The Language of Silence

I have got an interesting story with silence.

This memory just popped in. Me, 5 years old, sitting in the back of my dad’s car in silence. My dad who was driving asked me: Why you are so quite? I reply: I am just am.

Silence to me has been a way to escape, to numb the pain, to escape the reality and to suppress what is happening around me.

Silence has been a great soother until it wasn’t anymore.

I remember telling myself: If I keep quite, it will go away. If I go with the flow, it will disappear and things will be back to normal.

Then later silence turned to be a silent killer. The more quite and accepting you are, the more it drains you and sucks the blood out of you.

Later in life I realized to use silence constructively. Not all the times to remain silent. There are times you need to speak up to ask for your rights. There are times you need to say no. There are times you need to say no to the system. And there are times you need to just let it go and find something else more productive and useful to do.

What about you? What silence means to you? What memories you associate with silence? When you come out of silence and when it becomes really convenient?