Empty Sounds of Silence

I sit in the 1970s upholstered MadMen-esque chair directly opposite therapist lady, half my size, twice my age. I sit. She sits. And we sit. I say nothing. She says nothing. For far too long.

I need you to say something, I say. I can’t sit here in silence all the time.

Why not, she therapizes. Why does it bother you to sit with your own thoughts?

I don’t want to play this game. I need help, real help, and stewing in my own thoughts and emotions and turmoil led me here – not to sit in silence together, but to figure shit out, so it’s not so quiet, not anymore.

She nods. Says nothing.

It’s a stare-off.

I live alone. Work from home. Run alone. Eat alone. Walk alone.

Except for the dog.

Who is great company but not so great on conversation.

I sit in silence every day. Just me. Alone with my thoughts, which is not very calming most days and especially these days.

I need to hear people. Hear this person, highly qualified to help get me out of my head, and into my life, but instead, there she sits.

I stand, grab my bag, and turn to go.

“Please sit down,” she says finally. “Kate: don’t go.”

I need someone to talk to, I plead.

Again.

To validate, comment, advise, correct, critique, comfort, reflect, direct, witness, respond, acknowledge, analyze, evaluate, decipher, explain, console, challenge, support.

To help make sense of the silence, not add to it.

There’s nothing more to say, I say.

And hand her a check and walk out the door, closing it behind me.

I drive home in silence and when I walk into the house, our house when there was an us, and even the dog doesn’t bark. I look for her under the couch and in the crate and find her sound asleep in my bed, sleeping on the side unused, not even slightly aware I am even there at all.

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NYWC Jeff: Oct 2021: prompt The Sound of Silence. Staying quiet when you feel like shouting.