to be heard, not talked down to or shouted over. I'm referring to the tendency for discordant sounds to overlay each other. Maybe this description sounds like your home; perhaps the nature of multiple voices is welcoming. I struggle, especially when several voices create cacophony. My anxiety rises reflexively. It's not that I'm frustrated with people; I just want to be attentive, and when noise layers up, I'm overwhelmed.

Just Listening

     That's why much of my self-care approach involves just listening. I didn't fully realize how much I rely on this approach until last year, when I discovered how effective sleep stories were for my overall anxiety reduction (more on that, shortly). Here’s how the general process works.

• Exercise some basic environmental control. I probably have the most control over my environment when I'm driving alone, or in my office, or in other quiet spaces. If space is limited, I use noise cancelling headphones connected to some form of a playback device. Some headphones that block out a little of the world aren't terribly expensive.
• Access sounds that connect. Sounds that bring us pleasure can cover a broad spectrum. If I need something to calm me, but not pull me in too deeply, I'm a fan of the "lofi' music genre, which I often play when writing or grading. All kinds of music can pull me into active listening, bordering on an out-of-body experience. I include audiobooks here. The aforementioned "sleep story" genre is fascinating. I never thought, as an adult, I'd fall asleep to stories about train rides, performed by a soothing voice talent, but I've yet to make it through Erik Braa performing "The Nordland Night Train" without drifting off.
• Commit time. All self-care requires commitment; time is a fundamental commitment. In our noisy world, intentional listening requires commitment.  
• Practice just listening to others. As an act of self-care, this suggestion may seem counter-intuitive. Routinely, we do a lot of listening. It's possible to listen to those close to us, or even those we don't know well, without expectation of anything more than our presence. Especially during these pandemic days, for those of us who aren't quite ready to re-enter the world’s daily minutia quite yet, the act of listening to others is a simple, affirming gift. Just listening can provide the opportunity to connect with people in meaningful ways.

    Before this endless lockdown, I’d be writing this reflection at my university campus coffee shop. The sounds of people going about their day, the soft chatter and music in that environment, nurtures my well-being. I hope to return to that relationship with sound. I miss it. For me, listening gives me those connections. Meanwhile, I welcome the boops, pops, and swooshes. I hope you do, too.

Stephen P. Cummings, MSW, ACSW, LISW, is a clinical associate professor at the University of Iowa School of Social Work.