06/02/2026
Uh oh. They haven't texted back in two hours and your whole body is already on fire now. What the heck is going on. Your mind goes crazy thinking all kinds of things. Why aren't they responding. Are they mad? Did I do something wrong?
That's not about them. That's a memory you are relying on.
Somewhere in your past, silence meant something had to be wrong. It meant you were being punished, pulled away from, forgotten, or left. And your nervous system, which doesn't check calendars or ages, filed that away as: If someone goes silet, that means danger is coming.
So now, every time someone goes quiet or doesn't respond, a partner, a friend, a parent, your body reacts like it's happening again. Because you were taught, at a body level, that silence was never safe.
When your nervous system is dysregulated, flooded, frozen, or constantly on guard, you don't have access to your rational mind. You're running on survival. Everything becomes a threat. Small things feel enormous. You say things you don't mean.
The reaction isn't the problem. The unhealed wound underneath it is.
The work isn't to stop feeling it. It is learning how to build enough safety inside yourself so that when the silence comes, you are able to pause your mind and ask: Is this happening now, or is this a memory?
That pause is everything. That pause is the difference between texting three times in a panic and taking a walk instead. Between picking a fight to break the tension and trusting that some quiet is just quiet.
You deserve to stop bracing every time someone needs space. You deserve to be okay, even in the in-between.