the silenCe

Arianna Schiavello

To battle with one’s self is a battle like no other. The feeling of being trapped in between four walls becomes suffocating after you’ve been there for what seems like years. The silence is as deafening as a blow horn being blasted into your ears. Then you remember, it’s only been a couple months. Then again, if only someone had warned me what a couple months of isolation could truly do to a person maybe, just maybe I could’ve prevented the outcome.

Being bound to my home like I was on house arrest humbled me and made me realize the beauty of being outside. Looking back at myself now, shriveled up on the cold floors of my new dining room, pitch black outside my windows as the world around me slept soundly, I wish I could tell that helpless and confused girl who hugged her knees tightly for some sort of relief that she would be freed sooner or later. That those tears that came pouring out of her eyes would soon dry up and cease to fall. And that her shoulders wouldn’t be so tense anymore as long as she waited just a bit more. That everything was going to be okay in due time, as long as she stayed strong.

Even now, thinking back to a time where I was bound to my home with shackles for the greater good of humanity still pains me, knowing how much it hurt. Of course, I would do anything if it bettered my safety as well as others. However, home was a place of solitude and a place for me to escape the overstimulation of the world around me. Knowing that there was a time when my home was my enemy, when I started to grow weary of my family, and when I felt the most alone truly makes my heart ache. It was a time of change, and yet I felt like

I was standing still. Stuck in cement as I watched everyone who walked past me grow further and further away from me.

A time of great change for me was when my family decided to move from my childhood home to a new home just ten minutes away. We would be living on our own. No more having my grandparents below us and no more having my aunt, uncle, and cousin above us. No more being in the middle of family drama. We would be starting a whole new chapter in our lives while experiencing a pandemic at the same time. Leaving my childhood home was a big stepping stone for me, a new step into another level of maturity. I can remember bringing our boxes into our new home, my body filled with exhaustion but also excitement. Change usually frightens me, but the refreshing feeling of starting fresh on a blank slate filled my mind with opportunities. While I was painting my room a light shade of purple, I began to piece together the layout of my new room as I scanned the open space. This new home was going to hold my most joyous moments and my most depressing moments, all of which would change me into becoming a better person not just to others but also to myself. I found myself in extra activities and education as well as taking advantage of the salty water that was just a minute away from my home. Living beside a beach gave me another sense of clarity, a new escape for me whenever things became unbearable.

Now, looking back at that girl hugging her knees as she sits on the floor silently crying for someone to help her escape her own home, I feel for her immensely. I wish I could warn her that the times ahead would only get harder for her. That she would have to endure it for just a bit longer. However, I also want to thank her for enduring it. Thank her for pulling through and making her way through that thick black fog that wanted to swallow her whole. That the home she dreaded would soon become her safe space. It would be a place of imagination and exploration, as well as happiness. It would also be a place of rehabilitation and unfortunately some sadness, but that’s always good. I want to tell her that she has made me so unbelievably proud and that it’s because of her courage that I am where I am now. I’m breathing and walking on my own two feet again. No longer in that cement but walking ahead of those who were once ahead of me. Due to her trial and error, I was able to create a solid ground for our two feet to stand on.

However, I want her to appreciate one thing that scared her the most that isn’t so bad now. The silence. The silence that surrounded her when she cried countless times. When she wanted someone to be there for her, there silence was, wrapped around her without question. That silence would soon become her best friend, her greatest escape from all the loud noises that overstimulated her. It came in all shapes and sizes. Music, sounds of home, the waves from the ocean, the pages of books, her room, and so much more. Her silence was hers and she could control it to fit her needs.

Was the battle with myself worth it? Yes. Would I go through those two long years of constant change and uncertainty again to get to where I am? Yes. Because I learned to appreciate so many little things in the world, and I got to appreciate one big thing that was under my nose the whole time. That was so scary before but is the biggest comfort now. The silence.