How Silence Sounds in Me

Silence unsettles those who have never met themselves in it. They run from the quiet, filling their days with chatter and company so they never have to hear the echo of their own emptiness. But I do not run. I have made peace with the hush that others find unbearable. In it, I have found my voice: steady, unbending, and deeply mine. My silence is not absence; it is presence sharpened. And it scares them, because it shows how loud they are without saying anything at all.

They tell me I am not right for them; that I am indifferent, unyielding, too still for their chaos. They see me as incomplete because I will not mold myself into their version of comfort. But I know the truth of who I am. I was not created to perform wholeness for anyone’s approval. Jehovah shaped me exactly as I am .. not fragile, not flawless, but complete in His design. Those who call me too much, too different, too quiet.. they fear what they do not understand. I do not need to shout my worth for it to exist.

I have loved deeply, rawly, with a kind of honesty that could burn through the pretense most people wear. And still, I have been told I am not enough. Not the right fit. Not the right kind. As if love were a contest of likeness instead of truth. The disgust in their eyes is not for me.. it is for the reflection of their own uncertainty. They label me distant because I will not beg. They call me emotional because I refuse to numb myself to convenience. But I am not the one afraid of feeling; they are.

When I hurt, I do not collapse. I let the pain carve me open and teach me its language. I bleed, I pray, I rebuild. I do not point my finger toward heaven and curse my design. Jehovah does not make errors. My stillness, my empathy, my depth.. they are all parts of His intention. I am content in that. I have found peace where others find discomfort. My joy does not depend on acceptance, nor does my worth rise and fall by another’s interest.

So I ask: who is truly indifferent? The one who sits quietly and feels everything, or the one who speaks loudly and hears nothing? I do not hide behind arrogance or lineage or the illusion of status. I am a creation of mixed soil and rare bloom; not purity, but resilience. Not pedigree, but purpose. I do not measure my value by who finds me appealing. I am not meant for everyone’s eye; I am meant for the eyes that see beyond surface.

I am not ashamed of my complexity, nor my simplicity. I am both storm and still water, woman and witness, flesh and faith. For those who think I am not enough, I release them to their noise. I do not need to convince anyone of my worth. Jehovah and I already agreed upon it when He breathed life into me.

I will remain in my silence... not to prove anything, but to continue being who I am meant to be. Real. Feeling. Faithful. Stronger than I appear, softer than they deserve to know. My silence is not an emptiness; it is a world. And it will never again be something I apologize for.