We fought again. There was a screaming match, a whole lot of name calling, and crying. During that fight, I realized that I’m no good with words, especially when I’m in turmoil. I often say the wrong thing. Or the right thing the wrong way. I’m running in circles around what I want to say, and the harder I try the worse and more tangled my life becomes.
Then I resort to silence. That is my hiding place, my favorite medium of expression. He always understands that. Because I’m talking to him with my whole body. And then, he stops fighting. Instead, he untangles my life thread by thread and hands it back to me.
Silence works for me in a way that a thousand words can’t.