The Tyranny of Sound and the Power of Music

Dealing with internal "noise" has made me acutely aware of sound. The noise on the freeway is deafening, drowning out all other sound. Most radio music grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. I often opt for silence -- as much as I can get. I got a classical guitar CD, and listen to it pretty regularly. It helps. When babies are of a certain age, they feel disturbed by the space around them, so mothers "swaddle" them - or wrap them tightly in cloth - to help them feel secure, protected -- enveloped by a warmth reminiscent of the mother's womb, I guess. My soul feels that return to security -- a feeling of extreme safety surrounds me when I listen to this music, while most other sounds make me feel attacked. Other good sounds: wind; a cat purring; leaves rustling; rain or river or ocean noises; soft white noise - like the humidifier. Sounds that put me on edge: traffic; "bad" white noise like the hum of lights and/or electricity; most modern music; dj's - yes, all of them; commercials - even billboards and business signs seems to be "screaming" out at me, and I hate their noise; kids or teenagers or babies crying (a sound I used to love - in a weird way). There are others, but I guess it's not necessary to form a comprehensive list.

I've never appreciated the introvert's need for times of silence so much before.

Light in the Darkness

Maybe this is a strange place for me to write about my battle with depression and anxiety. I had planned to create a new blog site for this journal, but when I saw the title above, I knew it belonged here. This is a struggle between light and dark. Isn't that the essence of religion?

I plan to tell my thoughts and feelings honestly, and sometimes my path is dark. There are times I feel ashamed of the thoughts I fight through -- my own thoughts. They haunt me always, and they influence greatly what I do and say and how I feel, but they are unconscious. They work in darkness, and when I bring them into the light, the errors in logic, the weakness and hopelessness that lies imbedded in them, becomes apparent. By writing of them, will I increase their power? Or destroy it?

Will I humiliate myself - reveal myself as something lower than what people think I am? Will I lose your love? Your respect? Sometimes I think: If I can just hold it together -- if I can just hide how deep and encompassing this weakness is -- maybe people will just think I'm having an off day (off week, off year) and their opinion of me won't change. People have always given me the impression that they think I am intelligent, talented, strong, confident, inspiring. I've always been hesitant to accept the praise, but now I'm afraid that I will lose it.

As I am writing, a memory rises up. Freshman year, USU. Depressed. It was situational, and a reasonable response considering the traumatic event that led me there. However, what haunts me now is not the traumatic event, nor the depression I fell into. It's the response of some of my "friends". Friends that had felt like family to a girl away from home for the first time. They started doing things without me, and eventually when I said something, they responded by telling me that I was too sad, that it was too hard to be around me. And that was that.

Such is the fear that drives me to keep up appearances (though I doubt they fool anyone): I am afraid that by letting my thoughts out, that I will either drag you into depression with me, or I will repulse you with my weakness.

Regardless, I plan to move forward. I hope I can be honest.

I was told in a blessing that I would need great courage and confidence to make it through some of the daily tasks in my life. Never in my life has that been more true than now.