I like silence. My kids would tell you I prefer it. While that’s not necessarily true, I have been known to send them upstairs when my ears have reached the point of “input overload” and need a break.

Because we have two teenaged daughters, the atmosphere in our home suffocates from time to time with a silence that I detest: deafening, thick, tense, peace-disturbing silence — the silence of protest that remains long after an issue has been discussed and decided.

I still have to fight my own tendency toward this loud silence when I’m displeased.

Some would say that silence is always golden; I contend that silence can be as destructive to a relationship — to a home, even — as verbal strife. In some cases, it may be even worse.

I call this type of silence “belligerent silence.” It is strife poorly disguised as peace. It is passive-aggression. Its calm guise is betrayed by the weight of dissidence in the air.

Discord happens, but I don’t have to tolerate it ”overstaying” in my home. I figure the world has enough strife that people just have to “deal” with: dishonest bosses, aggressive drivers on a commute, injustice….some things we just have to hold our tongue about and move on.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but at home, I’d rather have drama (believe me, we have that, too) because at least that means communication is happening. And if we are determined enough to protect our relationships, we can find one another rather than be content to leave countless smoldering bridges behind us. It may take a discussion that lasts a few hours, but we’re stronger for it in the end.

I suppose this is why effective communication is called a “skill.” It is more learned and developed than it is innate.

When silence disturbs my peace, I see another opportunity for our family to grow closer, even if it means a discussion is an all-nighter.

© Alexa Lopez, 2008