u/ladyboss25

I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m genuinely trying to understand the psychology behind it.

Why do some people seem to place others into hierarchies? Why do some people treat someone differently depending on their achievements, appearance, career, social status, or how “successful” they seem from the outside?

I find this really difficult to understand because I don’t naturally see people that way. I don’t understand how someone can look at another person and unconsciously decide that they deserve more respect, patience, or kindness because they have achieved certain things.

Something I’ve been struggling with is the feeling that some people only started seeing me differently after I had “proven” myself. After I had a good career, a nice home, and appeared more confident from the outside, suddenly the way people interacted with me changed.

And I find that incredibly confusing and honestly painful, because the person was still the same person before.

I was still the same person when I was struggling. I still had feelings, needs, thoughts, and things that mattered to me. Why does it sometimes feel like people only recognize someone’s worth after there is external evidence that they are “successful”?

I also wonder if this is something that happens between siblings or within families. Is it common for one sibling to be seen through a certain role for years, while people don’t really see them as a whole person anymore?

Something else I struggle to understand is why some people seem to think it’s okay to hurt someone who is more sensitive or who doesn’t respond in the same way.

I’ve often had the feeling in my life that people thought they could do things to me that they wouldn’t do to others. Maybe because I was visibly hurt instead of immediately fighting back. Maybe because I had certain moral boundaries and didn’t want to hurt someone back just because they hurt me.

But I don’t understand what happens psychologically when someone sees another person’s pain and needs, but somehow doesn’t fully register them.

The hardest part for me is that I know rationally people can hurt others because of their own choices, patterns, or limitations. But emotionally, I still struggle with accepting that someone can hurt me without there being something wrong with me.

A part of me always wants to find the reason inside myself.

“Maybe I caused it.”
“Maybe I wasn’t enough.”
“Maybe there was something about me that made this happen.”

Even though I know logically that isn’t always true.
I’m curious about people’s experiences with this. Have you ever noticed people treating you differently after you became more successful or confident? Do you think some people genuinely don’t see the person behind the role they have assigned them?

And for those who grew up in families where these dynamics existed how did you understand it later in life? What was actually happening there?

I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m genuinely trying to understand the psychology behind it.

Why do some people seem to place others into hierarchies? Why do some people treat someone differently depending on their achievements, appearance, career, social status, or how “successful” they seem from the outside?

I find this really difficult to understand because I don’t naturally see people that way. I don’t understand how someone can look at another person and unconsciously decide that they deserve more respect, patience, or kindness because they have achieved certain things.

Something I’ve been struggling with is the feeling that some people only started seeing me differently after I had “proven” myself. After I had a good career, a nice home, and appeared more confident from the outside, suddenly the way people interacted with me changed.

And I find that incredibly confusing and honestly painful, because the person was still the same person before.

I was still the same person when I was struggling. I still had feelings, needs, thoughts, and things that mattered to me. Why does it sometimes feel like people only recognize someone’s worth after there is external evidence that they are “successful”?

I also wonder if this is something that happens between siblings or within families. Is it common for one sibling to be seen through a certain role for years, while people don’t really see them as a whole person anymore?

Something else I struggle to understand is why some people seem to think it’s okay to hurt someone who is more sensitive or who doesn’t respond in the same way.

I’ve often had the feeling in my life that people thought they could do things to me that they wouldn’t do to others. Maybe because I was visibly hurt instead of immediately fighting back. Maybe because I had certain moral boundaries and didn’t want to hurt someone back just because they hurt me.

But I don’t understand what happens psychologically when someone sees another person’s pain and needs, but somehow doesn’t fully register them.

The hardest part for me is that I know rationally people can hurt others because of their own choices, patterns, or limitations. But emotionally, I still struggle with accepting that someone can hurt me without there being something wrong with me.

A part of me always wants to find the reason inside myself.

“Maybe I caused it.”
“Maybe I wasn’t enough.”
“Maybe there was something about me that made this happen.”

Even though I know logically that isn’t always true.
I’m curious about people’s experiences with this. Have you ever noticed people treating you differently after you became more successful or confident? Do you think some people genuinely don’t see the person behind the role they have assigned them?

