Me, Myself, and I

It isn't often, surprisingly so, that I have a night alone. No kids, no plans, just me and Netflix doing it up. And a cuddly cat curled up at my side. Quite life isn't so bad I guess.

I wouldn't say I love the loudness of crowded places, but I am partial to a certain level of happy noise that comes from my sons and their friends. Having the fairly mellow hubbub as a near regular part of this atmosphere, I'm more than grateful. I must admit that I miss it, even during the little breaks and lapses like tonight.

While my outgoing, and at times endearing personality might suggest I need constant company, the reality is I spend most of my down time alone. Most of the time I enjoy it, though like tonight, it may take me awhile to settle in and really be ok with it. Change has always been a rather slow acceptance process for me.

I'm fairly certain I would have been labeled A.D.D. as a child (and it's likely I fit the bill to this day). When it's too quiet, my mind speeds up and I have difficulty focusing on any one thing. When there's background noise, it is far easier to keep the overactive areas of my brain from darting off into a thousand directions, because they are relatively occupied while the rest of me can chip away with whatever task is at hand. When I'm by myself, the television is always on, and I'm carrying on several conversations via text or messenger. Idle time is dangerous for a mind like mine.

For the duration of the evening, the boob tube will be taking the place of my sons, so that I can funnel focus into writing. Maybe it's time to learn how to be okay with silence. I've always wondered what it would be like to experience a restful mind. At the moment I cannot even begin to imagine.