Ah...silence.

And my house is filled with silence.  Not so sure I'm okay with that long term, but since it's Sunday night and when I wake in the morning we'll be back at it for five solid days, I'll take the silence for the moment. Not to mention the Little Princess didn't get a nap today so it was quite "un-silent" at my home between 7-8 pm.

Silence has typically been one of those things I've had a love/hate relationship with.  I'm an introvert with extrovert ability so I can step it up when needed, but I get zapped big time and need my introvertish moments of silence and alone time to recharge.  Introvert does not equal silence, but many times, it leads there.  During college I doubt silence was ever a part of my intentional world.  It was after college when I moved away from my friends and began life as a new teacher in Mitchell that I experienced my first real silence.  And I hated it.

I went through an awful "shedding of my youth" stage.  I have a few friends and a few former students who are going through the same thing right now.  I remember not getting life at all. I was doing what I wanted by being a teacher, and I was gainfully employed so all should be well, right?  Not so much.  I spent many nights sobbing. I spent many early mornings into the late evenings at school, avoiding the fact that I was no longer living in a dorm surrounded by my pals who were willing and able to spend time with me at a moment's notice.  And, they all liked me.  I had friends in Mitchell and eventually had a roommate that I enjoyed living with, but it was different.  I was ultimately stuck in the place that was slowly making life miserable for me. That place was where I sometimes find myself still on rare occasions and I call it the "popular lonely."  I had friends; I had invites to things. I had a person living with me and was surrounded by 120 kids all day long. Yet, lonely.

Eventually, this loneliness took over. Everything.  I ended up admitting my weakness to my sister, with that weakness being my utter desire to live had left.  I visited my friend's mom who was a doctor (yes, we can all say awkward together) who diagnosed me with clinical depression. This was my first bout with it, although as I look back, I know it's a family trait and a definite chemical thing with me. So, I found a counselor in Sioux Falls who loved me so much she had her husband hire me for the summer, but what I discovered with her guidance was that I merely had hit a point in life where my youth was colliding with adulthood and I wasn't ready for it, nor was I happy with it.  Reality of the fact that I was alone sunk in. It wasn't even the whole paying bills, going to work, and stuff like that.  It really was the whole I was missing being the big fish in a small pond at USF and was missing the assurance I felt while surrounded by those who loved me.  Now I was alone and had to figure out who the heck I was.  Tough waters to row through.  In fact, I hated those years.  I lost weight though, but so not the way to do it.

Looking back I survived.  It was lots of talks with my counselor and lots of introspection on my part that allowed me to realize being alone is okay.  Silence works sometimes.  Going to a movie alone wasn't going to land me on society's black list.  Eating out alone was even acceptable. Yet, the struggle continued and I would venture to say by the time I was 28, I had worked through much of it (although then the whole struggle with singleness began so life really is one phase after another).  But shedding that youth really brought to the surface things I had hidden from myself for years.  So, although painful, in the end, it served its purpose well in allowing me accept that in my life, there will be silence and it is something I must be willing to accept and in fact, welcome with open arms. So, I do, albeit with a solo tear streaming down one cheek sometimes....