I’ve never been particularly scared of the dark. Quiet mornings and nights haven’t bothered me. Instead, I often find myself overwhelmed by the noises of life. The constant barage of sounds from every direction create chaos and refuse to let me soul settle. Then as life got harder and more complicated, I found myself using the noises as distractions – ways to keep myself busy, my mind occupied, my heart pieced together when it wanted to fall into pieces.
My favorite moments have often been those bits in the morning when you wake up, but haven’t quite faced the day. When the dreams are still lingering and the to-do list hasn’t taken over and the internal monologue hasn’t started. In those moments, there has always been a peace – sometimes the only peace I would feel during the day.
So I wasn’t suprised with all the changes recently that I have found the silence sweet. There have been days and days when I haven’t turned on the TV; when the only noise is the sound of my coming and going life – breathing and puttering and unboxing and decluttering and finding space for everything.
What has been shocking is how quickly I’m not liking the utter – aloneness – of this phase of my life. The quiet that once brought me so much peace seems to sometimes say “you’re all alone now. This is how it will always be.” The stillness I craved now pokes at my nerves, reminding me that all I really have is time – time to be alone with my thoughts – to be lost in my own maze of struggles and triumphs.
I have long felt- and long fought- against the idea that I am a burden to people. I have the best people in my life, but they are all busy people. Busy people with families – with partners and spouses and children and jobs and responsibilities and hobbies and lives – and I have never been one to want to add to someone’s expectations or someone’s list of things. It’s probably (okay I know it is) a character flaw that I always consider my needs a burden. It’s definitely not healthy that I am the one will always put myself at the bottom of everyone’s list. And it’s something I’ve been trying to combat.
But, what I’ve found is that when I do reach out, when I do want to be the person people make time for, the person people want to invest in – they often can’t. Or they often won’t. Or they often say they want to but then it doesn’t work out. I’m usually the person who says “Whenever is good for you.” And that means it’s never good. But then, every now and then I get brave and say, “what about this time? this day? This weekend?” And, invariably I am met with no’s and not then and all the things that just remind me of the harsh reality of these days.
I’m going to have to figure out how to be my own answer to the emptiness I feel.