The Power of Silence: When You Can’t Find the Words and Still Have Something to Say

You ever have one of those moments where you just... don’t have the words? Not because you don’t care, not because you’re trying to be difficult, but because speaking feels heavier than staying quiet? Yeah, that’s been me lately. Silence has been my default setting — not because I chose it, but because I didn’t have the energy to argue with what couldn’t be understood in the first place. That, right there, is the power of silence.

Recently, my fiancée and I got into a back-and-forth. I thought it was an argument; she might say it was just a “discussion.” Either way, it got heated. It started over something so small — food from White Castle, of all things — but ended up feeling way bigger than that. Our oldest, Jeremiah, got upset because I brought his mom some food and not him. I could see the tears building in his little eyes.

Now, before you judge, let me explain. I stopped that crying quick because I believe in teaching lessons early. Not every situation in life is fair, and that’s okay. You don’t always get something just because someone else did. That’s life. You can call it tough love, but I call it preparation. Because one day, the world’s gonna serve him a moment like that, and I’d rather he already know how to digest it.

But somewhere in the middle of that teaching moment, things went sideways. Voices were raised — mine especially. The whole tone of the house shifted. She saw her side; I saw mine. But now, we’re stuck in this thick fog of silence. You know, that kind where words could fix it but pride, exhaustion, and confusion all tag-team you into keeping your mouth shut.

It’s been over 24 hours since then, and to be honest, I feel... numb. Not mad. Not sad. Just emotionally flat. We’ve had a few phone calls, exchanged a few words, but in person, I don’t want to talk. I love her, and I love Jeremiah — even if he isn’t my son by blood. I met him when he was eight, and he’ll be eleven soon. I’ve been there for every growing pain, every laugh, every “Dad” moment that life gave us. But sometimes it feels like we’re unintentionally competing over who gets to teach him what’s right. And that’s a game nobody wins.

Here’s my truth: a woman can raise a boy, but only a man can teach him how to be one. That’s not disrespect — that’s reality. And when that reality gets challenged or shut down in the name of “protection,” it feels like I’m being silenced as a father figure before I even get the chance to lead.

So I stay quiet.

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When Silence Affects the Mind

But silence doesn’t come without a cost. Mentally, this argument did more to me than I like to admit. I’m honestly more upset with myself than I am with my fiancée or Jeremiah combined. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me. Maybe I should’ve just agreed with what she said — not in a dismissive way, but in a reassuring way that shows I hear her and take her seriously. And the truth is, I still do.

I’m not saying I shouldn’t have gotten upset with Jeremiah for crying, because kids should absolutely be allowed to feel what they feel. But at the same time, I’m not raising any marshmallows in my house. And if I am, they’ll be burnt marshmallows — tough on the outside, soft on the inside. That’s how I was raised. Maybe I should’ve just chosen my words differently, or maybe I should’ve waited to cool off before saying anything at all.

Right now, I honestly don’t know. Because there are moments where it feels like a lose-lose situation. Either I’m too hard, or I’m too soft. Either I’m teaching, or I’m attacking. It’s exhausting. So dads — any suggestions? Because this fatherhood thing doesn’t come with a manual, and sometimes silence feels like the only thing I can trust not to make things worse.

The Power of Silence in Healing

Here’s where the lesson kicks in — because being silent isn’t always a bad thing. Silence gives you space to cool off, to observe, to think. It lets you replay the situation without the noise of emotion clouding the picture. You start realizing what matters, what doesn’t, and how much energy certain battles deserve. Sometimes silence is your way of protecting your peace when words would only turn gasoline into fire. That’s the true power of silence — it lets peace speak when anger wants to scream.

When Quiet Turns Cold

But let’s not pretend silence doesn’t have its downsides too. Staying quiet too long can feel like you’re slowly fading in your own relationship. Like you’re disappearing under your own thoughts while the world keeps spinning. You start convincing yourself it’s better not to speak at all — and that’s when silence starts winning the war. It becomes less about peace and more about distance.

I’m not proud of how loud I got that night. I’m also not proud of how quiet I’ve been since. But that’s the duality of being human — knowing when to shut up and when to speak up, and realizing sometimes you mess up both.

So yeah, maybe I’m still mad. Maybe I’m still hurt. Maybe I just don’t have the words yet. But silence doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It just means I’m still figuring out how to say what I really feel... without making more noise than progress.

Until then, I’ll let the quiet do the talking.

Talk soon,– Kidd