I Was Made To Be ‘The Quiet Child’ And Lost My Voice | by Words by Egypt 𓇢𓆸 | Shaped Souls

“Oh, she’s naturally quiet”.

I’d hear my mother say that often as a child.
My mother had a way of assuming what she wanted of me, was what I loved about myself.
Yet it would sting me a little when she uttered those words–she’s naturally quiet.
I felt it didn’t resonate with me.

I liked being quiet in general, but I also liked expressing myself boldly and loudly if need be.
Yet I didn’t feel encouraged to elevate my voice.
Because being quiet was romanticised by my mother.

A woman who saw people pleasing as a worthy path to virtue, and proving her goodness.

Well into my early adult years, she’d repeat that theme song.
How she loved me being–quiet.
She loved to tell this to her friends, visitors, even strangers.
Like it was a noble thing.
She–had raised a quiet child.

Like it was a virtue to hold one’s tongue.

She saw reservation, and dampening of my voice as emblems of worthiness, wisdom, or some other silly notion.

It wasn’t.

It was simply suppression, disguised as wisdom!
Being quiet made me more digestible. Ensured I wouldn’t stir any waters.

Perhaps it was notions like this that encouraged me to bite my tongue,
and keep the peace.
At least up until the point before my fire raged within.

I later became too hot with angst, to give a damn about keeping quiet.

My silence or my life?
I chose my life.
I chose my expression.

But that fire would come much later.

So I learned, growing up, that my silence was a ticket to being loved.

I didn’t see that my subservience, was so others could feel in control of their lives.

The many ways our subconscious minds are programmed.
Like training sheep to graze a new path.
Gently encouraged in our ways, we are.
Slowly moulded by the wills, and thoughts of others.
Until we find ourselves in cages, that’s hard to escape.

Insidiously manipulated into a life we grow to hate.

This is how our lives morph into a thing we feel alien from.