Client Hurt - Session 3

(Beep. Music fades in.)

You find comfort in the silence, don’t you? I get it. I’ve never experienced it, myself, but I can understand. I can understand the appeal when silence brings peace. A pause to the chaos. A chance to gather your senses. A moment for contemplation. A calm that lets you fortify yourself. A chance to remember what this all was for, how this all started, and what it is that matters to you.

Or that’s what you wanted to use the silence for. You needed that sort of thing that you thought only the silence could provide. So, when it first settled over your home, you welcomed it. Not enthusiastically. You would have rathered that the need for it never arose. But it did arise. And now that the need is there, the silence and all it presents to you you may help. And for a while, it did just that. It was space. It was fresh air. But it’s not that anymore. Something’s changed. For the worst. What was once a haven has become a jail sentence of some kind, hasn’t it? 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

That transformation hasn’t been hard to understand. You know what is at the core of it. It’s not a problem with its nature or what silence is, is it? No, that’s not it at all. It’s not even what brought this all on, surprisingly enough. It’s not your guilt or shame distorting your experiences. You thought it would be that, but you can live with those things. You do so all the time. They followed you into the silence. They follow you into the noise. They follow you into, through, and out of everything you’ve experienced and everywhere you’ve ever been. 

They can’t hurt you anymore, you want to say. They’ve done so much damage already, you swear. But there’s something hollow about those words. They aren’t what you really mean. You’ve gotten used to saying what you don’t really mean. But you don’t want to think about that.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

There’s too much of the silence, you want to say, and you say it somewhat hurriedly. You force it out because you don’t like where I’m leading this conversation. You don’t like where it is going. You know I already know this. I know why the silence has changed for you. It went without saying. But you’d rather we talk about that. You’d rather think about that. You’d rather think about the things you can handle, the things you know for certain. Not the ones you don’t. 

Or that’s what you want to believe. It’s not even what you say or profess in a conscious contradiction of what you feel. This feels authentic. Or it’s you trying to be authentic, but you don’t know what that means right now. 

Reality itself is starting to blur. Reality is starting to make less sense. There are things you know for certain, but those things are getting harder to track. You look towards the past to try and anchor yourself, somehow. And you think you find that certainty. You find places to rest your feet that feel secure, steady ground that cannot be shaken with even the fiercest gust of wind, but as you lower your weight down onto the rock that just moments ago felt so strong, it begins to crumble away. Or you think you feel it crumb away. But you aren’t sure anymore. You don’t know what you feel.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

You didn’t rush into this relationship, you want to say. That feels significant to say. After all, this was just the beginning. It was the start of the journey that led to this: led to the two of you coming together and building a life. By some accounts, it set the tone of what was to come. And you were careful about that tone. You knew that it mattered. You knew what could go wrong. And you didn’t want it to go wrong. Partially because of the hurt involved and partially because you were already in love. 

It was love at first sight, you want to say, but you’ve never said it. It felt too soon to say it. It still does. And you’ve always taken your time. Even back then, you took your time. You measured every step. You thought every one of those step over. And then you had second thoughts. Maybe even third. You would start to fall so deeply into your own head that you risked never climbing out again. But then your partner would smile at you. And everything would feel okay. You would let yourself fall into their arms. Even though that scared you.  

You sighed when I said that. You almost lose yourself in that memory, that montage as it were. Or maybe it was the distillation of all those moments, blended together, into something beautiful. Into something you miss. To that need that you are trying to not think about. For your own sake.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Because you understand, you want to say. You understand why your partner is not talking to you, right now. You understand that there is hurt there. And it was hurt that came to be without an explanation. 

There was a reason I said no, you want to say. But you can’t say that. Because that is not an idea that can be said without a follow up, without an explanation. And you can’t offer that. So instead, you let the air lapse into silence. You let your partner fall into her own head. You tried to pull her out with a smile, just like she used to always do for you. But it didn’t work. You couldn’t do it the same way. You couldn’t help her. 

And you need to help her, you think. That’s the answer, you think. You want to say it. You won’t say it. You can’t say it. The worlds won’t come out. 

That might be the silence, though. It may be the silence around you exerting its power over you. Or teaching you. Because who is to say the answer lies within her? She asked you did she not? Maybe it’s not you, but it’s within you. It’s something you carry. From your parents. An inheritance left out for you. A terrible gift forced onto you.

You flinched when I mentioned your parents, I know. But what am I to say? This is not your choice, but it’s not mine either. This is the trial you find yourself in. This is what you are hiding from. But you can’t hide forever. It isn’t doing anything for you. 

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?