It’s paradoxical, I know, to write an article on why I need to be silent. Like newsflash, Audrey, you’re using your words to write this. And okay, that’s true, but as ridiculous as it is, I’m expected to have something to say, so here it is:

I have nothing to say.

I have nothing to say, and that’s okay. I need to be alone, or I need to be alone with someone, and I need to say nothing. And if I do say something, I don’t need it to mean anything, but I may need you to listen anyway. I need hot tea at night, and hot coffee in the morning, and I need to wear nothing but gym clothes for weeks. I need to wear sandals every day, and I need to repaint my toes, but you can’t make me. The last thing I need is to think about my hair or makeup, and it might be harder than normal to think about school. I need to do my reading, and I need to fill out my worksheets, but I also need to breathe when I can’t because anxiety is choking me. I need to sit still and focus on my chest going in and out, in and out, and I need to count to ten over and over. So yes, I don’t have anything to say; I need to be silent.

I need to scream even though I can’t and shouldn’t. I want to be angry, to mask the awful discomfort of sadness, but I need to be graceful somehow. When I feel overwhelmed, I need to clean my whole room and imagine that might fix something. I have to eat, and somehow I need to sleep, but I don’t need to speak, or be significant when I do. I need to cry, loudly, and I need someone to just get that. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy or pity, but empathy never hurts. And I don’t need anyone to tell me it will be okay because I already know that, but it would be nice to hear “I love you.” I need to let my pillow dry after I’ve soaked it, and I need showers, so many showers, to wash away my feelings. I need to do nothing and feel sorry for myself, but in reality, I definitely do not need to do that.

This is grief.

It’s having the words to say everything but what I need to say, and so I need to say nothing. I need to exhaust myself in order to sleep at night, and I need to get out of bed quickly so my mind doesn’t wander. I need to lift up my anxiety and let Him deal with it because I am so undeniably unqualified. And when I’m alone, I need to get on my knees and fall on my face, and I need to let the Holy Spirit pray for me when I can’t. This is grief. I need a Holy Intercessor, so praise God that I have Him. When my words fail me, He speaks with groanings too deep for words, and somehow He knows just what I need when I can’t pin it down. And so I have to trust Him when it’s hard, because not only is this grief, this is part of His plan. And maybe this is why I need to be silent. He has made it clear that He will speak for me when I am wordless. So here I am, wordless and broken, and here He is with every answer known and unknown to me.

So please understand that sometimes I need to be silent, and please understand that I have nothing to say. And if I don’t make sense or I need attention or I just seem out of it, please get it. I’m trying so hard, but I don’t exactly know what I’m trying for because this is grief and it doesn’t make sense.

Soon I will speak again, but right now I need to be silent.