20/05/2025
Talking about what’s happening to us isn’t always as easy as it sounds. Sometimes what we feel is so confusing or so painful that there are no words to hold it, no mind that can fully digest it. So we stay quiet, we hold it in, we hide a little. Not because we don’t want to share, but because we simply can’t — not yet. Because touching that pain directly can leave us feeling exposed, disarmed. And in those moments, silence becomes a way of protecting ourselves.
In psychoanalysis, John Steiner —following the line of Melanie Klein— spoke about something he called the psychic retreat. It’s as if the mind looks for an internal shelter, a place to hide from feeling too much. A safe space, where intense emotions are shut down, where there is no inner conflict, where one doesn’t have to face guilt or deep pain. And sometimes, that helps. It’s like pulling the covers over your head when the world outside feels overwhelming. A pause.
But staying there too long comes at a cost. That refuge, which at first brings relief, can turn into a prison. And then silence is no longer just protection — it becomes confinement. A defense. It stops feeling like safety and starts to feel like disconnection: from oneself, from others, from desire.
That’s why it’s so important not to push someone to speak before they’re ready. It’s not always the right time. Sometimes, what’s most needed is someone who’s simply there — someone who stays without pressuring, who isn’t frightened by the silence or by how long it might take to come out of it. Someone who knows how to wait without intruding, without asking questions that still can’t be answered.
Because if that inner refuge was built to keep the self from falling apart, leaving it behind also requires care. And many times, it’s the presence of a trustworthy other —one who doesn’t judge or rush— that allows someone to slowly begin to put into words what once could only be felt as pain.
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