Suffering in Silence
Many people suffer in silence. It is a usual human experience. We all suffer in varying ways, levels, and severity. Some suffering causes our nervous systems to be in survival mode even when our physical life is not threatened. This occurs when we are not emotionally safe.
As I write, I notice my nose begins to tingle, tears are close to forming in my eyes, and my heart hurts. I can't know exactly how another person's pain feels.
And yet, my body notices the pain, and it leaks out of my eyes.
The sensitivity I have to people who are suffering is palpable many times. It's a companion I have known and seen in others for most of my life. In many cases, it is hidden behind our eyes. It shows in subtle body language or facial expressions; it's an energy I am sensitive to. It is also seen in the harm inflicted on others (a hurting or suffering person wounds others). I understand it may hide because of my own experiences with suffering. It has morphed and changed over the years so I could cope.
I remember many recesses as a young elementary child when I cried because my body and mind were overstimulated by the school environment or how my classmates treated me was uncomfortable. I remember having suicidal ideations and asking my mother to take a knife and stab me in the back when I struggled to connect with my peers as an elementary-aged school kid. I would also, as a child, witness adults harming one another. This would also shape my awareness of how suffering, vulnerable and ignorant humans (they were doing the best that they knew how but lacked consciousness of a healthier response) affects more than just the person they are in conflict with.
I learned early and quickly that having an outward expression of my suffering was not acceptable.
Sharing big hard feelings with others was not 'the norm,' and it was not ok.
I learned to bookend my emotions and the energy in my body so I would be accepted because masking what was happening in my inner world would give me glimpses of what it was like to belong and be safe (even if it really wasn't). Masking meant I withheld or metered how and what I was experiencing in my body. I held my tongue, talked myself out of being angry (sad, frustrated, joyful, etc.), or stifled emotions by fulfilling a bible verse that I had memorized. I created a feeling formula to rationalize and control the outward expression of my suffering (and my joy too). It was a house of cards of sorts that kept my quirky neurodiverse self safe while appearing on the outside to be ok but suffering in silence on the inside. I would often get kudos for it. Adults would say, "you are so mature."
It was a way to not be overwhelmed by the energy within.
In some ways, I had been taught that expressing and experiencing emotions was dangerous. This message would morph several times through different bible teachings that would encourage me to be an empty vessel for Jesus, or only think on good and pure thoughts, or not trust the voice within because my heart is wicked and depraved.
All these teachings are not wrong (self-control is a good thing). They provided a structured context to help me navigate a treacherous, foreign emotional life because my neurodiverse brain was busy learning more concrete concepts. However, they became a way of suffering in silence when doing what was right (religious and socially proper behaviors for a woman) would cause me to fragment myself. This was usually motivated by a deep desire to be Christ-like (WWJD).
Sadly, you can be Christ-like on the outside while abandoning yourself; in other words, you can pretend to be Christ-like. What do I mean by abandoning yourself?
An example of abandoning yourself (suffering in silence) would be to deny yourself the time and energy needed to express emotions because of fear or shame.
In other words, you talk yourself out of a feeling. Other examples would be squashing or dampening righteous anger at social injustice or shaming yourself to change something about yourself by telling yourself, "you 'should' have known better" or "you 'should' have done it differently." I also call this violence to ourselves. It's when we oppose ourselves and justify our opposition because we don't know any different. We believe we care for ourselves, but in reality, we comply with shame, fear, and judgments to be in control. In an effort to master our own body and mind, we squelch our soul's and body's divine expression and wisdom.
Another way to say it is that we are unaware of the undeniable goodness within ourselves and accept that fragmenting our dignity is better than remaining whole. Of course, we would do this because we don't know any other way, and the pain we experience is familiar.
There are a lot of layers at play here. There are so many more directions this blog could tease out, but it feels best to return to where we started.
There are many types of suffering: physical, emotional, social, mental, etc. Suffering by ourselves can be devastating to our souls because we are relational beings. We need genuine, accepting connections with ourselves and others. My neurodiverse self quips, "Damn it, I need humans, & I need to know myself. Say it ain't so."
Our ability to endure, thrive, innovate, and progress directly correlates to the depth, openness, and quality of our connection with ourselves and others.
I'm not here to eliminate suffering. That is impossible as our humanness is finite and limited. Our bodies and souls can only withstand so much before they give up or give out.
Suffering is hard enough. Suffering in silence, in isolation, can be soul-shattering. Self-righteous affliction is harmful and soul-sucking. I know both paths, and I would not wish them on anyone. Yet, I intuitively know that my suffering story's pain is not unique. It's a human story that is still unfolding. Thankfully in the unfolding, I found a third way to walk through the pain of suffering with safe and accepting companions. Being with people who got me without fixing or judging me invited me to live more aligned with the divinity of my soul. The community I engaged with helped me to finally learn what freedom, wholeness, acceptance, compassion, grace, and Love feels like in my whole being.
This life-giving change has led me to invite you to discover your own third way.
As a trauma-informed Spiritual Director who lives with neurodiversity, I love creating safe communities (Saturated Grace Groups) where 3 to 5 people co-create a safe space to bear witness to one another's suffering without fixing, judging, shaming, or fear of abandonment. As a compassionate witness and listener, you join in with Divine Love to tangibly manifest compassion, acceptance, unconditional Love, mercy, grace, hope, generosity, freedom, kindness, and so many more. Most importantly, the act of bearing witness authenticates one another's suffering. In doing so, the group shoulders the collective burden, not to be fixed but to be always accepted, fully seen, heard, and known. The group is designed so that no one will suffer in silence again.
Email me directly at audre@saturatedgrace.com to find more information about Saturated Grace Groups. I would love to connect you with others who desire to co-create a safe community.
