The Comfort of Silence

It's a wonderful, yet jarring, thing to actually feel yourself change. Not change, like grow a new arm, or sprout a third eye, but change like suddenly be okay with something you didn't used to be okay with.

Back in the day, I couldn't be alone in a house without the TV on. The silence would creep me out. When I cleaned houses, the first thing I would do when I got there was turn on the TV or the radio.

And I realize now that I needed that noise to distract me from myself. And, apparently, my own unhappiness.

I know it was unhappiness because I can be alone with myself, in the silence, now. Silence doesn't scare me. Having thoughts or conversations in my head doesn't scare me. A lot of the thoughts I used to have were issues I was having with Steve. There was always something going in my head that wouldn't let up. Those thoughts and imaginary conversations stressed me out and made me angry, so it was just easier to drown them out.

I don't have anything going on now that needs drowning out. Oh, I did. I had the TV on constantly July through December. And it was loud. But those troubles have, for the most part, drifted away, and what's left is just.....quiet. I have a few conversations going on in my head with a couple of people that I need to get some closure with, but those aren't too bad. I can handle them.

I had this little epiphany this evening when I came home to a sun filled apartment and didn't turn on the TV. And then thought, huh, I've been doing that a lot lately. Especially with the days getting longer and it not being so dark when I get home. I changed clothes, threw some laundry in, did the dishes and just piddled around. I thought about listening to the Once soundtrack I just downloaded last night (because I rented the movie and it's just freakin' fantastic. I'm going to watch it again tonight with the commentary on) but then I though, no. No need. I just wanted to enjoy the silence.

And there I go again. Growing.
Sheesh.