Nhu nguyen

Seven months ago, I was sitting at my desk at home in Leiden, the Netherlands, gazing out through the large window as the yellow NS trains passed by one after another, bustling and unending. There were five tabs open, a cozy Xmas music running in the background, Outlook pinging every few minutes, and my phone lighting up with yet another message. I was in a very challenging situation when the unexpected company restructure happened while the visa renewal process was pending. And no matter how comfortable the ambient I tried to create to calm my nerves, I was overwhelmed.

Despite years of thriving as a communication professional in dynamic, high-pressure environments, there were still moments when I found myself drowning in noise. One part of me stayed calm — methodically listing tasks, trying to regain control in this unease scene. But another part was pulled in by the constant hum of voices, responsibilities, and unfinished thoughts. I kept telling myself it was time to focus. And focus isn’t just about cutting out distractions — it’s about finding clarity in the midst of chaos. That’s when I made a choice.

The Noise I Carry

Leaving Vietnam in the midst of the pandemic, I spent the three and a half years navigating the many challenges of life abroad — from online classes and lockdowns to Europe’s housing crisis, an unbalanced job market, the struggle for visa sponsorship, and now the ripple effects of shrinking humanitarian funding. I was constantly in motion, chasing deadlines, absorbing information, and trying to keep up. But it was also deeply fulfilling — I met new people, told meaningful stories, and built communication strategies that strengthened knowledge and partnerships. For years, I find focus from the wave of life. Yet, when life threw curveballs, this time I knew I needed stillness to reflect, to heal, to find direction again. When my visa neared its end, I chose not to jump into the next job. I returned to Vietnam, picked up threads I had left behind, finally had some times with mom in the hospital, and gave myself space to pause.

Many of us, included myself, often talk about craving peace and quiet on weekends or during vacations. We long for stillness, imagining that silence will restore us. But the truth is, we spend most of our lives surrounded by noise — not just literal sound, but the constant stream of information, decisions, responsibilities. From managing finances to crossing off daily to-do lists, we’re immersed in motion. And oddly enough, that noise becomes a kind of comfort. It tells us we’re alive, that we’re moving, achieving, growing, glowing, keeping pace with life. It signals progress, or at least, an effort. In a way, the noise becomes both our burden and our badge of honor. It’s not just distraction, it’s a reminder that we’re participating in the world, and somehow managing to hold it all together.

But over time, that constant hum can turn into a roar. The notifications, the deadlines, the pressure to always be “on” – they pile up until the very noise that once made us feel safe begins to blur our sense of direction.

The World Got Louder When I Slowed Down

In the years leading up to that pause, my life had been filled with motion: PR launches, campaign deadlines, travel for global events, and rapid collaborations. It was exciting and inspiring to wake up every morning. During those seven months, I didn’t just stop working. I just started creating space for writing, revisiting language course I neglected for a long time, walking 30 minutes in the gym everyday, attending online courses, and talking with my mom as we used to when I was a kid. I sat down to write all of my expectation for my next jobs, how far I would go and how many new skills I want to learn to grow in this path. For this time, I reconnect with my own voice without filtered through briefs, expectations, or results.

I am also less noisy on social media. I cut my phone usage to 1 hour 15 minutes per day (according to the latest report on my phone this Monday), but still manage to update all the news I want to know. I write more with some silly ideas, as if my life were to turn completely different from what I expected. And what if the idea I started years ago seems doable again, where would I start?
I wasn’t cutting out all the noise. It was about choosing which signals I let in.

And yes, it is my case, but you don’t need a silent retreat to find focus in life. You need to pause long enough to ask: What do I want to give my attention to?
And then, slowly, deliberately, build your version of quiet in the middle of the noise.

I have found what I want to do after this period, where I want to live, and how far I am willing to go on the journey. I still aspire to pursue a career in communication, to make people love the brand as much as I do. The only thing that changes is that I re-enter the world with a fresh intention to be surrounded by noise and still be intensely focused by listening to the right voice inside. I choose to look at the world more widely and softly, prioritizing the environment that lets my thoughts breathe.

Because in a world that pulls us in a thousand directions, choosing to listen inward, even for a moment, is an act of courage.