The ghost of productivity haunted me in the early 2020s. It could be the nationwide lockdowns that came with the pandemic making me want to always reach out to podcasts to keep me company while in the shower, making breakfast, and tidying up my room. Because at that time, it felt like not learning something new was a waste of time, and I had plenty of time. And so different voices kept me occupied with ideas and drowned out the voices inside my head—the fear and overwhelming loneliness that was slowly eating me from the inside.
Even after I finally got back to my childhood home, reunited with my family after months of isolation in the metro, I continued to fill the spaces of my day listening to podcasts, either through loudspeakers or earphones. But since the start of this year, I’ve noticed I listen less and less to podcasts and more and more to the unrelenting narrator in my head, who has a lot of opinions about anything and everything. I don’t feel like I need another voice yapping around me because my internal voice is full of stories that it’s hosting its own podcast episodes, fresh daily.
The shift is mostly due to preparing for a major move—leaving the Philippines for Canada—and all my fears and worries became so loud that the only way for me to take a break from them was to create something rather than consume, which led me to make video diaries documenting my days amid the changes and uncertainties I had to go through.
Even though the calm has finally arrived, or at least things have gotten predictable enough that I no longer fret, I still find my inner voice loud enough that I no longer need another podcast episode to keep the silence at bay.
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