Escaping the Background Noise

The silence stretches across the expanse of the house. It can be deafening at times, but the background noise shrinks it back down to size; a rather damaging quality to excel at.

It’s a typical three bed, two bath house. There’s pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink and there always seems to be laundry in the wash – all signs of life in a lived in home.

But, the few pictures are the only ones I’ve taken in recent years; the dishes in the sink are from the meals I cook on a daily basis, and laundry is always mine to put away.

Work and school occupy a majority of my time, but I try to keep myself busy otherwise. Watching the same mind-numbing shows became monotonous after a certain point. So, I’ve picked up a ton of new hobbies – reading, writing, and crafting to name a few. All solo activities, yet they’re ones that make me feel connected in ways I can’t explain.

Still my days feel redundant. They frequently go as follows: work, school work, dinner, hobby, bed.

It’s like I’m stuck in a time loop. The days may vary slightly, but the routine always stays the same. And after a while, it all bleeds together.

Some would think weekends would be different – I’m young and vibrant. At twenty-three, I’m ready to spread my wings, to see the world, to live life to the fullest.

I put on makeup and curl my hair to prepare for a night out. The outfits I choose are ordinary for a young woman in her twenties. They’re cute, some might even say a bit risqué. I feel good checking myself over in the mirror, but without fail, the background noise creeps in.

What are you wearing? Why do you like look that?

The questions ring in my ears like a mantra. The serotonin that courses through my body completely evaporates.

I wash the makeup off, put my hair in a bun to hide the curls, and throw on a shirt and shorts that are two sizes too big.

My wings are broken.

I silently climb into a cold bed and listen to the background noise while a single tear rolls down my face.

It’s at night that I often fantasize about a different life. One where I’m surrounded by warmth, rather than cold indifference. One where I would be happy and full of laughter. One where I would be carefree. One where love would graciously find me. My imagination becomes more vivid with each passing night, but I’m reluctant to reach out for it.

There’s always those nagging questions that hold me back. Where would I go? Who would I be?

Would I survive?

These four walls and the background noise have me in a chokehold, but at least I’m being held above water. Outside of here, I could drown. Life would be so... unfamiliar. The world is so big for someone so small.

But away from this house, the pictures on the walls wouldn’t be a constant reminder of how little I’ve lived. The dishes from dinner would no longer be in the sink. The laundry would never get put away and the background noise would be silenced. It would all just be a ghost of my past; a blimp of time. Something I would look back on in years to come only to realize I wasn’t the problem; the background noise was.

Each day feels like a fortnight with the chokehold becoming more of a noose around my neck. This house, the background noise – they’re slowly killing me. Once this realization comes to light, a crushing weight comes down on my chest, making it more of a struggle to breathe. My wings are already broken and this will only ruin me further. I fear I’ve reached my breaking point.

Under the immeasurable amount of pressure, my body and mind somehow become much stronger than before. It’s a psychological response I’ve never quite fully understood until now.

Without another thought, I begin to pack up my belongings. Only possessions I treasure will go. The rest will stay to waste away with everything else in the house.

The more I shove into my car, the lighter I feel. Who would have thought that such a simple task could be so healing, so freeing? When the trunk is full and I slam my door, that’s when I feel it – a presence that’s felt nonexistence for years. The background noise is staring at me from the steps by the front door.

“What are you doing? It’s 7:30 in the morning.” He snaps curiously.

“Leaving,” one word. One simple word, but the power it holds is immense.

“And just when do you plan on coming back?” I don’t cower at the question or the tone in his voice like I would have previously, nor do I waste my breath giving him an answer. Instead, we stare at each other from a distance, letting a moment pass between us. The background noise being quiet for once.

When he sees a shimmer of light has returned to my eyes, he shakes his head and goes back inside; finally cutting the rope.

He’ll no longer be the background noise in my life. He’ll no longer make me feel ashamed of myself, the way I dress or how I look. He’ll no longer be able to disregard me or my feelings. He’ll no longer hold me back or control my life.

When I climb into the driver’s seat of my car and close the door, there’s a peaceful, blissful silence; one I’ve been yearning for.

I back out of the driveway, unsure of where I’m going or who will be there when I decide I’ve reached my final destination. I’d rather take my chances keeping my own head above water than continue to be weighed down by the same person who has pretended to keep me afloat.

I might be alone in this big world, but after everything, I realize the only person I truly need is myself. Life is funny that way.