And for those who grew up in families where these dynamics existed how did you understand it later in life? What was actually happening there?

I honestly don’t really know where to put all of this right now, so I’m hoping to hear from people who may have experienced something similar.

I’m turning 27 in two weeks. I had actually planned to go to my family a little earlier this year and stay longer because I wanted to spend more time with them and celebrate my birthday together.

Instead, I feel like EMDR has lifted some kind of veil, and I’m suddenly seeing much more clearly how emotionally neglected I actually was and how much of that dynamic is still happening today.

And I’m completely overwhelmed by it because my CPTSD gets triggered again.

It wasn’t simply that my sister insulted me. I was systematically ignored, excluded and emotionally neglected throughout my childhood and adolescence. When I brought up things that were hurting me, I was often punished for bringing them up or told that I was exaggerating. My mother also insulted me herself. There were periods where I genuinely felt completely alone in my own home.

I had breakdowns in front of my mother and was sometimes not taken seriously or even mocked.
I repeatedly told my parents that I wasn’t okay, that I couldn’t take it anymore and that I was suffering. But nobody really stepped in and made things better.

And now, as an adult, I’m experiencing something emotionally very similar again.

I can tell my mother, “This is hurting me.”

I can tell her, “You’re leaving me alone in this in exactly the way you did back then.”

And instead of saying, “Okay. I understand. I didn’t realize this. I’m sorry. What can I do differently?”, the conversation shifts into something completely different.

She says things like that she’s a terrible person, that God will judge her, that she has to deal with it with God, or that she withdrew from people because of all of this and says she has nothing to tell me and gets VERY angry.

I just want to resolve this with her. I want her to understand what happened and what it did to me, and I want us to be able to actually talk about it.
But that seems almost impossible.

Based on what I’ve experienced, I would describe my mother as very strongly fearful-avoidant (FA), with an extremely strong avoidant component.

My father seems very clearly dismissive-avoidant (DA) to me. And I think growing up with these dynamics contributed to me developing a very disorganized attachment pattern myself, where I have an incredibly strong need for closeness and emotional safety, while simultaneously having learned that I have to fight for it, explain myself, monitor everything and adapt myself in order to maintain relationships.
And EMDR is making me realize just how much this has shaped my entire life.

I’m realizing how much I’ve spent my life trying to make people understand when something hurts me, hoping that eventually they will care enough to change something.

But I’ve honestly never experienced that consistently within a close relationship.

If I quietly say, “That hurt me,” nobody comes.
If I withdraw, nobody comes.
If I’m sad, I have to explain it.
If I have a boundary, I have to defend it.
If I’m not assertive enough, I get ignored.
And at some point I became someone who constantly points things out, analyzes everything, explains myself and tries to repair relationships.

But that’s actually not who I am.
I’m naturally very gentle.
I don’t want to fight.

But I feel like if I don’t fight, I’ll be forgotten.
And that realization is breaking my heart.
Because my birthday is in two weeks.
Instead of simply looking forward to it, I’m thinking about how much time I can actually spend with my family without becoming completely dysregulated again.

EMDR is making me feel like I’m finally understanding just how alone I must have felt as a teenager.

And I don’t really know what to do with that realization.

I can’t force them to change.

I can’t force my mother to see her own history differently.

I can’t force my father to respect my boundaries.
For example, he does things in my apartment even when I explicitly tell him I don’t want him to.

Or when I tell him I’m scared while he’s driving, he sometimes drives even faster and says that nothing can happen because he’s such a good driver.

And yet, I still love these people in some ways.
That’s what makes this so incredibly painful.
I don’t want to simply cut everything off. At the same time, I can’t keep pretending that everything was fine.

Right now, with EMDR bringing so much to the surface, I feel extremely activated, irritated, sad and exhausted. I genuinely look like I’ve been going through something awful.

I think my actual question is:
How do you accept that your parents may never give you the emotional safety you’ve been longing for your entire life and how do you deal with suddenly seeing through therapy just how alone you actually were?

I’m struggling to understand a dynamic with my sister, and I honestly feel like I cannot make sense of it anymore.

