Some things stay with you
because they were never questioned.
And over time, they start to feel like yours.
Silence vs Suppression
There are moments where you don’t say anything. Not because you don’t have something to say, but because you’re holding the words in place.You feel them form, almost fully. And then something in you stops them.Maybe the conversation would shift. Maybe it would become heavier than you want it to be. Maybe you’ve seen how it goes before.From the outside, it looks like control. Like you’re choosing to stay silent, like you’re keeping your composure.And sometimes you are. But not always.There’s a difference between choosing not to speak and not feeling able to.One feels like space. Choice.
The other feels like holding something in place. Avoidance.When it’s space, there’s no tension in it. Nothing follows you afterwards. The moment passes, and so does the need to say anything.But when something is being held back, it doesn’t really go anywhere. It stays. Not loudly, but enough to notice.You might replay the moment later. Not to change it, just because it’s still there.And sometimes, the words come out anyway. Just not where they belonged.In a different conversation, with someone else, or all at once after being held for too long.It asks for something from you. A kind of quiet effort to keep it contained. And even when nothing is happening, part of your attention stays there.Real silence doesn’t need that kind of effort. It doesn’t leave anything behind.And once you begin to notice the difference, it becomes easier to see which one you’re in.
From there, it tends to become clear.
A book is being written.
It looks closely
at the ways we take on
what was never ours.
It will be published here
when it is complete.
"Some forms of care are learned, not chosen."
Some things are easier to see from a slight distance.
Lara V. Lenz writes from that place
She writes what feels like yours, until you see it clearly.
Not to fix.
Not to guide.
Not to offer answers.
But to make visible what often goes unnoticed.
Patterns that feel familiar.
Ways of relating that seem natural.
Movements that are rarely questioned.
There is no promise here.
Only clarity.
And sometimes,
that is enough.
What you do with it is yours.
You can leave a message here.
It will be read.
It will be answered.
You don’t have to explain everything.
What matters will be seen.