Can silence help heal trauma? ACM journalist Julia Driscoll believes it can.

Six months ago, I was standing outside my ex-partner's home as the police broke in through a window for a welfare check.

They found his body inside.

He had been dead for around 10 days.

Six weeks later I was at my annual weekend-long silent meditation retreat.

Since finding my ex, I had been longing for the retreat as a reprieve from the trauma, worry about my son, and everything that goes along with arrangements after a loved one dies.

I knew the retreat could go one of two ways - ideally, it could be a blissful relief and I would return home feeling a lot better, or, it could get very, very messy.

It didn't go the first way.

All weekend, while sitting and walking in meditation, I couldn't escape the constant choking feeling I had since the day we found my ex.

I was beset with the recurring whiffs of phantom smell of dead person that had distressed me since that day.

And I kept being plagued by one intrusive thought, "He was there for 10 days. He was there for 10 days," over and over and over.

On the Sunday morning, only a few hours before the retreat was due to end, I had a new thought pop in ... "This is not the way I want to remember him."

That was a pivotal moment. The dam broke. So did my heart.

My Buddhist teacher stayed by my side as I broke silence by crying and talking.

While incredibly uncomfortable, the silence and the meditation was what allowed the mess to bubble up and over.

The result was I felt lighter, I felt some relief, and I felt loving kindness for my ex, instead of distress.

However, that was just the beginning. I needed more. I felt that now I had come to that point, I needed to continue the silence, in that nurturing mud-brick monastery built by nuns in the 1970s, and the bush and wildlife that surrounded it, to just be and breathe.

To heal while I sat and walked in nature.

But I couldn't. I had to return home.

It didn't take long to revert to trying to get through each single day sluggish and weighed down with grief, depression, and PTSD.

Where every day started with me curled up in bed resisting getting up to walk the 20 steps to my desk to start work, and trudging back again to my bed in utter exhaustion as soon as the working day ended.

I was hanging in with two weeks' annual leave as the carrot at the end of the stick, and I booked a little cabin on a mountain for a week.

So there I was a few weeks ago.

It was just me and the birds and a view to die for (and one curious dingo for 10 seconds or so). No television, no news, no conversations, no social media.

I read two books, I sat in the sun, I journalled (a lot), I meditated (probably not enough), and I sketched and water-coloured the different species of birds that kept me company.

And the nightmares stopped after two nights.

It wasn't all bliss and happiness - there was a period of darkness and tears when I contemplated my abject failure as a partner, mother and a general human being, but for the most part, it was lovely and restorative.

For the first time in a long time, I started to feel hopeful, optimistic and re-energised to get things done.

And just plain happy.

If I have learnt anything from the events of this year it is how important silence is to my mental health.

At the meditation retreat, silence allowed me the space to deal with some of the psychological mess and find clarity about what was important.

At the cabin on the mountain, feeling like a wounded bird, the silence allowed me to start healing from the horrifying trauma.

I know the healing will continue and it will take some time, but I'm healing in a healthy way.

Staying with stillness and silence allows self awareness and acceptance, and can bring clarity of mind. It helps to declutter our minds, and is a space away from the barrage of the noise of everyday life.

So many of us choose to fill our lives with television, social media, radio, digital devices, mindless chatter - anything to keep ourselves from being with ourselves. When in reality, it might be just what you need.

Whether it be getting up half an hour early to write morning pages (stream of consciousness journalling) or just sitting outside with a cup of coffee listening to the birds, or spending five minutes during the day doing a Smiling Mind app meditation, or going the whole hog with a silent retreat, give it a go, give your mind a rest.

Silence can be challenging, but it is healing, and it is beautiful.

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