Public Singing

Dearest You,

There is nothing better than being alone in a crowd. The extrovert in me tingles at the energy. The HSP in me loves being alone with her own thoughts. (Just trust me, it’s a vibe, we can talk about it another time.) My favorite place to be alone in public is New York City. While I only grew up a short distance from NYC which was cool, enjoying multiple summer interning in the city was incredibly cool. I sang all the fucking time. Nobody cared. It’s New York.

Let me be clear, not loud singing…like humming level but with words. I’m not totally nuts.

So, singing in public where no one care’s is the best. I tried to take this home at the end of my city-summer to my college in North Carolina…I felt actually nuts doing it there. But, occasionally, even as an adult, I sometimes whip out this socially deviant side of me. Like, today.

I was walking my dog Jasper and listening to “We Can Do Hard Things”. The phone was in my pocket and I just turned it up loud enough to hear it in my very quiet suburban neighborhood. This very beautiful thing happens at the end of most podcasts where they play Glennon’s daughter, Tish Melton’s, song. It’s called “We Can Do Hard Things”. It’s important to know that this podcast (and song) are magical at all stages of life. But, I found this podcast at a devastating time in my life. So I listened to Glennon, and also Tish, A LOT.

So, I was walking my dog Jasper and listening to “We Can Do Hard Things”. The phone was still in my pocket and I just turned it up a little louder to hear it in my very quiet suburban neighborhood… and the song comes on. I say, “Fuck it", I’m singing”. No one was around and so I let my silvery (or what sounds silvery in my head) melody slip out my mouth. I am so proud. YES public singing. Yes public singing you socially deviant maven who does LOTS of hard things.

Then, I heard the steps. I stopped singing. The steps ran by my left shoulder. A lady ran by, did the no-expression-wave-greeting-known-by-all-running-humans, but said nothing. Now all of this happened on an exhale of the word, “sideeeeeee…” So I didn’t stop singing I just sort of let the word run out.

Shit! I’m singing in public. I feel weird. Oh, no what if SHE feels weird that I was singing. SHIT what if she feels weird that her existence made me STOP singing. Shit I don’t was her to be uncomfortable thinking she made me uncomfortable. (Hello, empath-self.) Shit…I MUST keep singing.

So I sang the next word. I sang the whole song. I sang it for her, just in case. And, I sang it for me. It was awesome. Nobody cared.

With Love, From Me

Dianna