I want to start by saying that I am not claiming to be perfect. I have made mistakes. I have said things in the past that I regret, and I have spent years in therapy working on myself, my trauma, my reactions, and my patterns. I genuinely try to take responsibility when I hurt someone.
The confusing part is this:

My sister and I grew up in a very emotionally avoidant family. Feelings were rarely talked about, conflicts were not repaired, and problems were usually ignored until they disappeared.

During my teenage years, I often felt heavily criticized by my family, including my sister. A lot of my choices, my behavior, and the way I was living my life were judged. I was struggling a lot emotionally during that time, but instead of feeling supported, I often felt like I was seen as the problem.

When I started therapy several years ago, my family did not really understand or support it. Therapy was viewed negatively, and I heard comments suggesting that needing therapy meant something was wrong with me. I continued anyway, and over the years therapy has completely changed my life. I have worked extremely hard on myself and on understanding my own patterns.

Now, years later, some of my family members are starting therapy themselves, which I actually think is a positive thing.

But my relationship with my sister still feels impossible to repair.

A recurring pattern is that she brings up things I did years ago and tells me they still affect our relationship. I ask her what exactly happened because I genuinely want to understand and take responsibility.

But often the answer is something like: “I don’t remember exactly, I just know it happened.”
This leaves me in a very confusing position. I am being held responsible for something I cannot fully understand, explain, or repair because I don’t know what the actual situation was.

When I ask for clarification, the conversation often shifts into other things I have done wrong. Suddenly we are no longer talking about the original issue. I end up explaining myself, defending myself, and after hours of conversation we are no closer to understanding each other.
The hardest part is that she genuinely seems to believe she is resolving the conflict.

From my perspective, resolution means:

both people acknowledge each other’s feelings

both people look at their own contribution

both people try to understand what happened

something changes afterward

But with her, it often feels like resolution means:

explaining her perspective

saying she feels hurt

agreeing that we see things differently

moving on

And I leave the conversation feeling worse than before.

The part that confuses me the most is that she often seems calm afterwards. She can go back to her life, sleep normally, and seem unaffected, while I spend days crying, analyzing everything, and questioning myself.

I do not think my sister is intentionally manipulating me. That is actually what makes it harder. I think she genuinely believes her version of events.

But I cannot understand how two people can experience the same conversations so differently.
For example, I recently explained why something I did years ago happened. I acknowledged that my behavior was not perfect, explained my perspective, and took responsibility for my part. But I also tried to explain the context of where I was emotionally at that time and what was happening in my life.

Her response was that she did not really understand what I wanted from her because she had already “moved on” from the past.
But for me, moving on is not the same as repairing.
I feel like I am constantly trying to create emotional closeness with someone who struggles with emotional depth and accountability. At the same time, I don’t want to unfairly label her or make her the villain.

So my question is:
Is it possible to have a close relationship with someone who cannot or does not want to engage in emotional repair?

Has anyone experienced something similar, especially with family members who are not obviously abusive, but where conversations leave you feeling confused, guilty, and emotionally exhausted?

I’m not looking for people to tell me my sister is a bad person. I genuinely want to understand what is happening here.

Yesterday I had an EMDR session, and something came up that I wasn't expecting.

When I was 13, I met my first boyfriend. We didn't start dating right away. For almost two years, we slowly became best friends. We went for walks, rode pedal boats, took day trips, wandered around IKEA, and even took the train to Hamburg just to spend time together. It was innocent, slow, and effortless.
I had never liked anyone the way I liked him. Not because of excitement or butterflies, but because I genuinely loved being around him. Looking back, I think that's what real love started as for me.
Eventually he told me he had feelings for me, and we became a couple. The first few months were beautiful. Then, almost overnight, something changed.

He stopped treating me with warmth. He started talking to other girls, cheated on me multiple times, humiliated me, blamed me for everything, and slowly turned into someone I barely recognised.

People often ask why I stayed. The truth is that I tried to leave many times. I think I attempted to break up with him around 40 times. Somehow, I never managed to go through with it. He never really let me leave either. Every time I tried, he found a way to pull me back in. I loved him so deeply that I felt completely trapped.

