Don’t Burst Your Eardrums
In July of 2024, I was on vacation with my family in Croatia. Dubrovnik, to be exact. Where they shot Game of Thrones. You might be familiar.
I had just finished six months of chemo in June and was looking forward to regrouping—eating seafood, swimming, letting my nervous system come back online.
It was brutally hot. Humid in a way that felt personal. (and I live in Virginia) And the stairs—my god, the stairs. I mean, they are everywhere; you definitely get your steps in while visiting.
Especially if you visit Lady Pipi. Which I highly recommend.
But as we vacationed, sweated, ate, and relaxed, something quieter was happening.
I hadn’t felt like myself for so long that it barely registered—until it was time to fly home. That’s when it announced itself.
On the flight from Dubrovnik to Amsterdam, one eardrum was on the brink of bursting. Because Amsterdam is progressive, there’s a medical facility at the airport. The doctor was calm and efficient. She told me there was nothing to be done. I would feel intense pain, and then—once it burst—the pain would subside. Thanks, doc.
I have a very specific look for moments like this.
She was right.
My eardrum burst at the airport shortly after our connecting flight was canceled. Then the other one joined in, just for fun. I couldn’t hear properly for about six months. It felt like I was underwater- that everything was coming through a Charlie Brown adult filter.
It was awful.
And here’s the thing: that’s what this moment feels like to me, culturally.
The infection is the constant drip of outrage, fear, and speculation. The pressurized cabin is the way information is delivered to us—unceasing, accelerated, impossible to escape. At some point, the system fails.
Recently, I slipped into a dark algorithm spiral. The kind that makes everything feel hopeless and inevitable. The kind that leaves your body tight and your thinking cloudy.
So I opted out.
I logged off. I took a walk with my dog. I fed the birds and squirrels in the back yard. I wrote longhand. I listened to Toni Morrison read Sula (our next book club book, if you are keeping track). I cooked dinner. I meditated. Slowly, my body recalibrated. The pressure eased. Things came back into focus.
I’m not telling you to be uninformed. No, there is too much at stake to put your head in the sand. But we are not built for the chronic stream of dis/information. Be selective, be loving, honor real-life connections, and get outside.
Don’t burst your eardrums.