Why silence bothers us and how to make peace with it
Imagine sitting down in a completely silent room. No phone, no music, no street noise. After a few minutes, it starts to feel uncomfortable. You might reach for your phone, put on a podcast, or turn on the television just as "background noise." This isn't weakness or an exception — it's an experience shared by the vast majority of people in modern society. Silence unsettles us, yet it is one of the most valuable states we can approach.
But why does silence bother us? And what happens in our minds when we find ourselves without external auditory stimuli? The answers are surprisingly profound, reaching into the foundations of how the human brain works and how we are wired as a society.
Try our natural products
A Brain That Abhors a Vacuum
The human brain is evolutionarily programmed to process information. For thousands of years, silence was associated with danger — if birds in a forest suddenly went quiet, it signalled a threat. Our nervous system is therefore set up to automatically perceive silence as a signal for heightened alertness. This archaic setting persists to this day, even when we are sitting safely in our own living room.
Modern neuroscience adds another layer to this. A brain in a state of silence does not remain inactive — on the contrary, the so-called default mode network activates, which is responsible for introspection, memories, and imagination. In other words, as soon as external noise disappears, the brain turns its attention inward. And that can be uncomfortable, because we are confronted with our own thoughts, anxieties, and unresolved emotions.
Research published in the journal Science in 2014 showed that a large proportion of study participants preferred a mild electric shock over being left alone with themselves in a quiet room for just fifteen minutes. This result was surprising even to the researchers themselves at the time, but today many psychologists view it as a natural consequence of how accustomed we have become to avoiding our own inner world.
A parallel can be found in everyday life. Take Marie, a forty-five-year-old teacher from Brno, who discovered after her children left home that she had no idea what to do with the sudden silence in her apartment. "For the first few weeks, I had the television on from morning to night, even though I wasn't watching it at all. I needed that sound as confirmation that I existed," she says. Her experience is, in fact, entirely typical.
The Culture of Noise and Digital Addiction
It's not just about neurology — silence has also become uncomfortable from a cultural standpoint. We live in an era where constant availability and stimulation are considered the norm. Social media, notifications, streaming platforms, open-plan offices — everything is designed to keep us in constant contact with the outside world. Silence has thus found itself on the margins, perceived as a waste of time or even as failure.
Philosopher and author of Reclaiming Conversation, Sherry Turkle, points out that we have lost the habit of being alone with ourselves. "Whenever a moment of silence arrives, we reach for our phone. We fill every gap instead of letting it be," she writes. This pattern of behaviour leads us to perceive silence as something abnormal that must be immediately corrected.
The very design of digital devices contributes to this as well. Notifications are deliberately constructed to interrupt concentration and trigger an immediate response. The average smartphone user checks their device approximately one hundred times a day, often without even knowing why. It is a conditioned reflex — silence arrives, we reach for our device, we get a hit of dopamine, and the silence is banished.
Paradoxically, however, this constant stimulation contributes to rising levels of anxiety and burnout. A brain that never gets the opportunity for genuine rest gradually loses its capacity for regeneration. The World Health Organization classifies burnout as an occupational phenomenon, but its roots run deeper — they concern the modern person's general inability to stop and be still.
What Lies Behind the Discomfort
Silence is also uncomfortable because it takes away the tools we normally use to defend ourselves from ourselves. Noise functions as a convenient shield against thoughts we'd rather not face. An unresolved conflict at work, health worries, dissatisfaction in a relationship — all of this waits behind the door of silence. As soon as the external noise dies down, these thoughts come knocking.
Psychologists call this phenomenon avoidance behaviour. It is a mechanism whereby a person avoids uncomfortable thoughts or emotions by occupying themselves with something else. In the short term, it works — noise drowns out the problem. In the long term, however, this strategy leads to an accumulation of emotional tension, which then manifests in other ways: irritability, insomnia, or a sense of inner emptiness.
It is worth noting that silence itself is not the problem — the problem is what silence reveals. And that is precisely where the key to understanding it lies. Silence is not the enemy. It is a mirror.
Making Peace with Silence
The good news is that our relationship with silence can change. It's not about learning to endure it as an unpleasant obligation, but about gradually beginning to perceive it as a space that offers something valuable. The path to this shift, however, requires time and conscious effort.
The first step is simply to begin. Psychologists recommend what is known as gradual exposure — that is, short and repeated instances of being in silence without attempting to fill it immediately. Starting with just five minutes a day is enough. No phone, no music, no podcast. Just sitting and observing what happens. This isn't meditation in the traditional sense, though meditative practice draws on a similar principle.
Research shows that regular moments of silence have demonstrable physical and psychological benefits. A study published in the journal Brain Structure and Function found that two hours of silence per day stimulate the growth of new cells in the hippocampus — the area of the brain associated with memory and learning. Silence thus literally changes the structure of the brain for the better.
Nature can also be a helpful ally. Spending time in a natural environment — in a forest, by water, in a meadow — offers a specific kind of silence that is not absolute, yet is nonetheless calming. The rustle of wind, birdsong, or the babbling of a stream do not register as disruptive noise, but as a natural acoustic backdrop that helps the mind slow down. The Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku, or "forest bathing" in Czech, is today recognised as a legitimate method of stress reduction and is supported by scientific studies in the field of psychoneuroimmunology.
How we approach silence mentally also plays a crucial role. If we perceive it as a threat or an emptiness, it will be uncomfortable. If we begin to perceive it as a space — for thoughts, for creativity, for rest — it will gradually become more acceptable. It helps to recognise that silence is not the absence of something, but the presence of calm.
Keeping a journal can also be useful. Writing thoughts on paper is a way of processing what silence brings to the surface, without having to immediately resolve or suppress it. This approach is recommended, for example, by the Centre for Applied Positive Psychology, which focuses on practical methods of mental wellbeing.
For those who live in busy environments and have nowhere to find physical silence, practical solutions exist. Earplugs or quality noise-cancelling headphones can create an island of silence even in the middle of a city. The early morning hours before the family wakes, or the evening moments after the children have fallen asleep, are natural windows that can be consciously used. This is not a luxury — it is an investment in mental health.
Silence as Part of a Healthy Lifestyle
In the context of a healthy lifestyle, silence is often an overlooked factor. We talk about nutrition, exercise, and sleep, but silence as a conscious practice remains on the periphery. Yet its impact on overall wellbeing is comparable to the other pillars of health.
Chronic noise — whether from traffic, work, or digital devices — raises levels of cortisol, the stress hormone, and places a long-term burden on the cardiovascular system. The World Health Organization identifies traffic noise as the second largest environmental health risk factor in Europe, second only to air pollution. That is not a negligible figure.
On the other hand, silence promotes deep sleep, improves concentration, strengthens the immune system, and enables the emotional processing of everyday experiences. It is therefore not only a psychological but also a physiological need — just as real as the need for exercise or quality nutrition.
A conscious approach to silence naturally interweaves with other aspects of a sustainable and healthy way of life. People who allow themselves to stop and be still tend to be more present in their everyday decisions — from what they eat, to what they buy, to how they spend their free time. Silence is thus not an isolated practice, but part of a broader attitude towards life that prioritises quality over quantity and mindfulness over automatism.
Perhaps it is time to stop perceiving silence as an enemy or as an emptiness that needs to be filled. Perhaps it is, on the contrary, one of the few spaces where we can truly hear ourselves — and in an age of constant noise, that is rarer than ever before.
