If someone has gone quiet on you.
And you don't know why.
This is a place to rest.
Exactly as you are.
You don't need an explanation to be here.
You don't need to have made sense of it yet.
Simply arrive.
Find a comfortable position.
Sitting or lying down.
Whatever feels right for your body.
Let your eyes close gently.
Take a slow breath in through the nose.
And a long breath out through the mouth.
Again in.
.
.
And out slowly.
Nothing to figure out right now.
Simply breathing.
Notice the surface beneath you,
Its support.
You are held here,
Even in the middle of not knowing.
There is a particular kind of difficulty in this experience that is worth naming honestly.
It isn't only the loss of a connection.
It's the absence of an ending.
No conversation.
No explanation.
Simply silence where something used to be.
And in the mind,
Faced with that silence,
Often does something very human.
It tries to fill it.
It searches for reasons.
It replays messages.
Looking for a clue.
It can turn the silence inward,
Asking what is wrong with me?
What did I do?
What does this say about my worth?
I want to offer you something important here.
Someone else's choice to withdraw.
Without explanation is information about them.
About their capacity in that moment.
To communicate something difficult.
It is not a verdict on you.
That not knowing is genuinely hard.
But it is not evidence of anything about your worth.
You don't need to believe that fully right now.
Simply let it sit alongside whatever you're feeling.
Now let's move to a body scan.
Where has the silence landed?
Let's move through the body together.
Simply noticing.
With curiosity and care.
Where this experience has settled.
The jaw and the throat.
Often where the unanswered words live.
The things you might have wanted to say or ask.
And haven't had the chance to.
Breathe here gently.
The chest,
The heart area.
If there's a hollow feeling here or a heaviness.
Simply acknowledge it.
Place a hand there if it feels right.
I see you.
This is real.
Stomach.
Notice if there's any churning.
Any low,
Unsettled feeling.
The mind searching for answers it doesn't have.
Breathe with it.
You don't need to solve it right now.
The shoulders.
Notice if there.
Holding a kind of bracing.
Waiting perhaps for a message that hasn't come.
On the next out breath,
See if they can drop just slightly.
The hands.
These hands that may have checked a phone more times than you'd like to admit.
Let them rest open now.
Still.
And the feet.
Grounded.
Present.
Here regardless of what is or isn't happening anywhere else.
Take a moment to sense the whole body.
Breathing.
Held.
Aw.
Even in this uncertainty.
One of the hardest parts of this experience is the not knowing itself.
So let's use this breath to practice being with that.
Rather than rushing to resolve it.
Breathing slowly through the nose.
And as you breathe in.
Simply allow the not knowing to be present.
Not comfortable.
Simply present.
And breathe out long and easy.
Releasing the urge to chase an answer that may not come.
In allowing uncertainty to exist.
And out,
Releasing the need to resolve it immediately.
Let's do that again.
In.
And out all the way.
Continue in your own rhythm.
You are practicing something genuinely difficult.
Tolerating uncertainty.
Without it defining you.
That is a real strength.
Even though it may not feel like it right now.
I'd like to offer you an image that can help in exactly this kind of uncertainty.
Imagine yourself as a rock in the ocean.
Established.
Grounded in the depths.
The waves come.
The wave of confusion.
The wave of self-doubt.
The wave of wanting an answer that hasn't arrived.
They crush against you and you feel their full impact.
But you do not move.
You remain.
Steady.
Present.
Yours.
Being your own anchor doesn't mean the silence stops hurting.
It means having somewhere solid to return to,
Your own breath,
Your own values,
Your own sense of who you are.
When someone else's choices feel completely outside of your control.
Because that's the truth of it.
Their silence was never within your control.
What is within your control is how you meet yourself in the middle of it.
Feel that groundedness now.
The solidity beneath you.
The steadiness of your own breath.
The simple fact of you,
Still here,
Still whole.
I'd like to offer you some phrases now.
Take each one slowly,
Let it land or not.
In its own time.
I do not need an explanation to know that I'm okay.
Someone else's silence is not a measure of my worth.
I'm allowed to grieve a connection,
Even one that wasn't given a proper ending.
I can hold uncertainty.
Without needing to resolve it today.
I deserve people in my life who communicate with care,
And I'm allowed to keep hoping for that even now.
If one of these sentences was difficult to receive.
Stay with it a moment longer.
The hardest ones to take in are often the ones that matter the most.
Take one final slow breath in.
And release it all the way.
As you come back into the room.
You don't need to have this figured out.
You simply need to take care of yourself one moment at a time.
The not knowing may stay a while longer.
You can hold it gently.
Without it being the whole of you.
Thank you for being here with me today.
Take good care of yourself and I'll see you next time.
