When silences are silent screams

Me LA For any codependent the subtext of silence is rejection. Silence is a gaping hole that we fill with our fears and insecurities. When we are silent in retaliation our silence is filled with hostility, fear and silent screams. Silence is torment. It is also often the calm before the storm and we live in fear of the storm breaking but the tension is so horrendous that the arrival of the storm is almost a relief.

My husband and I were going to India. I was seeking a spiritual reconciliation and intimacy that I was sure could be found somewhere outside of ourselves. We had not been speaking for days before the departure date. On the day of our departure he assaulted me and I lay trembling in the bathroom thinking that it really wasn’t a day too soon that we left for India. Then he SCREAMED at me that our airport transport had arrived and we finally arrived in India without a word having been said.

We travelled to Pune which is an ugly industrial city that is an assault on the senses. It was noisy, dirty, chaotic and smelly. On the outside we were clean and elegant, sophisticated and in charge of our lives. I watched this scramble for survival going on through the car window. Despite our appearance the silence between us was chaotic, busy, noisy with hostility and bursting with tension. I was scrambling for my survival no less than they were.

The ashram, by contrast was beautiful. There were the most glorious gardens with water gently meandering over rocks into pools and ponds filled with lotus flowers. Through meditation I learnt that we could watch the rush hour of our thoughts without being attached to them. Osho reminded us that what we thought was all important five years ago is just a dim memory today. In the gardens of the ashram I fervently wished for the day that this heartache would be just a distant memory.

It took months of practice before my silences stopped being silent screams. With time silence became an opportunity for reflection. As my silence grew quieter my “little voice”, that I like to call my higher self, started to whisper. The quieter I became the louder that whisper became.

One morning I watched him putting on his watch before leaving for work and the thought was, “What will your life look like in 5 years time?” When I got up that day I began to make plans to leave for America. When I got here I couldn’t stand anything but silence. Even music was unbearable for me.

I have struggled with silence for many years but finally my silence is filled with serenity. There is such a gift in a serenity filled silence. My fervent wish made in the gardens of the ashram have been granted – my heartache is a dim and distant memory.

Author, foodie, political junkie and currrently writing a series for children, giving bible stories a much needed makeover, free from religious dogma. Author of Hot Cuisine, a book written on men and food and co-wrote When Loving Him Hurts and The Affair.

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Posted in abuse, codependency, domestic violence, healing, relationships

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