Quiet

Our house was quiet, as a child. There was very little shouting, yelling or crying. There was very little unrestrained laughter or chatting or giggling. It was a tomb for emotions. You could walk in and think no one else was home until they appeared around a corner. It was quiet in the way soldiers are before battle. It wasn’t a peaceful place. It was tension and anxiety and fear. It was walking on eggshells. It was delicate. It was volatile. It was stifling. 

There are different kinds of quiet. They have different textures. There’s the peaceful sounds of a house asleep or the repressed noises of a recurring nightmare. There’s the crackling energy of barely contained rage. There’s the heavy ominous weight of shame. There’s the sharp slicing of the air when you’re given The Look. There’s the desperate muffling of sobs. The panicked shaky attempts at hiding. The embedded glass of secrets. Silence doesn’t mean safe. It can cut like a knife. 

We weren’t beaten or yelled at. There was barely a raised voice, when we were children. This is the secret they don’t want you to know, to control a child, to really control them, it’s not about what you give, a slap or a swear. It’s about what you take away. Withholding affection, attention, acknowledgment, validation, communication, love. That’s how you control a child. Make those things transactional, so that if they don’t do what you want, you’re not angry, you’re disappointed. Tell them they should know better. Tell them they are being unreasonable. Better yet don’t tell them anything at all. Just leave them with silence and soon it will fill up with shame. And there’s no weapon more powerful than shame. It’s the one we turn against ourselves. 

And when they do what you want, give them praise, but not too much. And always remind them of the times they were bad. Don’t say ‘Well done, that’s great!’. Say ‘Good, much better than last time.’ Make sure they are always aware of the consequences of Last Time. Make sure they never forget that it was their fault Last Time. That they needed to be taught how to be better. That you are doing this for their own good. That if they weren’t so inherently incapable of making good decisions then they wouldn’t need your help. That they are always at risk of failing. Make sure they know that it doesn’t matter how many times they did the right thing, that is to be expected. It only matters when they do the wrong thing. Make them grateful for your intervention, so that the Bad Parts of them don’t take over. Always keep them second guessing their own thoughts, feelings and decisions. Make them distrust their own mind, and their own heart. 

Do all this, and you won’t have to control them. They will control themselves.