Howling

There are nights when the world feels too quiet, and you almost hear the sound of your own heartbeat echoing against the walls. That’s when the howling begins, not from wolves under a moonlit sky, but from inside of us.

It’s that ache that comes when you’ve been strong for too long. The kind of howling that doesn’t use words but still says, “I’m tired.”

Tonight, I think about how much we all carry. Smiles that hide exhaustion. Conversations that sound cheerful but are really just ways to survive the silence. We laugh, we post, we go to work, but somewhere deep inside, something howls, asking to be heard.

For me, the howling often comes in October. Maybe because it’s my birth month, maybe because it’s the season where the air feels like reflection, cool, still, honest. I find myself thinking about the goals I didn’t achieve, the moments I rushed through, and the parts of me that are still healing.

But this year, the sound feels different. Softer. Not angry, just awake.

I’m learning that the howling isn’t always painful. Sometimes it’s the sound of transformation. It’s the voice of the old self fading away so the new one can breathe. It’s your soul saying, “You’re still here, even after everything.”

Maybe we’ve been taught to silence our howls too early. We call it weakness when we cry, we call it drama when we express, we call it “too emotional” when we care deeply. But what if the howling is holy? What if it’s our heart’s way of unclogging what silence can’t fix?

So tonight, I let myself howl, not out loud, but in spirit. I write, I breathe, I whisper prayers between keystrokes. And I remind myself that even wolves don’t howl out of loneliness; they howl to let others know they’re not alone.

That thought comforts me.

Because somewhere, someone else might be howling too, maybe quietly at their desk, or between tears, or while sitting in traffic. And maybe our sounds meet somewhere in the wind, and for a moment, the world feels less lonely.

So if you’re reading this and your soul is making noise, don’t silence it. Let it out, write, paint, pray, cry, sing, speak. Whatever your version of howling is, let it happen.

Because even in the dark, your voice matters.