IS COMMUNICATION OVERRATED? NAVIGATING SILENCE, REGRET, AND VULNERABILITY

Finding Balance in Communication - 
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People often say that communication is the foundation of any relationship. A strong, lasting bond can be built on the practice of good communication skills. And yes, this theory sounds logical. It’s easy to nod along and agree: open communication should lead to better understanding, fewer conflicts, and stronger connections. But the reality? It’s not always that straightforward.

My Point of View about Communication Changed

I used to believe in this theory wholeheartedly. Not just believe in it, but practice it diligently. I thought that as long as I communicated openly: shared my thoughts, feelings, and concerns, everything would work out for the better. Well, it worked for a while, until it didn’t. I got stuck, tangled in a web of words and emotions that didn’t seem to bring the clarity or resolution I’d been promised.

Soon, I reached a point where I didn’t know how to bridge the gap between communication and true understanding. Despite trying to express myself, my words sometimes felt like they were falling into a void, or worse, causing friction (which I hate the most). Eventually, I made a decision—a counterintuitive one. I chose not to communicate. Instead, I avoided it. I let the conversations remain unspoken and the feelings unsaid. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be understood. It was because I felt exhausted and unfulfilled by attempts that seemed to lead nowhere but a conflict.

Some might call it unwise. And, truth be told, I often think the same. But it felt necessary. For my own good and mental wellness, I had to take that step back. I started to silence my voice in the name of peace—not just externally, but internally, too. When things happened that upset me, I turned a blind eye. When lies came my way, I played along, pretending not to notice. It was easier than confronting the emotional fallout.

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When Things Get Messy

But then came the moments when silence could no longer hold. Sometimes, something would spark—an unexpected situation, an accumulation of hidden frustrations—and I would speak. In those moments, the bottled-up feelings and unsaid truths spilled out. I’d say the things I had tried to avoid saying, sharing the events that hurt me and the feelings I had tried to suppress.

And every time I did, regret quickly followed. It wasn’t the kind of regret that stemmed from voicing my truth, but rather, from the aftermath. The guilt of disrupting the false peace I had worked so hard to maintain. The fear that my words may have hurt someone else or revealed more vulnerability than I intended. And when it happened, I would sit there, thinking to myself: “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have let those feelings out.”

The Bitter Truth

This cycle of silence and regret taught me a complicated lesson: communication, while essential, isn’t always a neat solution. It’s messy. It’s vulnerable. It demands not just honesty, but timing, intention, and often, a counterpart who’s equally willing to meet you in that space of understanding.

So, where does this leave me? Somewhere in between. Learning that neither complete silence nor endless expression is the perfect answer. Trying to find a balance, a way to communicate that feels true to me without losing myself in the process. It’s a journey, and I’m still walking it.

Maybe that’s the truth about communication. It’s not a static skill or a one-size-fits-all solution. It’s a dynamic process, one that’s shaped by our emotions, our experiences, and, most importantly, our humanity. And perhaps the first step to truly mastering it is to accept its imperfections.

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A New Perspective on Communication

As bitter as it might be, I know that God is actually teaching me something. Avoiding and pretending can only take me that far, and will only hurt me even more. I’m afraid that I might even fool myself and not know what is real. So, I took a detour and chose to see it from another angle. 

When feelings finally surface—when the words I’ve held back find their way out—I learn and remind myself not to regret it. I can’t rewind time or undo what’s been said, and perhaps I’m not meant to. There’s a reason those emotions came forward, a lesson woven into the moment, something greater than us—perhaps even a message from God guiding us to grow or see things differently.

The truth is, we can’t always control the “when” or the “how.” Sometimes, things spill over at inconvenient times, or in ways we wish we’d done differently. That’s okay. Instead of punishing myself with regret, I trust that it happened for a reason. It’s part of my journey—an opportunity to learn about myself, my needs, and how to navigate those messy spaces.

At times, when I know that I’m not ready to talk, or if words still feel heavy, I will allow myself the grace of time. I’ll let myself take as long as I need, understanding that real communication shouldn’t feel forced or rushed. It doesn’t come with a deadline, and waiting in silence can sometimes give me the clarity I need to speak with intention. After all, what truly matters is not just what we say, but when and why we say it.

In the end, learning to communicate isn’t about perfection. It’s about trusting ourselves—trusting that the moments we speak and the moments we remain silent are both part of a larger process. They’re stepping stones toward understanding—not just of others, but of ourselves.

So let it happen. Speak when it feels right, and forgive yourself for the times when it feels messy. Because maybe communication, like life, is not about finding the perfect words—it’s about learning from the moments they finally arrive.