The Choice to Be Silent
When nothing else is left.
I hate silence.
I’ve always believed silence is one of the most painful things you can do to someone who doesn’t deserve it. The weight of an unanswered message, the finality of an unreturned call, the slow and cruel realization that someone has chosen to erase you or even if they didn’t erase you to make you feel like they have, to make you feel like nothing… it lingers far longer than any word ever could.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always been someone who (over) explains. Someone who tries. Someone who gives the benefit of the doubt, even when doubt has long turned into certainty…
But what happens when words stop meaning anything?
When… you’ve said I can’t do this anymore more times than you can count.
When… you’ve tried to end it with words, only to be pulled back in.
When… you’ve poured out your heart, only for your pain to be met with indifference, excuses, or empty promises.
When… you have been available, present, and patient… but when you needed the same in return, there was nothing.
At what point do you stop trying?
And if you do… if you choose that one thing you fear… if you choose silence instead… does that make you cruel?
Or does it mean you’ve finally learned?
It doesn’t sit right with me. It never will.
I felt the bitter pain of silence way too many times.
I know what it feels like to be met with silence. When I desperately needed answers… when I longed for closure… when I wasn’t ready to let go.
That silence still hurts, even now.
So, how do I justify choosing it myself? A thought I can’t shake off.
Maybe because this isn’t the same. Maybe… because sometimes silence isn’t an act of punishment (like I was left to feel in the past) but, in this case, an act of self-preservation…
I know what will happen if I answer that call and say “hi.”
How quickly that “hi” will unravel into the same cycle I’ve tried to break a dozen times before.
I know because I’ve lived it too many times.
I’ve answered those calls where I let my guard down, chose to be there one more time, and let my empathy get the best of me. In some instances, I was even met with criticism, scolding, or even the phone hanging up on my face because I didn’t use the right tone or react the way they wanted me to.
But I am human, too. I have a heart that works overtime, if you ask me.
And as a human, I am allowed to feel! To have a tone sometimes. To react…rightfully or not… without constantly worrying about angering someone who should be showing me the same consideration. And without feeling like I have to walk on eggshells… as I have too many times before.
This time… rather than making myself small again, holding my feelings in, and trying so hard to soothe someone, to be what they need…
I choose silence.
Not to hurt anyone, but to stop hurting myself.
And just maybe, that’s reason enough.
Because in the end, that’s the distinction:
I am not like the people who have hurt me. I rethink my actions and choices over a hundred times and think about the other person even more.
Silence isn’t always a weapon. Sometimes, it’s just what’s left when you choose yourself.
