The furnace turns off, the dishwasher stops, and I am sitting in the sound of silence. It’s loud. I can hear my blood pumping and my veins constricting in my ears. No one speaks, no radio or music plays and yet my ears are screaming as if a drum is being played within inches of my head.
I can’t explain it, but I think I can hear my anxiety as I sit trying to cope with the stress of the week. The sound intensifies and the rumbling underneath the high-pitched buzz sounds like thunder a few miles away.
I’m stuck again, only this time I’m trapped in the sound inside of my head. It’s not painful, but certainly an annoyance especially since I know when it is there, everything is more difficult.
Sometimes I can’t tell it’s there in the background until I feel the stress and irritation rising in my bones. It’s then that it is too late to come back from it quickly. Instead, it takes hours.
You’d think I’d notice the sound level rising in my own mind, but I don’t.
Not this sound.
Perhaps I’m like a frog being boiled for dinner:
The temperature goes up and up and yet I don’t know until it’s too late…
I am cooked.