I have been mostly silent much of my life. As an introvert growing up in a family who couldn’t “hear” me and a world who didn’t understand me, silence came naturally to me. Words were always slow to form, regardless of my desire to do so. My attempts to speak into my world invariably failed. And, as a result, the silence that befell me was both deafening and defeating. It was more unbearable to speak and not be heard than to not speak at all.
NOISY SILENCE
This silence was anything but silent. The noise within me was a cacophony of sound. My soul was screaming in anguish, and clanging and banging of anger and frustration. Many words came to mind, but they remained stuck, running in circles each trying to overpower the other; loud torrents of retribution and shame, rivers of despair, waves of excitement, deep longings for release, passionate hope, unrelenting belief and a desperate commitment to love.
My eleventh grade English teacher wrote a note on one of my homework assignments, “I see and sense that you have much to say. Why don’t you speak?” He was a progressive, late 60’s kind of English teacher who was more philosopher than a literature instructor. He engaged our class most days on the pressing issues of the times. The assigned subject matter was merely an after thought.
HEATED DEBATE
Mr. Lenchitz dug behind our preconceptions, prodded us to think beyond the typical rhetoric and to express our deepest beliefs. I loved listening to the often heated discussions – student to student, teacher to student and student to teacher – the debates were often fierce. My classmates were some of the brightest and most verbal students in my high school. Children of parents who were lawyers, doctors, and professionals in nearby New York City. My classmates were fired up about Viet Nam, as was I, and passionate about freedom, peace, human rights, and equality. I had thoughts. Many of them. But I remained silent, often hating myself because I did so, feeling deep shame because I could not stand up to the test of these debate.
My silence has been both a curse and a blessing in my lifetime. It becomes less of a curse and more of a blessing as time goes by. I have learned to accept myself, just as I am. I am also less silent for sure, as the years often release the most reluctant speakers from the grip of silence.
GIFTS OF SILENCE
Not speaking, however, taught me to listen. It taught me to watch and observe. It taught me patience. Silence also taught me to look for answers within myself. Not talking helped me discover the meaning of true silence in a world that prefers to talk itself into the ground. I respect silence now, when once I cursed it. We are all capable of silence. It is where we will find our deepest truth and strength.
A couple of days ago, my Facebook erupted. It seems something I posted created an argument among followers. A torrent of words and rhetoric filled the comment section. I scanned the dialogue, looking for comments that were helpful to the conversation. Most were not. Anger, name calling, defensive behavior, posturing, fear, hurt feelings. It was clear meeting of minds, common ground, understanding would not occur. Very little listening was taking place. This seems to be the way people have come to attempt to settle issues in this country. Would that everyone would just be silent, take action instead, do what one is called to do in her heart. Conversation is not needed or necessary when we follow our inner guidance, most especially if emotions muddy the water.
DIALOGUE OR CONFUSION
Conversation and dialogue between two people who speak different languages can not move things forward. Rather it confuses and angers, and diverts our attention from what is most important. And, it spreads a cloud so thick that new options can’t be found.
Like silence, conversation is a blessing and a curse. When it comes to silence, however, Caroline Myss gives us something to work toward, something to aspire to, a place within us that is a treasure to be found. I still usually choose silence during debates. I choose to listen, reflect, weed through and weigh and measure the words of others against my own heart. In the end, acting from our own conscience and heart is what we are meant to do.
If you are an introvert I highly recommend Quiet – The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking – for current research and a rich understanding of the nature of introversion.
I appreciate your raw honesty in all your posts Dorothy. I was very much like you growing up. I had lots to stay but held back and took everything in. My home life made me fear using my voice. As I grew older I became bolder, always full of opinion. But in this author world and with social media I don’t voice my opinions. The world is full of misunderstand, as you said. Everything is judged for its political correctness so I keep those conversations intimate.
I think that’s why we’re writers, don’t you? It has to come out somewhere! I’ve lost patience with the need to be PC. Kindness is my guide and I too prefer one-on-one conversations and more intimate gatherings. DS
Great post, Dorothy. I had the same kind of childhood experience, always afraid to talk because I feared being judged and bullied. when I started making my opinions known, I was shushed, leading me to believe I was an idiot. I often felt overwhelmed by the feeling of being stuffed with words that had no way to get out and bring me relief. Even vomiting could not bring me freedom.
These days I’ve learned that what I have to say is Important and am much freer with my words.
Hi Dorothy,
Your posts are so inspiring and encourage me to keep moving forward with my plans to have my own website and finally allow my voice to be heard. It’s been hard. I’m an optimistic person, but it’s very hard to keep on track. I haven’t completely quelled the fear that no one will care what I have to say. I keep telling myself right now, it’s enough that I CARE and the rest will follow. I love your blog and the ladies who post their comments — all of you help me even though you don’t know me…. thank you so much!