Silence in the Therapy Room

Can you be silent during therapy? What does the silence mean to the client? How different therapists deal with, experience and use silence?

My Experiences of Silence as a Client

My experience and need for silence as a client fluctuated with each therapist I’ve had. Reflecting back I can see how each experience fed into the next and that each therapist had a different attitude to my lengthy silences.

My first therapist desperately filled every silence and pause with new questions or personal stories. Often the sessions felt taken up by him and offered limited space for me and my slow process. I often had sessions that where solely driven by him. At first his remarks and ‘active’ approach was helpful as I was new to therapy and did not really know how to use the time. As the months went on however, I started feeling like the sessions weren’t mine, like my process and pauses were not respected and seen as valuable.

My second therapist was more able to tolerate my silence. I could spend half the session not speaking, it was a breath of fresh air to be allowed to just sit and think and process something within myself without the expectation to articulate anything. I wasn’t doing things for the therapist, the therapist was there for me. As such this silence was for my benefit but it was an insulated space where I did not let my therapist in, until I had the succinct version that I could share. In one session he reached out his hand to me and asked if he can touch my shoulder, I flinched away and he retreated. Touch was too intrusive, I needed to stay closed off and safe within my experience. Our quiet sessions were an opportunity for me to truly understand myself and honour my emotions and the different parts of me that were coming out. But it was mostly a one sided process, where my therapist was a tool to prompt my exploration. I often left our sessions smiling to myself that I got a lot out of it and laughed at the imagination of my therapist struggling with writing notes.

My third therapist gave room for my silence but would often try to “reach me” as I stayed closed off in my own world, I often felt intruded on or pulled out of my process to connect with her. It was frustrating and challenging for both of us as we tried to make sense of my silences. She would point to my body language or stimming, she commented on my tears, asked me what came up for me after she said something, and all of these felt off. It was only after a year when we discussed touch, when I could feel an increasing wish to stay connected and present with her but staying silent and within my bodily process. The following session we discussed what this touch would be, what it would mean and what would its purpose be. We decided to move the chairs closer and touch feet. As we moved a wave of connection went through me, it felt like a start of a whole new dimension in our therapeutic relationship. One where I did not feel pressured to verbally invite my therapist into my internal world and instead having a connection based on touch, and twitching our toes, and physical proximity. Since then our sessions became more relational where I saw her as a person rather than a tool and our work deepened.

What these experiences of Silence Taught me about Therapy

Silence can be awkward and uncomfortable or even anxiety inducing for both client and therapist. This might be due to attachment wounds where silence was used to punish or hide emotions and therefore filling in silence, constant checking in and asking for reassurance is a protective behaviour which aims to understand and control the other person’s silence. Therefore, it is crucial to build trust around silences. Perhaps sharing what silence means in this particular therapeutic relationship, exploring what comes up when the therapist or you are silent.

As a society we do not value silence and often pathologise it. It is often required of us to have answers quickly, keep ourselves occupied, process lots of information at once and therefore we are constantly surrounded by noise. Silence in the therapy room can therefore be an opportunity to pause, and strip away societal expectations, and rest. This can be particularly important if you are neurodiverse, where you need more time to process emotions and manage overstimulation. Silence and no expectations to communicate verbally can therefore be a powerful way for you to unmask in the therapy room.

Silence can be an important opportunity to tune into your body, check in with what is happening and what you need. At first it will be difficult to notice its signals, especially if it was never listened to or respected like this before. Your and the therapist's silence can be a symbol of patience and no pressure that your body will need to start trusting you and others again.

Silence can be a shared process of giving emotions the space to be. When an emotion comes up, staying silent with it can be a way to stay present with the emotion and honouring it. When done together with a therapist it can be a profound moment of having someone witness you cry, being angry, grieving which so often don’t feel tolerable for others to see. It can therefore be a powerful way to connect and build trust with your therapist, and to challenge the harmful beliefs about your emotions.

Silence can therefore be: isolating — awkward — stressful — insulated — protective — introspective — shared — compassionate — and so much more

Whatever it means to you, it is allowed and has an important role in the therapy room.