The Silence Beneath the Surface

There was a season in my life when my words felt too heavy to speak aloud. I smiled when I wanted to scream. I said, "I'm fine" when my soul was aching.

This was before I made the decision to take a sabbatical and leave the job I had loved for 17 years. I had been assaulted on a business trip, and only my closest friends knew of this truth. At work, I put on a mask daily and tried to pretend everything was okay. But beneath the fake outer shell, I was unraveling. I was suffering from a pretty severe case of PTSD—causing three to ten panic attacks per day. I couldn’t focus or remember basic things. My nervous system was in a constant state of distress, and I often questioned if I was losing my mind.

At home, my marriage had turned toxic. When people would ask how I was, I’d reflexively say, "fine," disconnected from truth or self-awareness. One time, my fitness coach ran into me at a health food store and complimented my ability to smile no matter how painful life had become. That smile dissolved into tears, and I broke down sobbing in the aisle. I suspect he regretted the comment after the uncomfortable moment that followed.

Nothing felt real. I was going through the motions, numb to it all. But in hindsight, I see now: this was an invitation. An invitation to turn toward the pain instead of away. To stop silencing myself, and begin the slow, sacred process of speaking again.

Have you ever swallowed your truth so many times that your throat forgot how to open?

Have you ever silenced yourself to be accepted, only to feel further away from your own heart?

The Cost of Silence

When we push emotions away, they don’t disappear. They migrate.

They settle into our bodies like sediment in a riverbed—weighing down the breath, the muscles, the nervous system. As Bessel van der Kolk reminds us in The Body Keeps the Score, what the mind avoids, the body remembers.

Unspoken pain often reveals itself as chronic tension: tight jaws, sore throats, shallow breathing. We see it in posture too—the slumped shoulders of those who carry too much, the chest that no longer opens to receive breath fully. When we lose connection to the heart and throat, it becomes nearly impossible to connect with or speak our truth.

There is a cultural myth many of us inherit: that we are "too much."

Some of us were taught that our anger was dangerous, our sadness was inconvenient, our needs were excessive. We were conditioned—sometimes gently, sometimes not—to tuck away our feelings, to be easy, agreeable, pleasant. So we zipped ourselves up.

We live in a society that wants people to "look okay." When someone is visibly in pain, it stirs something uncomfortable in us. So we pressure one another to bounce back, to smile through it, to get over it.

And we learn to mistrust our own inner experience.

Many of us had caregivers who only welcomed emotional regulation. Big emotions weren't safe in our childhood homes, so we buried them. We learn early that it’s safer to stay silent than risk being "too much."

The Throat Chakra: Energy Center of Truth

In yogic philosophy, the throat chakra—Vishuddha, meaning "purification"—is the fifth energy center. It governs communication, truth-telling, authentic self-expression, and alignment between the voice and the heart.

Element: Ether (Space)

Color: Blue

Sound: HAM

Location: Throat, mouth, jaw, ears

When this chakra is in balance, we speak with clarity, courage, and compassion. We express ourselves authentically. We trust our inner voice.

But when it’s out of balance, we might:

• Feel afraid to speak or share opinions
• Struggle with sore throats, thyroid issues, jaw clenching
• Speak excessively, interrupt others, or use sharp language
• Feel like our voice gets "caught" when we try to speak up

Bringing Vishuddha into balance requires gentle, consistent care:

• Sound healing: Toning, humming, singing can open the voice without pressure.
• Neck and jaw release: Gentle yoga, massage, and somatic practices soften stored tension.
• Writing letters never sent: A safe way to give voice to the unspeakable.
• Speaking aloud to oneself: Practicing vocalization in private builds safety and trust.
• Mantra: “I speak my truth with clarity, love, and courage.”
• Journaling Prompt: What truths live inside me that are longing to be spoken?

The Sacred Weight of Untold Stories

Silence is not failure. It is often protection.

Sometimes, we go quiet not because we’ve given up, but because the world hasn’t felt safe enough to hear us. Our nervous systems do what they must to survive. And yet, there comes a moment when the voice begins to stir again.

That moment is holy.

It is sacred work to give voice to what has long remained unspoken. Even in whispers. Even in fragments.

Let’s take a moment together:

Place your hand on your throat. Breathe gently.

Ask yourself:

• What story am I still holding inside?
• What might shift if I released it, even just a little?

Pathways Back to Voice

Voice healing rarely begins with speaking. It begins with presence.

The body is the gateway. The body is where the voice lives.

Somatic tools to awaken the throat gently:

• Humming while rocking side to side
• Lion’s breath or Bumblebee breath
• Cat/cow paired with vocalized breath (like a sigh or hum)
• Speaking affirmations in a mirror: “You matter. You are safe. I hear you.”

And most of all:

Safety. The voice doesn’t respond to force; it responds to invitation. This is the essence of trauma-informed voice work. We don’t pry ourselves open. We create a safe enough inner space, and the voice returns on its own time.

Closing Reflections: Your Voice is Sacred Medicine

Dear one, your truth matters.

Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s unsure. Even if it trembles.

You deserve to be heard—even by yourself. And it’s never too late to find your way back to your voice.

A simple practice for the week:

• Each morning, speak one loving truth aloud.

Even if it’s just: “I am here. I matter.”

Let your voice ripple outward from there.

“There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.”

— Maya Angelou

Photo Credit: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay