The chatterbox goes quiet
Alright, let me set the scene.
If you don’t know me… hi, I’m Amber… I almost always have something to say. Whether it’s charming, awkward, deeply insightful, or wildly unnecessary… I say it anyway.
If you do know me, I imagine you’re already cackling at the idea of me voluntarily doing a ‘20 hours of silence’ challenge. Because let’s be real… this is borderline masochism for someone like me.
I’ve been intellectualising my emotions like it’s an Olympic sport, but lately, I’ve been dipping my toes into actually feeling them. Revolutionary, I know.
Thing is… I’m deeply conditioned to connect. I connect by talking. I talk to my dog, River. I talk to inanimate objects when they betray me. I once apologised to a chair I bumped into. So yes, silence and I… we’re not close.
But that’s exactly why I’m doing this. I’ve done a lot of inner work, but I still tap out when things get too overwhelming. And silence? It doesn’t let you tap out. No doom scrolling. No voice notes. Just me, the void, and maybe the occasional internal scream.
