The Sound of Silence

squirrel.jpgToday I’m back at my desk after the UK Bank Holiday weekend. This year Mr T went away on a “boy’s jolly” to Scotland, and rather than inviting friends to stay or jaunting off, I decided to treat myself to a few days of solitary  peace and quiet here at home.

There is a certain self indulgent joy in choosing not to be social. I got up when the sun woke me, went to bed when I felt tired and spoke to no-one for two whole days. I didn’t find myself feeling lonely, there was enough activity in the garden to keep me entertained and apart from an indulgent session of trashy film watching on Saturday night I only listened to the radio in the mornings to catch the news headlines, and the TV stayed turned off. I chose not to join the Bank Holiday shoppers or duck and weave between families visiting the forest. I stayed in, pulling on my PJs and not washing my hair!

The silence gave me a chance to listen to myself, to think about how I spend my days and how much of the time is spent trying to please other people or conform to expectations. I relished not having to slap on the cover up that hides my skin rashes and redness (caused by the Lupus and which forces people to stare when I go out). I wandered around my house, touching favourite books, opening them, reading a few pages and then adding some of them to the ready to topple pile of “must re-reads” on my bedside table. I spent long hours in the garden. I weeded, transplanted seedlings and watered pots. I noticed the pesky squirrel who comes to my garden every day is a female. From the look of her, she’s recently given birth and she has a healed injury to her front arm. There is a fresh wound to one of her nipples and I worried that it might become infected, so for a few minutes,  I allowed her free access to the sunflower seeds in the bird feeder. Her survival skills made me feel like she’d earned a break and an easy feed! I wasn’t really alone because I has a garden full of birds, butterflies and bees. They paid no attention to me or to each other. I felt at ease, without the need to hold a conversation. It was enough to just sit and watch the world unfold in my garden

I didn’t feel at all lonely during my two days alone (and let’s remember, it was only two days). Maybe this is because I had chosen this time for myself, thinking of it as an indulgence. Sometimes, I am forced to remain home alone because of work commitments or ill health and on these occasions I often feel resentful and suffer that terrible feeling of missing out on “all” the fun everyone else is having. I found myself dwelling on the subtle difference between being alone and being lonely. I thought about my neighbour, long widowed, who spends many hours in her own company, but protests she never feels lonely or abandoned because she can choose where to go and who to see. This is a stark contrast to her days as a full time carer, when she was never able to go out on a whim – or hardly at all to be honest! Back then she was often sad. She would spend long hours weeding her front garden, cleaning the car or finding any number of reasons to potter about in the hope of a snatched conversation. Other neighbours would take time to stop, to chat, to allow her time to indulge in gossip and let her talk about nothing in particular. Let’s be honest, apart from snatched moments with her husband’s carers or a PPI telephone call, these were her only interactions and she needed more.

This weekend of self imposed “me time” was a treat, a much needed break and a chance to please myself. How would I cope if this was my “every day”? I’m not sure. But, I hope that if / when that day comes then I will have enough resilience to find my own way through the silence and to enjoy my own company …

…just so long as I have access to a window and a full bird feeder!

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1 Comment

  1. I think you’ve perfectly described the difference between loneliness and solitude. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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