I live in a world of silence. My dog occasionally barks. My phone occasionally rings…mainly when a pesky phone solicitor calls in spite of the fact that I’m listed on the state and federal “do not call” list. Sometimes I play music (Pandora – love it!). Rarely do I watch a movie. I never watch TV. Really. Never. There is no one to talk to, well, other than my dog and I suppose she listens as well as anyone. But she hasn’t much to say. So there are no conversations, dangling or otherwise. No laughter. No friends who want to get together. I read books, eat and throw up, play with the dog, play around on the computer, post to Facebook, Twitter, my blog. You can hear the keyboard tapping as I type, the birds chirping outside the window providing some relief to the deafening silence. But there is a prevailing quietness to my existence that presses down on me, forcing the air out of the room. I am painfully aware of how very alone I am.
Some silence is actually a good thing. I can take a fairly hefty dose of it. But it can become oppressive incredibly quickly when that’s pretty much all you experience. It becomes crushing. And crushing is painful.
Silence is actually very noisy. Noisy in the sense that it weighs on you and beats on you, creating a vacuum that is quite painful to hear and to feel. You’ve no doubt heard the term “deafening roar?” Silence is like that. It roars. And the roar is enough to cause one to cover their ears. It is crushing and oppressive. It tears one apart. It causes terror and incredible pain. There is no escaping the overwhelming silent emptiness.
Whoever said that silence is golden likely didn’t have it as a near constant companion.