It’s Quiet – Too Quiet

I used to hate it when things were quiet. I would constantly have music playing or the television on, even if it was just background noise. I would go out, hang out, be with people as much as possible. Dinner here. Dancing there.

Then I met The Daddy. I met him and he went overseas for 9 months. Those 9 months were very, very quiet. I hated it.

The Daddy came home. We got married. Had babies. Nothing was ever quiet again.

Between the three boys, someone always needed me. Someone always was doing something. In the rare moments when there wasn't kid noise or daddy noise or bipolar noise or television, music, video games. When I wasn't bombarded with constant noise, I relished it. I wanted to bottle it up and save some for later (I think they actually call that Valium). I had noise overload all the time. I would get tense and be on edge because there was simply too much auditory stimuli.

Now the Daddy lives somewhere else. The kids are in bed astoundingly at a decent hour for the third night in a row. And it is quiet.

Too quiet.

The problem with too quiet is that it can lose its novelty very quickly. Especially when you are used to being filled beyond capacity with noise.
        The problem with too quiet is you start thinking.

                         I am still 100% sure I made the right decision to move out.

                                      Knowing my decision was right doesn't make too quiet any less lonely.

                                               In the words of my sister – its time to get a life.