I’ve developed a habit of having the telly on in the background for what I called “white noise”. I’m not sure when it started. I now feel uncomfortable when it’s quiet.
I used to adore the quiet, when I could be alone with my thoughts. I was happy to just doodle, or write in my journal (which I probably need to start doing properly again). I remember the enjoyment I felt, just sitting outside and feeling the breeze. I loved just sitting in the library and just letting the silence wash over me.
I think I started fearing the quiet because I became conditioned to think that the quiet happened when I did something wrong. Company, presence, conversation and affection were withdrawn when I did something that was deemed unacceptable. It was my punishment and a reckoning would happen when I made a noise. I’m not describing getting hurt physically. It was just I would be inundated with past recriminations and past infractions. Sometimes, that feels worse than being hit. Because words stay with you.
I need to learn to appreciate the quiet again. To learn to just be. To learn to be in the moment. To know that the quiet doesn’t mean that you did something wrong. To know that when things are quiet it means you can relax.
The quiet is a blessing.
Yellywelly 