The Passenger Princess: Finding Joy in Quiet Company
Being a passenger princess today felt luxurious.
Someone driving on a smooth highway that rocked me along the sundrenched seat while I got to play DJ with the vibey music that pulses my heartbeat into a steady rhythm of relaxation. A quiet, no need to talk presence allowed me to sing freely, giggle to the lyrics, and close my eyes as the warmth from the sun made me smile from within. The glee that came over me when the answer was yes to “Can I play DJ?”
Gratitude in the Simple Things
Just so grateful for a moment of quiet company taking care of me and enjoying what I enjoyed… good music and quality silence laced with playful freedom.
Memories of Conflict
I have multiple memories of fighting over the radio… and I don’t mean payfully… I mean a serious battle for control. “It’s my car.. my music” kind of statements made me feel like “I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m here”… which snowballs into “I guess I don’t matter” to “It doesn’t make a difference that I’m here”. Small requests met with big conflict or inaccurate accusations. Flashbacks bring up feelings of sadness and anger as I remember an intense reaction to an innocent desire. My request caused a fight, and the weapons of choice used against me were accusations of selfishness and a rejection of sharing a connection.
Feeling Cherished Through Music
Funny how something as simple as allowing me to play DJ can make me feel so cherished. As the driver simply tapped their fingers on the steering wheel to one of my favourite songs I felt so connected. “Do you like this song?” I asked with surprise. An observation that you’re (actually) enjoying my music. Two people are enjoying the ride. A mutually enjoyable experience. It’s so simple and oh so very lovely, it makes me cry because its simplicity was rarely gifted in my past.
Craving Quiet Company
I crave quiet company whose presence feels mutually enjoyable, like a fish craves water. I just want someone to enjoy what I enjoy. A movie… a song… an activity… a conversation. Even the idea of just peacefully lying with each other, enjoying the mismatched rhythm of our breathing, slowly starting to merge into a simultaneous sigh sounds luxurious. It feels necessary to my very existence, but I feel that I am a fish out of water who has developed feet in order to walk across the street and purchase bottled water so I don’t die.
Anxiety Robs The Present
Having this experience alongside living with a close friend for 10 days gives me anxiety because it feels like I’m finally in the ocean (what a relief)… but I’ve also spotted the rusty unplugged drain at the bottom letting my life source seep away. The anxiety of it being gone in the future robs the peace of it being provided in the present.
I either pretend the drain doesn’t exist… frantically try to prevent its function, or wait for something else to happen? Who knows… maybe another fish will come along with a plug and we can bob along in the ocean together.
These are my honest and raw thoughts,
I hope they help,
Katie
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