To You Who Are Searching for Sounds to Help You Sleep | The Story of When I Couldn't Listen to Music and Searched Earnestly for 'Sound'

Good evening.

I'm yo-chan, an office worker in my late thirties who is lost in life.

I have taken leave from work twice.

Both times, I reached my capacity and
my physical and mental health collapsed.

Two years ago, when I took my second leave of absence,

I found that I could
no longer listen to the music I loved at all.


Even the songs by the bands I adored
became completely unbearable to my ears.

Even listening to those beloved songs that used to be my emotional support
failed to move my heart.

In fact, I even felt they were 'noisy'.

Looking back now, I think
there were signs of this even before I took my leave.

The energetic voices of high school girls echoing on the commuter train or
the train announcements made by a female voice.


High-pitched sounds pierced my ears like thorns,
echoed in my head,
and I remember it being so painful
that I wanted to cover my ears.

The moment I felt that not being able to listen to music or sound
was truly painful
was during a sleepless night.


I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't.


Desperate to do something about this agonizing time,
I searched earnestly for 'sounds to help me sleep'.

Quiet music without lyrics,

laid-back jazz,

healing music,

the sound of a clear stream,

sounds of the natural world,

the sound of a bonfire,

the sound of rain,

the sound of waves.

All of them had high-pitched sounds mixed in,
which I felt were noisy,
painful to my ears,
and I couldn't accept them at all.




Even so, wanting to hear some kind of sound,
I searched earnestly for 'low-frequency sounds'.

At one point,
I finally found a 'sound' I could listen to.

It was the sound of the 'deep sea'.

Sounds that are not music

Sounds without high frequencies mixed in

Sounds that are quiet, yet still playing

The sound I was looking for was there—a low-frequency sound.

In days filled only with things I couldn't do,
for me, who couldn't even listen to music,
when I encountered this sound,
I was truly happy.


Because I had encountered something I could do:
I could "listen."

Just because I found this sound
doesn't mean I was able to fall asleep right away, but

on those sleepless,
lonely, and painful nights,

the reassurance and sense of security
of having a "sound I could listen to"
were a great salvation.


As my condition improved,
the number of sounds I could listen to gradually increased,
and I became able to
enjoy music again.

For me, as someone for whom music is a daily support,
the experience of my ears rejecting even the music I loved most
or sounds meant to be healing
was a great shock, but

the "deep sea sound" I found during that time
acted like a guardian
on those sleepless nights.


I hope that, right now, to someone like I was back then,
who cannot listen to music
and is searching for a "sound" to rely on,
this "deep sea sound" will reach them.

Thank you for reading until the end.


I would be happy if this note
could serve as a small hint
for someone who, like me, is feeling lost in life.