By Trish Briggs
My husband and I both came from alcoholic families. Both our fathers were loud
functioning alcoholics, but their functioning did not mean there wasn’t dysfunctionality in
the family unit. There was. We both learned very early on that silence is golden in this
type of family.
However, our personalities were different. My husband chose his moments: when to be
silent and when to rile people up. My brother was very similar. He liked to ‘poke the bear’.
Being more timid (the younger me), I never understood why anyone would do this. I
chose the silent route. I didn’t want to be seen and I wasn’t.
I took my silence to the extreme. One time when I was in grammar school, I felt
that nothing being said around me or by me, was worthwhile, so I chose not to
say anything more. I didn’t say anything for a week and easily got across what I needed
without words. I would just nod if a response was required of me. Sadly, no one noticed
I hadn’t spoken for a week, not even my mother. At the end of the week, I
got this internal message that I needed to talk or else I would never talk again. It was
becoming too easy not to talk. I started talking.
As a result of childhood dynamics, I grew up knowing that safer road was
silence. For the most part I kept things brewing inside, silent, and avoided
confrontation. I didn’t understand that the silent approach was not
serving me as an adult. By keeping things to myself, it never allowed others to know the real me and what I was thinking.
In silence, I thought that I was being nonconfrontational, noncommittal, and giving
others expression. If I disagreed with what they were saying, I usually let them speak
but never said anything. I never understood at the time, that some were taking my silence as
agreement.
I was totally surprised and taken aback when a couple people (over a couple years) got
very angry with me over plans they had made for independent ventures. I had listened
to them planning. I had never voiced my intention to be part of it, nor had they outright
asked me to be part of it. However, they took my silence to mean that I was on board
with the plans and willing to take part.
When this happened, each time I felt like I was hit broadside and knocked sideways. I
felt like it came from nowhere and didn’t understand. From my perspective, I had supported them as a friend and listened to their dreams and plans.
I wasn't seeing something. It became clear through my healing, my silence was the problem. I needed to start asking questions to clarify the other person’s intent. If the person is verbalizing something I don’t agree with, I have to say at a minimum, “I never thought about it like that. I’m not sure I agree. Let me think about it.”
There is a time and place for silence!
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