The Dual Nature of Silence: Healing and Loneliness

Silence has always been a constant companion of mine.  For some people, they might find it to be uncomfortable, even unsettling, but for me, it usually feels like home.  In silence, I don’t have to be anybody else but me.  I don’t have to impress anyone or put on a facade.  I can just simply be me, and that’s one of the most comforting feelings I know.

My life often feels hectic.  I’m always stressed out from current situations, heck even past situations.  I’m constantly overthinking, worrying, and sometimes overreacting.  Inside there’s this mental noise that just never seems to stop.  But in silence, I feel more comfortable.  It gives me space to breathe and untangle spiraling thoughts.  There’s something about the stillness of silence that feels like healing for the soul.  

But silence isn’t always soothing.  Sometimes it can be louder than anything else.  Lately, that’s been the case for me.  Loneliness has crept in, and it’s been hard to shake.  Most of the time, I’m at my best in solitude, but there are moments where I crave company.  I want someone to laugh with, talk with, and share the little details of life with.  It’s difficult because many of my closest friends live out of state, and there’s little opportunity here to socialize.  I don’t like venturing into new situations alone, so it feels challenging to step outside my comfort zone.

Truthfully, silence has a way of amplifying what’s missing.  For me, it often highlights my longing for deep connection.  I’ve never been in love before.  There was a time when I thought I was, but it was a short-lived teen romance.  But for a long time, my love life has affected me.  It’s made me feel like I’m an unlovable person, and that sticks with me.  It’s why I hate vulnerability because I fear rejection.  

Sometimes, I enjoy being single.  There’s comfort in knowing I won’t be hurt by someone else, but that comfort is both a blessing and a downfall.  On one hand, it shields me from potential pain.  On the other hand, it keeps me from forming the very connections I secretly long for.  Too many hurtful moments are ingrained into my memory and letting them go has never been easy for me.  Still, I know I need to get out of my head and into the game with far less fear and hesitation.  The real challenge now is learning to trust that love is worth the risk, even if it means lowering my guard.  

And so, silence remains.  Some days it soothes me.  Other days it presses heavily against me.  But no matter how it appears, it always teaches me something.  It reminds me of who I truly am and reveals what I need, what I long for, and what I value most.

What’s your experience with silence?  How does it affect you? I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.”

Rumi