The idea for this month’s blog post germinated when drafting the part of May’s post about self-care and being more selective about the things we waste our time on as we get older. As I elaborated on it, I started touching on silence, voice, embodiment, our relationship with it all, and decided to put these reflections in a post of their own.
I don’t know if we ever become choosier about what we spend our time on, but I think that no-one is immune to time-wasting or unproductivity and that it’s okay. I wish I had fewer slow or empty days, but I recognize their value and believe that escapism, for instance, can sometimes be as necessary as putting yourself out there and can even have life-saving power.
Day-in-the-life vlogs are a guilty pleasure for many of us. What’s interesting to me is they are a way to both escape and romanticize our lives. We’re peering into someone else’s life which seems like an enhanced version of our own: If their life is worth loving and documenting, maybe mine is, too. And yet, I can’t seem to face my own life.
Also, there’s something soothing about keeping the sound or a video on for company, about listening to a virtual friend talk to you in a casual tone. I wish I could reacquaint myself with complete silence though. If only to reduce sensory overload and better hear my own thoughts, I’d like to learn again how to have dinner without, before my eyes or in my ears, a what-I-eat-in-a-day or beauty routine video, a makeup tutorial, a new Netflix release or an old feel-good film or tv show I know by heart, or even an educational podcast episode.
Those voices don’t know our existence, after all, and feel somehow disembodied. How can I be more ‘embodied’? I’m still learning how to harmoniously cohabit with my body, with myself – well, it’s more of an interlocking, if you will: one isn’t beside their body, one is their body, a body sometimes mistreated, often by oneself. And then there’s (re)learning to let others look at you and thus taking the risk of being judged, disapproved of, to not be afraid of this gaze – a risk you don’t have to take with virtual ‘friends’.
This discomfort with silence manifests in other contexts. In a conversation, when there’s no one else to fill in the blanks, I’ll sometimes resort to my own voice to do so, barely pausing, touching on one topic after another. This flood of words* might act as self-protection against emotional closeness because, as the words are spilling out of my mouth, I’m not being present, which weakens the connection between my interlocutor and me. In a more vulnerable or intimate setting, a rambling, seemingly uncontrollable speech could also be a way of keeping at a distance what might hurt if I dared to pause and explore that thing rather than intellectualize it.
Behind it hides a fear of feeling and a fear of being seen up close: you’re talking and talking, but what’s said might not reveal your true self as much as what’s left unsaid.
At the same time, there’s a fear my interlocutor won’t hear me out. So, I’m in a hurry, because I’m trying to keep up with my racing thoughts and get a point across without taking up too much of the other person’s time, and all the while, clumsily, build an affinity.
I’m still the quiet kid I was at school but, while before silence would feel like a safe place, now it fills me with something like slight panic, and this too-muchness of speech is a desire to belong, a sorry camouflage for the painful shyness still very much present. It gives away a feeling of not-enough-ness. That’s most probably why the articles in my former blog were so long: there was so much to say and never quite the right way to say what longed to be said.
I wish I could speak with articulateness, deliberateness, and confidence, that I could slow down, master the art of body language, regain good posture, let silence fill the space, let things be awkward if they need to be. This is my intention and these are thoughts I’m taking with me at the dawn of summer.
*Part of this reflection was informed by psychopractitioner Julie Rogeon’s post on January 9, 2026 “Quand la parole déborde en séance…”
—
Over to you: how comfortable are you with silence, when alone at your place or in conversation with someone? How do you stay present? What’s been on your mind as summer is drawing near?
Imperfect Self-Expression. Drawing from Jenny Lawson’s book You Are Here, coloring and photo by me © 2026 Surya Ohara
I love the drawing and quote (and the way you colored it ☺️), and I can very much relate to what you share about using too many words (in conversations or writing) to make up for a feeling of not being enough. When I’m alone, however, I tend to fill silence with other sounds or voices in an attempt to escape the relentless thoughts inside my own mind. But lately I’ve been making an effort to become more comfortable with silence, at least sometimes. For me, it helps to stay grounded in my body, either in physical movement or hands-on activities, as a way to quiet the chatter of my hyperactive mind. Thank you for sharing some of your feelings about social anxiety; I’m comforted to know I’m not alone. Here’s hoping we can both find ways to because more comfortable with silence. 💕