Being quiet and shy has impacted me in more ways than I can count. It’s been a heavy silence that no one really sees, and a loneliness that stretches long and deep. I’ve always had a hard time forming new relationships. It feels awkward most of the time, stumbling over invisible words.
For most of my life, I’ve struggled with communication. I don’t always know what to say, or how to say it. Sometimes I get so nervous that I just laugh, even when nothings funny. Or I’ll say “thank you” when someone asks me a basic question. Because I panic and suddenly forget how conversations work. It makes me feel awkward, small, and like I’m always behind.
And if I’m being honest, this quietness—this deep, tender part of me—has made me feel painfully lonely at times.
The Loneliness of Being Quiet
Because I’m quiet, people often assume I’m okay. But I’ve spent a lot of time suffering in silence. I’ve held back tears in public places. I’ve smile through anxiety. I’ve kept so much inside, out of fear that if I spoke up, I’d be judged.
Even now, even knowing what I know—about my ADHD, my autism, my anxiety—it’s still hard. It explains things, yes. But it doesn’t make the loneliness disappear. It doesn’t stop the ache of wanting connection but not knowing how to reach for it. It doesn’t take away the fear that maybe I’ll always be alone.
There are days I quietly wonder if I’ll ever find someone who truly understands me. Sometimes I worry that being this quiet, this reserved, means that I’ll always feel like an outsider. That I’ll stay single, not because I want to be, but because I don’t know how to “put myself out there” in the way people expect. It’s a fear that I carry, and one that hurts more than I like to admit.
But My Voice Was Always There
But the thing is, I have a voice. Even when I thought it was buried under years of silence and self-doubt, it was there.
Lately, I’ve been trying to speak up more, and stand taller in my own skin. I’m learning to say what I need. I’m learning to set boundaries. I’m learning to share parts of myself even if my voice shakes. Even if I still laugh when I’m nervous. It’s scary, but also freeing. And quite frankly, I’m very proud of myself for trying.
Power Isn’t Always Loud
For so long, I thought I had to be louder to matter. I thought that I had to be more outgoing, more extroverted, or more…something. But I don’t believe that anymore.
I might never be the loudest person in the room, but that doesn’t mean I’m not powerful. There’s strength and courage in showing up, even when you feel invisible. And in speaking, finally, after years of holding everything in.
I’m not silencing myself anymore. I’m letting my voice rise, bravely, and on my own terms. And maybe, just maybe, the quietest voices carry the loudest truths.
“Our silence is not weakness; it is the soil from which our voices grow.”
Unknown
#MentalHealth #ADHD #Autism #BipolarDisorder #Depression #Anxiety