Dear Therapist,
Can we talk about something as small as no response to a text? This can feel like a sucker punch to the soul, putting it mildly.
The Silence That Echoes
It’s not because I’m fragile, but because when you’ve lived through years of emotional neglect or abandonment, silence isn’t neutral. It’s loud. Deafening, even. I sent that TikTok, that “thought of you” text carrying a tiny spark of connection, and it was met with… nothing. And yeah, maybe you’re just busy. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you meant to respond and didn’t.
But that silence…It still echoes.
Logic Says “Don’t Take It Personally”
The logic brain tries to talk me down…
“She’s overwhelmed. She didn’t see it. She doesn’t hate you.”
“Maybe she’s neurodivergent too and the rhythm is just off.”
And I get it…Sometimes that’s true, but trauma doesn’t live in the logical brain.
The Body Remembers the Hurt
Because I didn’t just send a video, a text. I sent a piece of myself. A whisper of “I thought of you. I care.” A bid for connection not contained in our weekly hour.
And when that’s met with nothing, it hits like rejection, whether it’s meant that way or not. It stirs the ache of every moment I reached out as a kid and was met with indifference, silence, being discarded, or punishment. When you’ve been shaped by complex trauma, connection seems to always carry risk. I’m not just texting. I’m offering my presence. And silence, being left on read, feels like the same old abandonment in a new costume.
Patterns Speak Louder Than One Moment
Sometimes, it’s not a pattern. Sometimes, it’s just a moment, but other times, it is a pattern. When someone who used to respond slowly pulls away, you’re left unsure what has shifted. I try to not take it personally. I try to be chill. But my gut notices and it really hurts.
Naming It Without Shame
And here’s the part that’s super hard to talk about because it can exacerbate those childhood wounds. Asking for clarity can feel even worse.I’ve been made to feel “too sensitive” before. I’ve learned to swallow my needs to keep the peace. I’ve learned not to question my instincts.
And I’m learning and unlearning and growing painstakingly slowly that sometimes, it’s okay to name it…gently.
“Hey, I sent that because it reminded me of you. No pressure. I just wanted to connect. Hope you’re having a good day.”
That’s not being needy. That’s being human.
So Here’s the Question, Therapist…
Would you do that to a friend? (Professionally, therapists and clients are not friends, to discuss another day.) Curious thought though… from human to human (Of course!)…Would you ignore a friend who reached out vulnerably? Would you say nothing at all? Would you stay silent and expect the friendship to survive?
As a clinician, Maybe one would call it healthy detachment? Or maybe call it pushing or testing boundaries? Maybe even transference? And it is known that clinicians may even say…this is so “Borderline”. (“Borderline”, the societal scapegoating of female trauma survivors, is a whole other topic to discuss another day.)
When I reach out, it’s not just about the content. It’s about the gesture. The offering. The Thread of connection. When that’s met with nothing, I’m left holding the silence and wondering if I imagined the connection in the first place.
Attachment Isn’t About Pretending It Doesn’t Hurt
We’re told to manage our expectations.Don’t take things personally. Be “secure” enough not to care. But here’s the truth…secure attachment doesn’t mean pretending silence, being left on read, doesn’t hurt. It means you trust yourself enough to say, “That didn’t feel good.” Even when the world tells you not to.
With Love,
Your Client (…The one that’s still learning not to shrink from connection and have a voice.)