Declaration in the Silence

Silence is not something I am good at.

I’m supposed to be on a social media fast for my story course this week. But I had to have a good friend change all of my passwords yesterday, effectively locking me out. I was failing miserably at giving up my security blanket of distraction.

I don’t own a television and I don’t have wi-fi in my apartment. For the last year my only connection to the outside world when I’m at home has been through my smart phone data plan. This was wonderful for the first few months. I embraced the silence by reading, journaling, praying, crying, talking on the phone, listening to music. But then I got tired of those things. Loneliness crept in. And in the absence of Netflix I turned to my phone to numb myself. I browse Twitter and Instagram over every meal. I fall asleep scrolling through Facebook. Every quiet moment is filled with social media binges before the emptiness has opportunity to grasp a hold of me. Social media is my defense against feeling. It distracts me when panic closes in, gives me something else to think about when I can’t stop the tears on my own.

What I know in the brief time I’ve been disconnected: 

My silence is loud.

I’ve become hyper-aware of just how reliant I am. It’s not a pretty picture. I pick up my phone at least once an hour only to put it down with a sigh. The silence heightens my senses in a beautiful, terrifying way. I am forced to feel; it hurts. I wonder if I will ever stop crying over the same damn stuff. Will I ever know the answers to the questions I’m screaming at the night, screaming at God. When will I wake up and take more than one.deep.breath. before I remember— and my heart catches.

I’m learning that the fear of feeling is often worse than the feeling itself. When I stop fighting panic and let it come it’s terrifying for a few moments, but it’s followed by rest. When I let myself cry I always feel cleansed. Emotion is one of those distinctly human expressions. It lets me know I am alive

I am making a declaration. This is my resolve: I will put the phone down for the rest of the week. I will let myself feel — all of it. I will write my heart out. I will listen to what He is saying in the midst of it. I will not fear His voice. I will be okay.

Declaring these things fortifies me. Will you join me in the silence? Hold me to it?

What is your experience with silence? Does social media create noise for you? 


4 thoughts on “Declaration in the Silence

  1. Rebekah, I so connected with what you shared. Thank you. I didn’t do as well as you with being strong— I had moments of being quiet, and moments of giving in. When I was quiet long enough, and kept out of the media moments, my tears came….and I was able to sit with them, and hear His voice and what the tears were about. I could so relate to this “I wonder if I will ever stop crying over the same damn stuff.” My thoughts exactly. But obviously, tif i sit quiet long enough and the tears still come… i guess they still need to be cried, huh? …… & “I will let myself feel — all of it.” That is a brave sentence my friend. and I thank you for opening your heart. You helped give voice to what I have been feeling.

  2. You Are a beautiful, awsome and brave woman. I love you so very much!!! The words don’t say how deeply my love runs for you… Deeper than the swift oceanic current! So very proud of you. If you need me to stop by your place, or just meet you. Let me know. I loved just cuddling n making your arm sleepy.
    Love, 💢ie !!!!!!!!

  3. I just read this, Rebekah, and loved it. Thank you so much for sharing with us! I think you’ve described sensations and emotions we can all relate to as we engage with the often-painful silence. I’m inspired by this to keep leaning into that discomfort!

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