Musings from the Laundromat: Breaking Silence edition
I did not leave the house yesterday. I did not speak a word to another human being all day.
There were no possible moves I could make that would not leave me at a disadvantage – so I stayed mute.
I declared the day Netflix/Nap day and Butters and I became Saturday hermits and shunned the world outside.
After six, yes six independent movies – I made my move – in email form, a simple move requiring only a logical, honest response.
And now I wait.
I started with Mr. Nobody starring Jared Leto. If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know the capacity I have for inner tangents and the propensity to think ‘too much’. What I got out of Mr. Nobody was this odd thought
I thought about all of my exes – yes, all of them. How some of them hated me for ending things. Then I thought of something coming to me before I broke things off with a glimpse of the future for me to consider.
“He has children waiting to be born – and they’re not yours. You have to let him go.”
Next I watched, in no particular order, Prozac Nation, Tiny Furniture, Somewhere and L.I.E. I capped the night off with Muriel’s Wedding because L.I.E. disturbed me somewhat and I needed an ABBA fix.
The Elephants in the Room
No, really, they’re there.
I would stare up occasionally at the ceiling and marvel at the shadows they cast.
Above my bed they hang and dance in their shadow form.
Elephants in the room.
Tangent-minded me thought of a myriad of things they represent.
But for once, I didn’t go too deep.
The silence was enough – to be silent and plunge deeper might have been too far for me to resurface from without that need to gasp for air, lungs burning and stinging eyes.
We’ve all been at the bottom of a pool for too long at some point – you know how that feels.
Too many cups
By mid afternoon I was hungry.
I haven’t really been shopping for myself – all the food in the freezer is for my son, who is rarely home. But I was not going to touch it.
I wanted something warm. I can’t remember the last time I made the effort to cook something more involved than a scrambled egg.
There was nothing.
Then I happened upon a cup-of-noodles that I was sure Nic wouldn’t miss.
I set the kettle to boil and assessed my kitchen.
I glanced at the dish-rack and had a recurring thought. Too many cups. Too many cups and too many utensils.
Who needs such an amount?
Soon it will be just me in the house – and as a grand gesture of sensibility I will remove all but three cups, three plates, three sets of forks, knives, spoons … maybe 4. 4 is a nice even ‘set’ isn’t it?
I don’t think sensibility is the right word. But I can’t think of the one I want – so it shall stay.
The cups and silverware shall not.
I’m downsizing – ridding myself of cupboard fillers and unnecessary space wasters. Of clothes I’ve kept in case I get ‘bigger’ – of dried goods in the pantry I thought I might eat one day.
On a larger scale, I’m relieving myself of internal clutter – persisting thoughts and obsessive compulsive needs.
One box at a time.
And am still waiting for a response to my move. For some honesty and closure.
Then I’ll remove another cup.
Tangled, tongue-tied. And how friends are like combs …
Well, well, well.
Once again, the universe responded to my venting with a loving, ‘why do you keep forgetting that you are not forgotten?!’ moment.
I don’t know how many more of them I get – so I should probably fix whatever it is that needs fixing before I use them all up.
After the dam broke, I flailed a little in the deluge of feelings until I came up for air gasping.
Having purged onto my blog – I found the motivation to check on dinner. I was plating when my dog started barking – unable to ‘nose’ her way out, I left the kitchen to open the front door for her.
She startled as a friend of mine came walking in.
(This gives me pause for thought by the way – Butters the Brave is never going to be inscribed on her collar. Any serial killers out there should probably know that they have safe passage into my house simply by stepping around the barking manatee – could you just not wake me up to kill me? Thanks.)
I didn’t startle.
This is the sort of friend that does just walk in. And I like it.
I compared her after our chat to Batman. (okay, mostly I was chatting and she was listening – which was just what I needed)
Only better – because I never have to put a signal up into the sky – she just seems to know when I need her. She’s like a Jedi friend. She senses a disturbance in the force and just shows up.
“I came to check on you – you didn’t look good Monday.”
Did I mention she also doesn’t pull any punches?
She had come into the office on business, shortly after I had been on the curb trying to steady my heart and my breathing and regain the vision in my right eye.
We had stood around the candy bowl in the reception area and chatted for a little while.
Last night we reenacted that scene – only on my couches with my little candy bowl between us.
It was sweet.
(Sorry – couldn’t resist)
After I purged and she listened – occasionally offering insight – I felt so much better.
But what I noticed was that I have the hardest time orally. I can never adequately sum up what is running through my odd little head when it comes to speaking.
My mind is trying to process what it is I’m thinking and feeling and why, the whole time I’m trying to form a sentence!
And I just can’t ever find the right words.
I’m analyzing everything that I know I want to say, before I say it.
This results in me being 10 thoughts ahead of the one that I started to convey when I opened my mouth. It’s bonkers. I get tongue-tied.
I was reminded of my poem Mute.
The most wonderful thing about thinking out loud to a friend is that the problems start to loosen and all the confusing knots start to get worked out. Friends are like combs.
I couldn’t put my finger on exactly WHAT was the source of my sadness – but we got closer.
I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating: Unless I acknowledge what’s bothering me – examine it and find a solution – it’s not going to go away. And I don’t grow.
Constantly stuffing my feelings and ignoring problems with a fake smile – doesn’t get me anywhere and only results in more tangles.
Another friend, who just returned from Germany (God I missed her!) sent me a quote today that I loved.
“To carry a grudge is like being stung to death by one bee” – William H. Walton.
And not just for grudges. To carry a fear or any unresolved issue will eventually diminish your capacity to live your life to the fullest and eat away at your serenity.
So what have I learned this time?
- I don’t have to be alone. I choose it – I need to choose to let people in
- Butters is a useless guard dog
- Candy bowls make for great conversation center pieces
- I need to work on my verbal communication skills
- No more stuffing my feelings
And most importantly, I have the most amazing friends.
Now, if I had antibiotics for my ears, I’d be golden.
Flooded with fantastic thoughts,
My memory can’t retain them,
my pen cannot complete them.
Fleeting revelations mend my soul,
but my mouth fails to convey them.
I’m meek, untrained to speak them.
I have no voice.
I feel more than my sentences,
I ache to pass them on!
But just before I write them down, they’re gone.
Realizations spill into my mind
then locked inside.
I speak ridiculously,
Out loud I hear someone … and it’s me,
poorly portraying me.