May 28, 2025
I take on other people's issues and try to be there for them because I haven’t learnt how to do it for myself. I have been working on these issues I have had with myself my whole life. I don’t feel like I can be vulnerable with myself or face my own insecurities, issues, and lack of self-acceptance and love, I try to do it for other people.
I try to be what I would want someone to be for me. I try to be there for others, be supportive, stick by them, and work on growing with them. Because I am unable to do it alone. I tried to become someone that she wanted me to be to an extent. I obviously had some dignity and stood my ground on things, but I am more talking about behaviors, though. Something I uncovered in therapy today was that the small thing, this very small thing: why I was so scared to hold her hand when we first met and we would walk around outside. after this dissecting it, I realize it's not because I didn't want to be seen with her. Yes, I was scared of the public interpretation of myself in a new place with new people, and how everything I did influenced how I was being seen in a completely new and scary environment. But that wasnt really the reason. It was far more subconscious that I am only just now realizing, and didn't have the understanding of my own feelings and the roots of them until I walked through it out loud with a professional. The last time I had ever held hands with someone in public was when I was publicly presenting as a woman, in an abusive lesbian relationship with a woman who would force me to hold her hand in public and would hit me otherwise. That was when I was 13 or 14, over 4 years ago now. I hadn't held anyone's hand in public in that kind of way since I was only in long-distance relationships after that. I didn't realize that's what the feeling came from, I didn't realize that's why it felt so difficult for me to be okay with it, it seems silly, because I did enjoy being seen with her, I was happy to have her near me. It was quite literally unconscious, it's not that I didn't want to hold her hand. It was a symptom of repressed trauma. It’s fucking embarassing realizing that now. Why didn’t I realize it? Because I repress my emotions with my logical mind, I avoid addressing the roots of my feelings. I couldn’t understand it at the time, obviously it was read as me not wanting to hold her hand for whatever reason she thinks it was, I gave her no other reason, because I myself didn’t know the reason, and was too scared to figure it out. I wanted to hold her hand, I wanted to be with her, from the beginning, I was just fucking terrified. This was old shit uncovering itself without me understand what the fuck it was or why it was happening, let alone how I was feeling about it. It seems so silly. It is really fucking embarassing really. It wasn’t her. It had nothing to do with her. There are a lot of things I was unaware of how they impacted me, and also how they impacted other people. Now I have to go back and figure everything else out. I went into my connection with her, predicting that there were going to be all these problems because of my past relationships and past experiences with other people. That prediction and the impact that fear had on me almost solidified the problems into reality in a way. I am unsure.
Apparently, I have a lot of shame. I shame myself a lot. I am ashamed of my neurodivergency and my big emotions, I feel they are deficits and therefore repress them. The way my brain is wired causes me lots of issues in every part of my life. I don't like it, and I am not okay with it. There's that, and then there's the emotions. I know I have bigger emotions than the typical person. Scientifically, that's just how neurodivergent brains react to things or do not react to things, and how much or little their emotions impact them. It tends to be much more than the ‘normal’ peer. So, I have all these ‘big emotions’ and I am also very logical in my thinking, I never want to really dissect why I am feeling the way I feel, and when I do, it's always very surface level. I dont usually want to dig deeper because, well, its fucking scary. It means being vulnerable with myself and thats fucking terrifying. Everytime I am vulnerable with myself it is often not by choice, and it is an extreme situation where shit hits the fan I am left with me myself and I in my little head. I repress a lot of emotions. I thought I was able to be open about things, but I’m realizing that I was not nearly as much as I thought I was. There are reasons for that that I also didn't see. It was a survival tactic, I was protecting myself, unconsoiysly, and it ended up hurting me even more, but fuck. Then theres the other part, that we were both extremely vulnerable. We both had a difficult time dealing with our own vulnerabilities ourselves. For me, that looked like my repressed emotions and feelings, the love I have for her, and the fear that came with it, and all the reasons behind the fear, all of the shame and guilt that followed it all. My feelings about myself, how I see myself, everything like that. I repressed all this shit inwardly, I didnt want to be vulnerable with myself, by myself, because it meant I would have to face those things with no one to support me, I dont think I was ready for that, I wasn’t able to be the only one holding my head above the water. I was able to express things to her, she was able to listn ro me and make me feel heard often, make me not feel like I was a fucking freak. Her vulnerability was that she also couldn't be vulnerable with herself regarding her own mortality and her anxieties. It was more outward presenting than mine, being inward, with clinical anxiety, fears about health, about everything, the dependency on parental figures, dependency on reassurance external from herself in order to feel secure. These were things she had a hard time dealing with at times. Just like I had a hard time dealing with mine, we were able to deal with our shit together, we latched onto each other. I feel like utter poop butt ALL THE TIME. shit doesnt leave me alone. Serves me right, but I wish I could let go.