The Presence of Sound vs. The Gift of Silence

Anyone that knows me will tell you that I’m not frequently described as a quiet person. On the contrary, I like to talk. Silence is usually very uncomfortable for me, so I’m constantly trying to fill that silence with anything. And since I’m not very good a bird calls or singing, I talk.

I am unable to ride in an elevator with another person without commenting on something… their hair, the weather, the elevator buttons, whatever. Waiting in line is another favorite of mine. Misery loves company, and I’m sure to comment on this to those around me. It’s amazing the different reactions you get from strangers when you spark a conversation. Most people seemed genuinely pleased with the interaction, and actually talk back. A few are a little taken aback and seem to want to run from you. Weird.

My two little girls, Pumpkin and Cookie, are already showing very strong signs of trying to keep up with their mother. They talk their Daddy’s ears off. Boog, who is 18-years-old, has the perfect combination of sharing and keeping quiet. However, my son Weasel, who is now 16-years-old, is the exact opposite of his mother.

He doesn’t talk… period. His verbal vocabulary consists of “’salright” and “that’s fine” and some sort of grunt when he shrugs. He has been a quiet guy forever. It’s quite frustrating for me. I want to hear about everything in his life, and he has nothing to share. Not only does he have the affliction of being a teenage boy, he also has a natural tendency to keep quiet. It’s a lethal combination.

In an attempt to figure out if there was anything physically or psychologically wrong with him, I took him to see a doctor. He had been diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder when he was about nine, which can be quite debilitating for him. But more recently, the real revelation came in the fact that this doctor diagnosed ME with talking too much! She said that I talked for him, which led him to retreat inside himself. What? Is that really a diagnosis? Is that really a problem?

I always thought that my outgoing personality and talkative nature was a good thing. It was something that always kept me in touch with my fellow man. It was the thing helped me make new friends. It has made me a smartass in the best sense of the word. And now, it’s made my son quiet?

I suppose it makes sense on paper. I talk, therefore he doesn’t. So, what does this mean? Did I create my own sort of Frankenstein monster? How can I live with myself? I damaged my baby boy by being too talkative.

Should I start being quiet now? My husband, I’m sure, would be quick to say yes to that question. But no such luck, Darlin’.

Anyone that knows me now would also not believe that I too was once a quiet young lady long ago. Yup, it’s true. So there is hope that he will grow out of it and be as talkative as his mother one day. It’s going to be getting louder around here over the next few years. Perhaps it’s time to invest in some industrial earplugs, Darlin’.