I spent a lot of years staying silent: swallowing my feelings, keeping the peace, trying like hell not to make waves. God forbid I’d say or do anything that might make life harder for the people I cared about or, worse, make them feel anything less than proud of me.
There was a stretch during my teen years when that silence became survival.
My mom, my brother, and I were tangled in layered, complicated situations. By then, my parents were long divorced, and my brother and I had our occasional visits. One weekend, we went to see some extended family and friends alongside my dad. At one point, our plans shifted suddenly. Instead of staying where we expected, we were leaving town. I don’t remember the reason… just that, looking back, it felt less about logistics and more about how much was already weighing on him.
I remember standing in a room when the change was announced. Everyone was quiet, then I was asked, almost reflexively, “What did you do this time?”
Like it was mine to carry.
It wasn’t the first time I absorbed blame for things far outside my control.
I was in elementary school when I got really sick… fever, stomach issues, down for weeks. And even then, the message (spoken or not) was that it was causing disruption. Making things harder.
In those moments, nothing ever really blew up. It just… settled. And over time, I got used to picking things up instead of pushing back.
That pattern followed me everywhere. Work. Home. Marriage.
I didn’t make a big decision about it. I just kept choosing the path that kept things moving, kept things smooth, kept everyone else comfortable. “Suck it up, buttercup” wasn’t something I said out loud… it was just how I operated.
And after a while, that meant I was the one carrying it all.
I second-guessed every feeling. I sat with them like they were unwelcome houseguests. I ran them through a mental checklist:
Are these feelings real?
Am I allowed to feel them?
What’s the fallout going to be if I dare speak them aloud?
Staying silent felt easier. It kept things steady. Predictable. Like I had a handle on it.
But over time, it came at a cost. Every time I let something slide, I gave up a little ground. I told myself it was the right move… that people would pick up on what I wasn’t saying, that I didn’t need to spell it out.
That didn’t really happen.
And somewhere in that, I got used to not saying what I needed.
Figuring Out My Own Voice
What’s deeply ironic about all this is I’m one of those people who has always hated the sound of her own voice. It’s a little high-pitched. It can get preachy. It loves the rich details of a story, gets too passionate, too loud.
Then, when it’s scared, it goes very, very quiet. Like it’s trying to protect me.
There were times my voice sounded so unsure, so unsteady. Weak. That’s hard to admit because I don’t see myself as a weak woman.
My voice was there the whole time… it just didn’t always come out clean. It wobbled. It cracked. Sometimes it got loud enough to be impossible to ignore, and I’d shut it down anyway. I would tell myself I was overreacting. That I didn’t need to go there. That everything was fine.
But somewhere in my mid-40s, I started hearing it differently. When I finally looked at my marriage and admitted it wasn’t working, I let it say what it had been trying to say for a long time.
And then I did something I normally never would’ve done. I stopped running every possible worst-case scenario and just said the thing. I told my now-partner we didn’t need all the answers figured out to try a relationship from 8,000 miles away.
I let that version of me take the mic.
I heard her again when I said yes to an unexpected post-retirement advisory role. And now and since? I hear her all the time.
She speaks up now. In consulting conversations, in rooms where I used to hang back and play it safe, I say what I actually think and recommend what I know will work.
She’s more direct than I used to be. Calls things out. Sets boundaries. Also catches her own nonsense when it shows up. She tells people she loves them. She’s proud of what she’s built and doesn’t feel the need to downplay it.
She doesn’t sit around waiting to be noticed anymore. If something matters, she says it. Then she acts on it.
Mid-50s will do that. Time starts to feel a little less theoretical. There are things I want to write (yep, that 2nd book for example!!), say, try, learn (aka the drums), and I’m not as interested in holding back anymore.
Things I Wish I’d Said (And Things I’d Rather Not Have)
I was recently asked to make a list of 10 things I wish I’d said over the past decade. It took me a minute. Should I focus on the hard things people just don’t say or things I should have said less of? That last category of things came to me much faster, btw!
Things I wish I’d said sooner:
Yes. To the job offers that scared me because I didn’t think I was “ready.” Turns out, I was more than ready. I was built for them.
Enough. In my relationships. Of the shit I swallowed at work and being told I was too much, was too curious, was too loud. And truth be told, maybe way sooner.
I forgive you and I would not be the woman I am without you. To my stepmom before she passed. I missed that window, and I still carry it.
You were amazing. To my grandma, out loud and more often. She deserved to hear it.
Yes, let’s go. To a move with my boys to Australia. I said no back then for a lot of really important reasons. But I still think about how differently our lives would have been had we gone.
And then there’s the list of things I wish I hadn’t said or swallowed:
“It’s fine.” I said that a lot when it wasn’t. Now I say what’s actually going on, even if it’s a little uncomfortable to hear.
“I shouldn’t say anything.” Comical in a way, given this exercise! I used to stay quiet to keep things smooth. Avoid conflict. Spare people from feelings they probably needed to deal with anyway. Now I say what needs to be said, because staying quiet wasn’t helping anyone.
“I’m sorry for feeling this way.” I used to say that like my emotions needed approval. Like I had to smooth them out before anyone else could deal with them. I don’t do that anymore. I feel what I feel and say it, without apologizing for it.
“Let’s wait until the timing is better.” I said that while I stalled and overthought everything. At some point I realized I was just buying time and calling it strategy. Now I move when something matters, even if the timing isn’t perfect.
“I’ll handle it.” That was my default. I picked things up before anyone else even had a chance to step in. It felt easier than asking, and way easier than explaining. Now I don’t automatically grab everything. I ask for help. I leave some things where they are and let other people meet me there.
If you’ve been calling your silence “grace,” I get why. It works… until it doesn’t. Drop a comment or send me a note… I’m here to learn new stuff myself and to listen.
#RealGirlsGuidetoMidlife, #RealGirlsRegrets, #MidlifeForgiveness #RGG
We’ve earned every wrinkle. Might as well make more laugh lines together.
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