When Silence feels Loud

Some mornings arrive with a stillness that isn’t quiet at all.

It hums beneath the skin. It shakes in the bones. It brings a certain kind of ache — the kind that doesn’t have a name, only a presence.

I used to wonder if I was just too much — too sensitive, too expressive, too deep. I tried to soften my voice, hide my longing, speak only when I was sure it would be heard. I’ve since learned that none of that guarantees connection.

It turns out love isn’t measured by how quietly you wait.

Or how perfectly you express your need.

Or how beautifully you craft a message.

Sometimes it’s not about being clearer — it’s about realizing that clarity can still go unseen. And in those moments, what matters most is this:

Do I choose to stay soft inside my truth, even when it isn’t met?

Lately, I’ve stopped sending things just to feel closeness.

Not because I don’t want to connect,

but because I want to connect honestly.

I want it to feel safe. Reciprocal. Rooted in something deeper than habit or expectation.

So if you’re waking into a quiet that feels louder than usual, I’m with you.

And maybe — just maybe — that silence is where a new kind of voice begins to rise.

One that belongs to you.

One that doesn’t need to be answered to feel real.

Today’s Practice:

Place one hand on your heart chakra (middle of your chest), and one on your belly

Say softly: “Even in silence, I still hear myself.”

Affirmation: I trust the sound of my own truth.

Stillness allows for true creation.