The Mourning And the Deafening Silence

I used to crave the quiet.

I would dream and wish for a moment all to myself in peaceful tranquility. No noise. No people.

Now the quiet is my torment.

There is no escape. I try to drown it out with music. I turn on the television. I’ll have the phone going at the same time. The more noise, the better to drown out the screeching quiet.

But the noise is busy and chaotic and I can’t relax, but in a strange way the noise helps with the bigger anxiety of the quiet.

The quiet is peaceful for a moment. But a moment of respite is all I get. Like the calm before the storm. Slowly a feeling creeps in like a cold mist; chilling to the bone. The feeling creeps in before the thoughts arrive.

A nagging feeling stirs in the pit of my stomach. It’s sour and jittery and it makes my heart race. Apprehension is the first to arrive. A warning. It’s too quiet. Anxiety is next. Quick get busy, drown out the quiet. Distract yourself. Suppression ensues. Tamp the feelings down. You’re fine. Distract yourself.

When I allow the quiet to linger and face the silence, it feels like I’m facing death and am bereft with a heavy sadness and longing that I can’t even articulate or comprehend.

A strange sort of stillness, alive but not alive. My neighbours are living. Watching tv, conversing, lights are on. Some have their blinds open and I can see the life in the apartments below my balcony. Other windows are dark or have faint glimmers of lights and movement at this hour.

I’ve shut my lights off. Turned off the tv. Phone is off. It’s quiet in my apartment. It’s too quiet. I’m facing that heavy silence. It’s so heavy.

When I longed for the quiet I was surrounded by people. Engulfed in chaos, noise, too busy self-sacrificing for the comfort and desires of others, surrounded by people who quite literally hated me and were using me, people I trusted and gave care to. I felt exhausted and unappreciated, I felt obligated, responsible, and I was desperate for a break. For a way out.

When I was finally out, I discovered truths I knew but didn’t want to believe, more truths were revealed, masks dropped. One by one a little at a time and then all at once people revealed their character and their intentions. Some people fell away simply because it was time.

It’s funny because I was doing so well despite all the loss. I was healing, I picked myself back up. I was doing very well. I can attribute my healing to my intense rage. I was fueled by this anger to overcome challenge and rise above and improve and become someone I could be proud of.

But life has a way of humbling you and it’s a cruel teacher. It suffocated my flames and there’s nothing left but ash. I feel empty and lost. I feel like I’m mourning my anger. It was my vitality, the thing that kept me going. It was my inspiration. It was everything I needed and used to get through it all. It was my salvation. And now it’s gone. I feel cold.

Now, after surviving all the loss and losing my anger, the quiet feels like a harbinger of death. It feels like I’m staring at an invisible force looming over me. Waiting like a vulture for my carcass. Beckoning me to just give up. The silent witness egging on my pain.

I feel like I’m in a strange purgatory of my own machination. My mind and my feelings are holding me prisoner and I don’t know how to break free yet. Every time I think I may improve or get away the silence brings me right back.

The silence in isolation is torture. It’s loud. It’s deafeningly loud. I wish I could just drown it out.

But the noise is starting to scratch my brain and it’s irritating my soul. There is no solace in the sound either.

I feel like I’m mourning the rage I lost and the person I became to survive all the cruelty I had to overcome. And now that I’m safe, I feel unsafe and I feel so lost.

The noise is suffocating.

The silence is drowning me.

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