I grew up with silent treatment being the ultimate punishment.
You walk on eggshells because you don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t know if today is the day for freedom or something worse.
Internally you beg for communication; you pray for the attention you can’t stand to be alone.
Until one day, that part of you that longs for attention die.
You realize silence is better because at least nothing could be taken away from you. The little bit of love you feel when there is communication can’t be ripped from you in a blink of an eye.
When you’re used to the silent treatment, you start attracting emotionally unavailable people—the ones who don’t know how to communicate how they feel.
You thought that piece of you was dead, the part that could deal with silence.
Instead, it teaches you anger, and yelling is better than silence.
You would rather hear someone’s words than try to fill in the blanks through silence.
I have been in more than one verbally abusive relationship because hell, at least you’re speaking to me.
At least I know there is something wrong. Do you want to blame it on me? That’s fine. I could handle it; I could take it better than silence.
Do you want to hit me? That’s okay. I deserved it because I did something wrong as long as I am told what I did wrong; this punishment is acceptable, but please don’t leave me in silence.
I will bow down to your every need as long as you don’t leave me in silence.
I will allow the abuse as long as you don’t leave me in silence. Please don’t leave me in silence.
That is what I used to say.
Today, I say, please leave me in silence if you have come to destroy my peace.