Silence is a Symphony

A pot of Earl Grey sat on a table varnished thickly to absorb the scratches of every day use. The screech of the milk steamer at the counter roared over the top of the background music that clashed with the chitter chatter of other coffee shop dwellers. I hung over my Kindle proof reading the eBook. A whole ten months of blogs to trawl through for edits. A task that, several blog entries in, reminded me about all I’d been through over the years and more recently my process with the psychologist. Suddenly I was being reminded of the positive progress I had made. How much work I had put into my own wellbeing and how I should never forget that.

That evening I returned home. Something inside wasn’t quite right. While I was tired and it felt an effort to make my dinner I wasn’t particularly unhappy but the phone rang. I let it go until it stopped. For some reason I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. It rang again and so I continued to cut the pepper into slices. A few minutes later it rang for a third time, “Oh for gods sake, give up!” I said to chopping board. I slammed the knife down on the table, went to the master socket and pulled the phone cord from the socket. Silence.

I returned to the kitchen feeling myself welling up a little inside and questioned myself. Why? I’m not upset about anything, I’m not particularly angry. I continued cooking, stirring the pepper, the chicken and tomatoes. Releasing red juices for my pasta. I realised I just wanted an evening unbothered. I wanted just one evening alone and I was content with that. The silence itself was a loud enjoyable symphony. It was aloneness when I needed it. The phone stayed unplugged for the whole evening and not once did I have the urge to plug it back in.

–♥–

I saw a couple of girls playing live music in a bar. The neon glowed behind the stage and they sang in perfect harmony to a compact intermit audience. Their haunting vocals penetrated the walls and the souls of those who stood to watch. Those who were still talking soon dropped to a silence and the only thing we could hear was the melancholic original songs from the low stage.

I looked at them and couldn’t help but compare myself to them. Would I prefer to be there as them on that stage as they are, sure they were probably fifteen years younger than me and who doesn’t want to be in their twenties with the uncertainty of the future in front of them. When it came to the shallow observations of looks I felt nothing but two different parts of my soul that fitted both of them.

The one with the skinny grey jeans and a baggy checkered shirt was completely me in the fashion as I am now. This is what I wear and how I present myself. I was wearing my grey skinnies while I watched and felt an immediate bond. The other who was sat at the mic singing lower tones and contrasting neatly with the other was wearing a skirt and black light denier tights. This was me a few years ago. It was like looking at my own progression and also looking at what I had started and never completed. How I could have done this so much earlier. How I could have been getting on with my life so much sooner. How I could have been on that stage which an acoustic guitar in much the same way and be a touch happier than I am day to day; may be.

As the psychologist used to say, you did things when they were right for you. I paraphrase but the sentiment is right. We have to do things the way we do them at the time. I have so many gender-times that I can remember when I just think I wish I had done something differently. May be having been more honest when something was said that meant I could have come out about who I really am or been a bit more understanding with another transgendered friend, done the things I wanted when I wanted. I had done though. I had been as honest as was right at the time, been as understanding as I could have been and I did the things I wanted that I was comfortable with.

Monday soon came and I was looking in the mirror where the shower condensation retreated to the edges. I grabbed my perfume and sprayed a little on my wrist. “Only a few years ago -” I thought, “I wouldn’t haven’t dared to wear perfume everyday.” Something felt like it was missing. Something I had done since I started at my current work place. I’d stopped wearing eyeliner. I’d dared to wear a little subtle eye liner and cared little about what others would think but for some reason, at some point I’d stopped. I’d become comfortable in falling back a little rather than staying just slightly out of my comfort zone. I felt a little disappointed in myself even though it hadn’t been a conscious decision.

I went into the bedroom and rummaged around until I found my dark brown eyeliner in my makeup basket. I returned to the mirror and carefully lined the edge above my lower lashes. Immediately I felt released. I left the pencil out on the glass shelf as a reminder of who I am. These are the daily little things that help me enjoy who I am.

The thing is, when it comes down to it, we do things at the time that were right that moment. I may have some minor regrets but there were reasons for not doing something at the time. Not leading the life we want sooner than later. There is never a right answer and so its time to live for the moment. Make decisions for the now and enjoy where we are. The here and now.

Until next time.

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