The Truth their Silence tells
When we confront a parent or family member about painful truths, especially about abuse, and are met with silence, defensiveness, or a refusal to engage, it can feel destabilizing. We may wonder: Am I overreacting? Am I making this up? If it really happened, wouldn’t they respond with urgency, care, or horror?
But here’s what’s important to understand: Silence is a response. Defense is a form of communication. And often, what’s not said reveals more than what is.
When a parent:
Reacts defensively rather than relationally,
Responds in a neutral, cold, avoidant, or emotional absent way,
Deflects the conversation to logistics or mediation,
Claims ignorance but offers no curiosity,
Refuses to say “I believe you”,
Expresses general apologies but avoids meaningful contact with your pain,
Makes your truth feel like a burden or accusation,
Or simply goes quiet…
What they are often revealing is:
A deep inability or unwillingness to face the truth,
A desire to protect their image rather than protect you,
That they know enough to feel the need to protect themselves and evade the topic, fearing that your truth will implicate them—in action or inaction.
These types of responses confirm the truth (abuse) more than denial ever could. Why? Because a healthy parent—especially one who truly didn’t know—would not remain neutral or silent in the face of such revelations.
If a healthy parent truly didn’t know what was happening (say, you were abused by another family member, or they were so dissociated they missed the signs), then hearing that their child was hurt would shatter them. They would want to know everything. They would grieve with you. They would respond with urgency, care, accountability, and remorse.
“When did it start?”
“How did I not see it?”
“How can I help you now?”
“I am so sorry. I failed you. Thank you for telling me.”
They would not go silent. They would not make it about themselves. They would not try to fix it quickly. They would stay in the discomfort with you. They would ask. They would grieve. They would apologize, even if it wasn't "their fault.” Their love would move toward your pain—not away from it.
But their silence doesn’t make it untrue. It makes it undeniable.
Their silence is not neutral-it is a loud confirmation that says: "I can’t go there, because if I do, I’ll have to face my own complicity, my own blind eye, my own survival mechanisms—and I’m not willing to do that. Your truth threatens my denial."
Silence and defensive reactions do not cancel out the survivor’s truth. It does the opposite. It cements it.
Because in that moment, the expected response to serious revelations—empathy, curiosity, alarm, accountability—is missing. And the absence of these natural, human responses says more than words ever could. It shows the survivor that the emotional vacancy they experienced as a child… is still there.
These non-responses become proof:
That the person doesn’t want to go near the truth.
That they are unwilling or unable to reckon with the pain they caused—or allowed.
That their priority is protecting themselves, not repairing the damage.
That the emotional disconnection and neglect they felt then… is still how they relate to you now.
Let’s define what this looks like in a truly supportive parent, even one who is shocked or blindsided:
Urgency: They want to understand and help—not delay, change the subject, or suggest waiting until things “calm down.”
→ “I’m here. Tell me everything. I want to understand.”
Care: They’re not just worried about how they come across—they are devastated that you were hurt.
→ “I had no idea this happened. You didn’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”Accountability: Even if they didn’t know, they acknowledge the impact of their absence, silence, or failure to protect.
→ “I didn’t protect you. That’s on me. I wish I had been stronger, clearer, more present.”Remorse: A genuine emotional response—not performative, not defensive. They feel with you.
→ [tears, emotion, presence] “I’m heartbroken. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”
If you’ve been gaslit by silence, if you’re wrestling with the ache of unacknowledged harm, know this: your reality matters. What happened matters. The absence of words doesn’t erase the weight of what you felt, saw, or survived.
It’s confusing to grieve what was done and what was never spoken of. But healing begins with telling the truth — not necessarily to them, but to yourself.
If you're ready to begin untangling the silence, I invite you to schedule a free discovery call. This work is hard, but you don’t have to do it alone.