T,

I'm sure you've noticed how intently I stare at the floor/wall/my hands/anything other than you when I'm talking about something difficult. Any time I glance up you're still looking at me though. Thank you.

50% of the reason I can't look at you is shame. That one is pretty obvious.
But the other 50% is that I know you'll have that kind sincere non-judgmental compassionate look on your face, when I feel like what I'm saying should be eliciting disgust and revulsion. And as much as I crave that compassion and kindness, I can't let myself actually receive it. It makes me profoundly uncomfortable and makes me squirm. It feels too intense and overwhelming and wrong, and I somehow feel guilty for it. I can't quite explain it.

Thank you for being that way, even if I'm not yet ready to receive it. It helps that when I do glance up I can see that you're not judging me the way I judge myself. Maybe I'll try to look up more next time.
I kind of want to talk to you about it, but then I'd be way more self conscious about my eye contact in the future, and scared to let myself look at you because then you'd know I was allowing myself to seek that kindness and comfort.