Whatever makes you happy

I spent five days in silence, not as an escape, but as a confrontation. It was the final step in a mindfulness teacher certification, but also something deeper. A reckoning I didn’t realize I needed.

The first couple of days were uneventful in the way meditation often is. You sit. You breathe. You return to the moment. Again and again.

At one point, a teacher gently reminded us to relax the belly. That single cue caught me off guard. As a veteran, I’ve been trained to do the opposite. Stand tall. Tighten the core. Suck it in. Letting go of that was its own kind of vulnerability.

By the third day, something unexpected happened. A song started playing in my mind, loud and uninvited. It wasn’t the peaceful ambient hum one might expect in a retreat setting. It was Creep by Radiohead.

I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo...

It had been there since the first day, I realized. I just hadn’t noticed it. It lingered at the edge of my awareness like background static. But now, it was front and center, and with it came a flood.

Not just music, but emotion. Thought. Planning. Panic.

In the silence of that retreat, I could no longer pretend I wasn’t standing at a precipice. I’m a federal employee. I have tried to serve with integrity in an increasingly politicized environment. Now, I find myself staring down a choice: to speak up or stay silent, to remain within the system or step outside and say what I know must be said.

I don’t belong here...

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’m weighing the timing of a possible resignation while walking the tightrope of federal restrictions on political activity. I want to follow the rules. I really do. But the same government that would penalize me for speaking a few weeks too early is led by a man with 34 felony convictions.

My heart raced. My breath shortened. I found myself wringing my hands, fingers laced like old enemies, desperate to pull away.

Run, run, run...

That was the moment it peaked. The panic, the tension, the pressure to decide. My body reacting before my mind could catch up. And in that chaos, I saw it clearly.

I wasn’t looking for an escape. I was looking for freedom. Freedom to say what needs to be said. Freedom to call out what’s broken. Freedom to serve in a way that no longer requires permission.

I stopped feeding the thought. I exhaled, audibly, intentionally. The hands unclenched. The breath returned. And with it came a small, subtle smile. Not forced. Not performative. Allowed.

Whatever makes you happy...

There’s no such thing as a perfect moment. But there is clarity. There is courage. And there is a path forward, one I am preparing to walk.

I haven’t made an official announcement. But I know this. Silence had its season. That season is ending.