The Silent Hum

She grew up in a world where everyone around her owned a big car, a nice house, wore nice clothes and seemed happy. Her neighbor would always tell her about the trips they took abroad—Paris in the spring, Switzerland in the winter, Thailand for the beaches. Ever since her childhood, she made it her dream to have each one of those things. She would daydream about how happy she would be in a big home, moving from one big room to another, hosting parties. She chuckled with joy as she thought about it. It was like this grand movie her mind was playing in her head.

Her parents were on board with her dreams. They enrolled her in a good school and made sure she received the best coaching for her to go abroad.

It was hard, studying 15 hours a day. Pulling off all-nighters. Missing talking on the phone with her friends for hours. Missing all the birthday parties and the friendly hangouts. Missing hanging out with her sister and going shopping.

Every day was brute force and an unrelatable sense of willpower. She could not feel herself. It was almost like the dream rope was carrying her all the way through.

A part of her wanted to turn back and flee, but the dream told her to stay put and focus.

And she did.

Graduated from the finest institutes in the United States. Landed a job at the Big 4. Worked really hard to get those promotions.

And there it was. Her dream.

After years of slogging and working hard, she got that plush home, a new car, and everything else she needed.

But it did not feel like the movie her mind had played, all her eyes saw was bigger space.

She stood in front of her closet one morning—rows of grey, black, and white blazers. Professional. Sophisticated. Boring. She used to love colors as a kid, would spend hours picking out bright dresses. She used to be naughty and goofy, playing pranks on people, making her sister laugh until they both got in trouble. Now she was this sophisticated young woman who wore monochrome and smiled politely in meetings.

She seemed to have achieved her dream, but she didn't feel anything. Wasn't all this supposed to make me happy? she thought. Where is that feeling?

She felt emotionless. She wanted to cry, but was never able to.

It was all silent, like a silent hum, a numbing feeling.

Her parents visited her in her new abode and she felt satisfied after seeing their smiles. They walked through each room, touching the countertops, standing on the patio. Her father pulled her into a hug. "You did it," he said.

But when they left, the hollowness consumed her again.

She looked at her phone and thought of talking to somebody.

Mary - Work

Adam - Work

Chloe - Work

...and many more work contacts. She was hardly able to find any non-work person on her phone.

She tried to feel bad, but there was no time.

Adam from work was calling. There was a meeting they had to get to.

She sprung from her office seat, grabbed her bag, and walked out—forgetting her tea for the third time that week.

They reached the meeting venue, but the client was running late. So, they had to wait for about an hour.

She saw empty seats in the lobby area and sat there.

The venue was a hotel, and they were supposed to meet the client over coffee.

One hour is great to check emails and respond to urgent things.

She opened her phone and got to it.

Twenty minutes into responding to emails, she saw somebody sit down next to her. Wrinkles on her face, walking stick in hand.

She seemed to be a lady in her late 70s. She seemed chirpy and had a pleasant personality.

Then the lady started talking.

"Hi, busy day?"

"Umm... just checking emails."

"I forget the last time I got that busy."

"Oh really? Yeah, you look pretty relaxed."

"I am, but your eyes look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Haha, yes, but work takes precedence."

"You know, I worked all my life, never really enjoyed it. I did it for money, money I could use to host my own dance workshops and do things I like."

"Oh really? Are you a dancer?"

"Yes, I used to be when I was younger. The only time I felt free, myself, and fell in love with me."

Amy felt a huge knot in her throat.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"When I was working, I put a lot of pressure on myself to do better each time, but I never got any recognition for it. I thought I wasn't doing enough, so I tried harder. Still nothing. My past always acted like a bully—'You're not doing enough; you were wrong about XYZ.' It never acted as a teacher."

Amy's hands had gone still on her phone.

"Then one day, my friend asked me to come along for a dance class with her, and that changed my life."

"How did it change your life?"

"Well, when you are out there dancing, moving, you feel that space around you that allows you to go wherever you want. The bully is not active. I take control of where I want to go. I am myself, the way I want to be, and not defined by one part such as the bully, you know?"

Amy looked shocked.

She managed to say, "Umm... no, I don't know, but I am so happy for you that you found your calling."

The old lady chuckled and said, "I am sure you will too."

"Hey, so sorry for the delay. We are now ready to take you in for the massage." Somebody from the hotel spa came over and gestured for the old lady to follow them.

The interaction ended there, but for Amy, it was the beginning of something.

That evening when she went home, she couldn't stop thinking. Her mind wasn't stopping. She felt she had gotten her life wrong somehow.

At that moment, she called her sister. They barely spoke nowadays because of her work schedule, but she knew she would answer her call.

"Oh my god, it's you! Long time no see," said her sister.

Her sister used to work as a therapist in her home country. For the first time ever, Amy opened up to her and shared everything. Her sister was a patient listener. They talked and ended the conversation after almost two hours. The longest conversation Amy had had in a long time.

The next morning, Amy woke up and knew what she had to do based on the conversation she had with her sister.

She paced up and down in her room.

Fingers trembling.

Heart racing.

Cold sweat engulfing her body.

She took a deep breath, opened a contact, and dialed.

"Hello, Happy Place Counseling, how may I help you today?"

"Umm... hi, so I would like to be matched with a therapist," said Amy.