Silence

"Be silent."

This past week I've been reflecting on why I have trouble communicating how I feel (physically but also emotionally) to others. I've realized that one of the the overarching messages I've been told all my life is that I need to be silent.

The problem is I'm not a silent person. I'm loud. I'm talkative. I'm highly expressive. I'm anything but silent, but over the years I learned that in order to survive I need to silence who I am.

Side Note: I'm about to divulge more about my childhood than I normally do (to anyone, let alone strangers on the internet). It makes me especially uncomfortable to talk about my family, so I may be kind of vague. They made a lot of mistakes, but I still love them and don't want to hurt them with what I have to say.

Saying that my childhood was dysfunctional is like saying the arctic is kind of cold. Yes, it could have been way worse, but it still seemed like my family could never catch a break. We had issues. We had a lot of issues. And we were not allowed to talk about it (and if I did I would feel incredibly guilty for doing so). We couldn't let anyone know what was going on, because that would reflect poorly not only on us, but on God. Good Christians can't be abusive, addicted, manipulative, or depressed after all. They would never use those words, of course, but that was the message. Pretend everything's fine, look happy, be silent. 

I'm a very curious and inquisitive person by nature which is something that I really love about myself. It's also why I like toddlers- everything is so new to them and they have so many questions, often quite beautiful questions that we take for granted as adults. My questions got me into trouble with authority when I was younger (and even when I got older in some circumstances).
My second grade teacher in particular hated that I asked so many questions. It wasn't because I couldn't understand whatever it was she was teaching, but because I wanted to know more, and it drove her nuts. This was when we were first starting to learn more about the world around us and how it worked and I wanted to know everything. I questioned everything because I wanted to understand it. I was quite passionate about learning, just not in a way that my teacher appreciated. To quiet my questions my teacher would insult me and encourage the other students to do the same. She told me I was stupid. She told me it was my fault when other kids would act out. She stood by and watched kids do some rather horrible things to me and never punished them. Don't ask questions, don't challenge adults, do it the way I tell you to, be silent. It wasn't until I got to college and my professors encouraged my curiosity that I loved learning again.

I experienced a similar message in the church, only it was laced with shame and guilt. "Do you think you know better than God?" "The Bible says it, I trust it, so should you," "You don't have to understand it, you just have to have faith." Your opinion doesn't matter as much because you're young and a woman and a sinner. They never said it, but that was their message. Don't challenge the Bible, don't think about things too much, don't question tradition, be silent. (That one didn't stick, thankfully, but I did stay silent for far too long)

My whole life I have been tremendously accident prone. I've been injured more times than I can remember and have accumulated a handful illnesses over the years...it's almost impressive. But I have an incredibly difficult time expressing what's going on in my body to others - especially to doctors. I can never seem to find the right words, or I can't think of how I'm feeling fast enough for them, so they write me off. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to know there is something wrong with your body and having the people who are supposed to help you dismiss you because you are unable to accurately express what's going on inside of you. I figured out why this was such a problem for me recently (which led to reflecting which led to this post). 

So I've always cried easily. It's annoying and I can rarely control it. This (along with love of hyperbole) got me labeled as a drama queen when I was a kid. Because I was sick and/or injured so often growing up, my family had to endure a lot of tears and lots of "my ____ hurts." My family had bigger things to worry about most of the time, so any ailment that was not 'doctor visit' worthy was a nuisance to them. "Stop whining!" "Suck it up," "You're such a baby." Don't get me wrong, when I was seriously ill my mother would take tremendous care of me and was wonderfully nurturing, but her sympathy was unpredictable. I think my sister thought I was just trying to get attention most of the time, and was angry when I did get attention, so she never hesitated to mock my pain (this was just when I was young - she's very understanding now). I don't remember my dad being around much when I was hurt or sick as a kid, but he had his own pain to focus on so I tried not to bother him. 

Basically, I was mocked for expressing any pain that wasn't deemed serious. I broke my leg on a field trip in sixth grade and my mother had to drive out to the country to pick me up. She was so angry with me because I inconvenienced her and it wasn't until the doctors confirmed that I broke my leg that she gave me any kind of sympathy.
When I got older I developed chronic pain (and a host of chronic illnesses). If I paid too much attention to what my body was trying to tell me I would go insane, so I learned to ignore how I was feeling. I'd met other people with chronic pain that would just not shut up about it. They always had to one up everyone. "You think your back hurts..." that sort of thing. I was determined to not be that way. I don't want to bring anyone down and I really don't want to annoy you with my problems. I can't tell you how I'm feeling because I've been telling my body to shut up for so long. Don't be weak, don't complain, don't inconvenience anyone, be silent.

I've forgotten how to listen to myself because for so long all I've heard is that I need to be silent.

I want so badly to be able to tell you how I feel when you ask me, but I can't help but fear that if I do, you'll tell me I should have stayed silent.