Quote:
Originally Posted by WePow
This keeps sticking at me... I keep thinking about it. And that is why I will not tell him about it... there is something very deep there. Something about telling someone when they hurt me and then that is like giving them weapons to use against me again. That if they know that something they did or how I interpreted an action "got" to me, that they will use it in the future to harm me intentionally. I am not sure when I learned that lesson or how. But I know that lesson is very deep. The more something hurts me, the more I will hide it from that person. I remember when I was a teen being in agony around "friends" and laughing it up and pretending I was having the time of my life. I remember doing all I could do to make darn sure they NEVER found out about my pain. Interesting.
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I understand this **perfectly**, wepow.
For me, it led to being so masked that I could be a complete freaking out mess inside and look calm and collected on the outside. I still struggle with that. My T has learned to pick up on the subtler signs of my anxiety or inner turmoil, but most people would never know. It is something I learned very, very early in life and will probably never completely lose. And that's ok with me. It kept me safe for a long time.
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She left pieces of her life behind her everywhere she went.
"It's easier to feel the sunlight without them," she said.
~Brian Andreas