The Language of Silence

Oddly enough, communication sometimes seems to include long periods of silence. It often speaks volumes. The unsaid is something I grew up with in my family. As a result, it is hard for me to initiate difficult conversations. The most recent event has been with D about Christmas dinner. I walk around with my own view of our family traditions that I assume everyone else holds but then learn that is not true. So when asked about scheduling Christmas dinner, it automatically becomes an emotional charged conversation. Suggestions are made and they are followed by days of silence. The silence is deafening. During that time my imagination runs away with itself. I convince myself that I have alienated him and that he has walked out of my life. I become obsessed with what he is thinking, doing or feeling every spare minute of my day. I am certain that he hates me. The silence eats away at me day after day until I can eventually find a way to let it go. So I put pen to paper and try to say everything in my heart. And then, out of the blue, a message comes from him saying that it's no big deal, he'll find a way to be there. I am left exhausted by everything that wasn't said. I am certain that the silence and my overactive imagination is so much worse than anything he could possibly be thinking or feeling but I have no idea of how to stop it. I am hopeful that because I have shared my feelings, he will begin to understand who we can be as a family. And more than that, he will begin to know who I am both as a person and his mother.