noise

There are some things that just bother me; get under my skin, make me want to run and hide, bother me kinds of things. I’m not sure why I can sometimes handle it better than other times but it just happens that way. Today was one of those days when it got me and I went to my room and locked myself in. I call it noise.
Noise, just like you think when I say noise. Lovely things. Things like: crickets chirping in the night, the wind blowing through the trees, a hard rain on the roof. Also things like the first cry of a newborn baby, the words of your three year old praying. Noise can be wonderful. The Pacabel Cannon is one of my favorite pieces. So when does noise get under my skin?
There’s a different kind of noise, an overwhelming kind. It can include all of the above at the same time. Noise. Back ground noise. The noise surrounding me right now, things like the TV cd skipping, the forks and knives on the plates, the crickets, the kids wrestling, the air conditioning coming on. These things aren’t bad by themselves but they add up. So what can I do? Where can I go to get away? Nowhere. There is no escape from noise. Where ever I go it follows me. I can’t leave my ears behind. I go to my room, I close the door, I put the pillow over my head, it’s still there. The constant never ending shrieking in my ears. Noise. Some call it tinnitis, or ringing in the ears. If I were deaf would I still hear it? Would it be less or would I be damned to listen to it and nothing else? Never have the chance to hear the Nightingale that I swear is out back somewhere? Never hear the ocean waves, or the wind blow again? Noise can be a blessing and a curse all at once.
Friends of mine wonder why I like to be outside, almost as if I can’t breath when I’m inside too long. Noise is the answer. Not just the sounds that I hear but the noise. Here, noise is something else. It’s the constant “not being done, too much to do” feeling. The “will you please stop touching me” feeling. Noise here is feeling crowded and useless and helpless. I don’t mind being touched. In fact I love being touched but when the children don’t give me space then touch is just another overwhelmed sense. Maybe what I’m referring to is “sensory overload”. Too much sound, too much touch, too much looking at things undone. Noise can be a list that never gets done, dreams never met, going to the attic and realizing so many lost ambitions. Noise can be the constant itching of my poison ivy, or the sneezing for no reason at all. It can even be the fact that I didn’t sleep well or that I may be hungry. Noise is just all of the “stuff” that takes away my peace. My writing has started to give me a release from this overload I hadn’t quite imagined. A chance to throw my feelings down so that I don’t hold them all inside and ruin my relationships. With the writing I am still highly reserved but I’m able give my mind more room to live. I haven’t published everything I’ve written, I really don’t want to make any enemies. The act of writing though has eased the noise.
Thank you for reading my noise tonight.
w

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