Silence is heavy and suffocating. My peace is always found in noise; the television I’m not watching, music playing I’m not listening to, or hearing people around me chattering, while I remain quiet – even if I’m not engaging in the noise, it helps me feel less alone.
On a regular day, my mind shouts a constant checklist at me to keep me on track, it wonders about people I’ve not seen in a while, and it sometimes resides in a fantasy land of its own, all while two or three songs play at the same time – it’s not a quiet place, my mind!
And when silence is forced on me, my mind gets much louder.
I used to be able to sit in silence and it felt okay, but after being subject to the silent treatment one too many times, silence has become deafening, and it’s often accompanied by a heavy dose of self-loathing.
I need to fix the silence
Silence means I’m a bad person
I have done something wrong
I should have a warning plastered to my forehead, “When left in silence for too long, will self-destruct.” But then again, it’s not down to others to keep me in a state of permanent noise; it’s down to me to learn that silence isn’t always as jagged, rough, or spikey as it feels.
TikTok is my friend when I need noise, an app I can get lost in for hours; the only problem is my ‘for you page’ is currently going through a Tarot phase once again, (How does the algorithm know when my mental state is on the ground?) which inevitably adds petrol to the fire within my already burning mind.
“Come home to yourself!” one of the many Tiktok tarot readers told the screen, and in turn, told me too. I know they weren’t talking to me, but something struck me; come home to myself? Surely I should already be home, right? I live in my body; how can I not be home? But I think it struck me because they were right – I’m not currently at home. I’m away on some self-destructive holiday with a note stuck to my front door telling people to go away – keep your letters, parcels, and gym membership flyers out of my letterbox.
It’s possibly less of a holiday and more of an enforced retreat to stop myself from self-destructing within my own walls; if I go somewhere else, I can’t tear down walls or rip off wallpaper, leaving more to be fixed when I come back.
Well, I’ve had a few months’ holiday at Self-Destruction Hotel and I think I’m nearly ready to come home.
Something I’ve learned over the last few years is that it’s essential to feel your feelings. It sounds so obvious; feel your feelings? What else can you do with them? But I think we’re all pretty skilled in ignoring our feelings and powering through – whether that’s in the Self-Destruction Hotel or in our own walls.
I believe I’ve found my way back home by doing things with just myself; I’ve been spending less time online and more time writing, playing games, and picking up cross-stitch patterns I’ve had sat around for years. I lost myself for a while and completely hated myself, and although I’m still not my own biggest fan, I’m learning to spend time with myself again and enjoy it.
Often I chose to exist only in the eyes of others, and when they stop looking, I check into Self-Destruction Hotel. I wish I could just exist for myself and have that be enough, but I’m willing to learn how to be enough for myself. I need to treat myself with kindness and compassion and give myself a break for reacting to pain in a way that’s helped me survive in the past.
I think now seems as good a time as any to make friends with myself; better late than never, right?
Gwen Richards 