Silence is not the cold shoulder; it is emotional self‑protection. 💫 It is the cave we crawl into when our inner landscape feels too overwhelming to expose. It is the trembling pause where we try to steady ourselves, hoping the world will wait long enough for our breathing to return to normal. Silence can be a shield, a soft retreat, a way to survive when the heart feels too bruised to speak.

Although I know silence can be a form of self‑protection, it has also been the very thing that pierced me most deeply. Over the years, Mum and Dad’s silence has not felt peaceful or neutral. It has felt like being ignored, rejected and abandoned. Their quietness became a language of absence, a message that screamed, You are too much, you are unseen, your feelings do not fit here.

A child does not interpret silence as exhaustion or uncertainty; a child interprets silence as unworthiness. That kind of silence weaves itself into the soul. It becomes the lens through which we view every pause, every unanswered message, every moment when connection feels distant. It shapes how we protect ourselves, how we relate, how we love, how we hide.

The very silence that wounded me became the silence I later used to survive.

Yet the sad reality is that in our wounding, we wound others. Silence, meant to guard our fragile places, can land as rejection. Withdrawal, meant to bring calm to the storm within, can be felt by others as abandonment or dismissal.

This is something I may have inadvertently done to those closest to me — especially my husband and children — when I retreated into my pain. I never meant to shut them out; I was trying to keep myself from falling apart. My silence was not punishment. It was a trembling attempt to find ground beneath me.

These verses sit together like gold lines of kintsugi, mending what broke long before I had words for it. God sees the quiet places where human love failed us, and He steps gently into the void. Jesus does not shame us for the ways we learned to survive. He honours the child who felt alone, and He tends to the adult who still hears echoes of that loneliness.

Healing begins when we allow ourselves to tell the truth — the truth about where silence protected us, and the truth about where silence wounded us. Awareness is not condemnation; it is an invitation. An invitation into repair, restoration, and re‑learning how to stay present without abandoning ourselves or others.

💡 Reflection:

• Where has silence been a shield for you, and where has it been a wound? 🤔

• What childhood beliefs rise up when someone grows quiet? 🤔

• How have your earlier experiences shaped the way you respond to loved ones today? 🤔

• What might Jesus be whispering to the younger you who felt unseen? 🤔

• What gentle truth could you offer to the people affected by your silence? 🤔

🎺 Affirmation: My silence does not define my worth. Jesus sees every wound from the past and every place where I protected myself because I did not know another way. I am learning new patterns, receiving deeper healing, and growing into courageous connection. I am fully seen and fully loved.

🙌 Prayer: Jesus, please enter the quiet places that shaped my heart. Heal the wounds left by parental silence and the ways that silence still influences my relationships today. Restore what was lost, mend what was misunderstood, and teach me how to remain open, present, and safe in Your love. Let my voice carry gentleness, clarity, and truth as You continue to bind up the broken places within me.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.