Silence. It’s a word that often carries the promise of peace and calm, but between friends and family, silence can take on a much heavier weight. There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t soothe; instead, it sits like a stone on your chest, leaving you with a feeling of helplessness and loneliness that is profoundly painful—a pain that seems to echo in the chambers of your soul.
When those we love retreat into silence, it’s as if the thread connecting us begins to fray. The questions swirl in your mind, unrelenting: Are they angry? Hurt? Indifferent? Or are they simply unable to find the words to share what they’re going through? The not knowing is its own kind of torment. And while you yearn to bridge the gap, you’re left standing on the edge of a chasm, unsure of how to reach them.
It’s easy to feel paralyzed in these moments. The absence of words can feel like rejection, even when you know deep down that might not be their intention. Yet, their silence creates a barrier that blocks the path to understanding and connection. And so, you sit with the ache of it, your mind playing over every shared moment, trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.
But here’s the thing: finding the correct words or ways to express oneself is often incredibly difficult. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Staring at the phone, typing and erasing the same message over and over, or sitting across from someone we love and feeling the words catch in our throat. It’s a universal struggle—this fear of saying the wrong thing or exposing too much of our vulnerability. And so, silence becomes the refuge. But in that refuge, there is also isolation.
When words do come, even clumsy or incomplete ones, they carry with them an opportunity. Verbal expression, however imperfect, allows us to glimpse into each other’s hearts. It gives us something to work with, something to hold onto. Words open doors to conversation, to understanding, and to action. They allow us to digest what the other person is feeling, to begin to process their needs alongside our own, and to figure out how to move forward together.
Sometimes, it’s not about finding the “right” words; it’s about finding any words. A simple “I’m struggling,” or “I need a moment,” can act as a lifeline. It’s not the full story, but it’s a start. From there, we can begin the messy, beautiful work of understanding and supporting one another. Because that’s what relationships are: messy and beautiful, frustrating and rewarding, fragile and resilient all at once.
If you’re someone who’s been met with silence, know this: your feelings are valid. It’s okay to feel hurt, confused, or even angry. But try to leave a crack in the door—a small space for patience and compassion. Silence is rarely about you; it’s more often about the other person’s internal struggles. And if you’re someone who finds themselves retreating into silence, remember this: your words don’t have to be perfect. They just have to be yours.
In the end, connection isn’t about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, imperfect and human, and saying, “I’m here.” Because even in the midst of silence, there’s a deep yearning for understanding—on both sides. And when we dare to break that silence, we open the door to healing, to growth, and to a love that is willing to navigate the hard things.
So, let’s be brave. Let’s fumble through the words, embrace the awkwardness, and lean into the discomfort. Let’s choose connection over perfection and love over fear. Because in the end, it’s the willingness to speak and to listen that keeps our hearts tied together, even when the world feels heavy.
These are my feelings. You may have all of them, some of them, or none of them…