My heart can’t take this damage
Confronting the Silence
When I stepped away from the chaos of my life, I was met with something I hadn’t experienced in a long time: silence.
Without the constant noise of clubs, the numbing effects of whatever, or the endless stream of distractions, I was left alone with my thoughts.
It was terrifying.
For so long, I had been running from that silence. I filled every waking moment with something—anything—to avoid the quiet, because in the quiet, the intrusive thoughts I’d been burying came rushing to the surface. The self-doubt, the fear, guilt, the neglect—they were all there, waiting for me, and now there was nowhere to hide.
Confronting this meant confronting myself. It meant facing the person I was so ashamed I had become and all the things I had been trying to escape. The silence wasn’t just the absence of sound; it was the presence of everything I had been avoiding. In the quiet, there was no more running, no more distractions, just me and the reality of my situation.
It was overwhelming. The stillness made me feel exposed, vulnerable, it made me sick. I wanted to retreat back into the familiar noise, but I knew that if I did, I would just be delaying the inevitable. I had to sit with discomfort, and invite it over for dinner. With silence, it let me reveal what I had been so desperately trying to ignore.
I began to process the emotions I had been pushing down for so long. The sadness, the anger, the regret—they all surfaced, and I had to confront them head-on. It was painful, but it was also necessary. The silence forced me to acknowledge the things I had been running from, and in doing so, I started to understand why I had been running in the first place.
Slowly, silence became less of an enemy and more of a guide. Like the club lights cut through the dark, rays of light shone upon me and began to illuminate the parts of myself that needed healing, the wounds I had been trying to numb. The warmth began to heal. I taught myself how to be alone with my thoughts without letting them consume me. In the quiet, I began to find clarity, and with clarity came a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds.”
– Psalm 147:3
Confronting the silence was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it was also one of the most important. It allowed me to reconnect with myself, and to face my demons and take lethal aim at them. The silence was no longer something to be feared; it became a space for reflection, for healing, and ultimately, for growth. It was in that silence that I began to rebuild, not just my life, but myself.
