Forced silence

The day of my last journal entry, both my telephone and DSL Internet connection went kablooie. Today, it finally got restored. At first, it was really peaceful -- no ringing phone, no news alerts stressing me out. Then my television died, and I had to become re-accustomed to silence. Well, sorta. With two dogs and six cats, four of whom are still kittens even though they look almost fully grown, there is always some noise around here, but it just wasn't the same.

Our local radio stations are terrible, and I depend on the Internet for good music. I came to miss real conversation. Though I engage with people at my job, it's still only part time, and the contact is superficial. I still watched DVDs on the computer, but I've seen all of our movies so many times I nearly have them memorized. I came to crave the sound of human voices. I think my hermit phase may be subsiding for awhile, and I can't help but think that's good. I went too far into myself and reaffirmed that it can be a scary place in there. There's a decent amount of good in there too, but it's been hard for me to see good things. I'm working on that.

Working again in an income producing job is helping me with that. I've long held that jobs are more than income, and even though I'm back in an entry level position, that's been seriously reaffirmed. I do things. I help people. I have a reason beyond my own sanity to get up in the morning and look good. I've also been reminded that I'm capable of a lot more than I'm doing, and God willing, this economy will get back to the point where I can find a job better suited to my education and skills. In the meantime, I'm grateful to have a job when so many don't and have the resources once again to keep on looking for a second job. Job hunting incurs expenses, and when you're watching every penny, buying gas for job hunting, paper and ink for resumes, stamps, thank you notes and the other assorted job hunting tools can take second place to utilities and food.

I was talking to (OK, bitching to) a friend one day, and she replied, "Well, it's not my fault you live in the middle of nowhere. You could move to a better place to find a job." She's right, but it was a job that brought us here. I've been looking at leaving, moving to a city rather than a small town. I was raised a city/suburban girl and have never really felt truly at home in a small, rural town. However, I feel fairly stuck here until I get a little firmer on my feet. Moving is another one of those smart moves to make, but it's still a move that's just beyond my reach.

Seeing this in print has made me realize something. In the silence of the last two weeks, I've rediscovered a sense of the future and a hint of possibility. For months I've wallowed in sadness and loss. I've tried to have good days, and sometimes I've succeeded. I've taken care of my health, including noticing before I bottomed out that my anti-depressants weren't really effective any more and getting the prescription changed. I'm learning to let the womanchild handle her own problems, instead of letting her dump everything on me because I'm convenient and safe. I won't say that we have an adult relationship, but we're headed in that direction. I've also been strongly reminded that while I may not have a lot of friends, the ones I have are incredible, and they think I'm pretty darn good too.

My silence wasn't comfortable. Since I craved time alone and a few moments of silence for years, I have to grin a bit at that irony. It ended up being good for me, and I'm still very glad it's over (please AT&T, let it be over). Who knows, it may even lead to some decent writing. My private journal has definitely gotten a workout in the last few weeks, and so has a chapter of my languishing novel. I'm still petty enough to get irritated that it's discomfort that makes us grow, but I'm glad to be growing again.