Journal Entry: The Weight of Silence

Today I sat with the heavy truth that my family’s silence has always spoken louder than their words. I realize now that the toxicity doesn’t just come from harsh arguments, but from the cold absence of acknowledgment, the refusal to see me as I am. It’s like living in a house where the walls echo back your existence, but no one inside really looks at you.

I felt myself shrinking in those moments. A little girl who tried to earn love by softening her voice, making herself less visible, less of a burden. The silence shaped me — not into peace, but into someone always questioning if she was too much or not enough.

Now, as a woman, I feel the residue of that silence in my chest. It presses down whenever I’m back in those family spaces, making it hard to breathe. And yet, I see the truth: silence was never love. It was control. It was avoidance.

Spirit whispers to me: You are not invisible. Your voice is sacred breath. Each time you choose to speak truth, you dissolve the illusion of their power.

So today, I write. Today, I breathe myself back into fullness. Today, I break the silence by refusing to carry its weight any longer.