I know people would probably call it trauma bonding, and I think there was definitely an element of that. But underneath it, there was also genuine love, at least on my side. That is what has always made it so confusing.

Yesterday, during EMDR, I realised something that hit me harder than I expected.

I don't think I've ever truly recovered from the belief that formed back then: being myself isn't enough.

Before that relationship, I never questioned whether I was lovable. Afterwards, I spent years believing that if I had been prettier, more interesting, or somehow enough, he wouldn't have treated me that way.

I know, rationally, that cheating says more about the person who cheats than the person who gets cheated on. But emotionally, that belief is still lives somewhere inside me.

What confuses me most is this. The beginning felt so real. We were best friends before we were a couple. I still believe those years were genuine.
Has anyone else experienced someone changing this drastically? How does someone go from loving and respecting you to treating you like you mean nothing?

It hurts so very deeply..

I’m curious if anyone in this community has experienced something similar.

Over the past years, I have done a lot of inner work. I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting, meditating, healing old wounds, and recently I also went through EMDR therapy to process difficult experiences.

There were moments, especially through meditation, where I experienced a very deep sense of freedom. Almost like I could step back from my thoughts completely. I didn’t need to prove anything, become anything, or fix anything. I was just present.

During that time, I also noticed something interesting: I was so detached from the idea of needing a relationship that I almost didn’t even desire one anymore. It wasn’t coming from fear, but from a feeling of being completely whole on my own.

Now something has shifted. I feel more open again. I feel more connected to life, to people, and also to the possibility of romantic love.

But strangely, as soon as that vulnerability came back, it feels like my old beliefs came back with it.
Certain thoughts feel incredibly real, almost like absolute truths:

“Once my apartment is perfect, then I will finally be someone who is lovable.”

“Once I have my career figured out, then I will be enough.”

“Once I become the best version of myself, then someone will choose me.”

And intellectually, I can see that these are just thoughts. I know love, worth, and connection are not things we earn through perfection.

But emotionally, these beliefs feel so convincing.
It almost feels like my ego is fighting for survival. Like after all the healing work, there is a part of me that desperately tries to hold onto the old identity because it believes that constant improvement, control, and analysis are what keep me safe.

The strange thing is: I have experienced the opposite. I have experienced moments where I was completely detached from these stories and felt incredibly free.

But now that I am opening myself up to intimacy and relationships again, those old fears seem to return.

I’m wondering if anyone here has experienced this:

Can deep healing bring old ego patterns back to the surface when we become vulnerable again?
How do you distinguish between genuine self-growth and the ego creating another project out of “becoming healed”?

How do you love yourself while still growing, without turning your own existence into something that constantly needs to be improved?

I would love to hear perspectives from people who have gone through similar phases of awakening, healing, or deep inner work.

I'm trying to make sense of a friendship that has been confusing me for a long time.

I have a friend who is genuinely kind. We get along well, and there isn't any obvious conflict between us. She tells me that the time spend with me heals her soul and that she likes me exactly as I am. But every time I'm around her, I slowly become someone I don't recognize.

Instead of feeling relaxed, I feel like I have to be funny, interesting, easygoing, and entertaining. I feel like I have to earn my place in the friendship. The strange thing is that this isn't who I am anymore.

I have a history of CPTSD, and for years I struggled with insecurity and people-pleasing. Back then, I acted like this around almost everyone. But I've spent the last seven years in therapy and actively working on myself, and today I would honestly describe myself as pretty securely attached ("earned secure"). With most people I'm calm, authentic, and I don't feel like I have to perform.

That's why this friendship confuses me so much.
Being around her brings back a version of myself that I thought I'd left behind. A version that doesn't even feel like me. It's like I lose control over myself. I suddenly overshare without meaning to, talk way more than I normally would, and afterward I wonder why I couldn't just stay grounded. It honestly feels as if I'm watching myself become someone else.

Another thing I've noticed is that I feel strangely... small around her. Almost like a child. I walk away feeling as if something is wrong with me, even though I don't usually feel that way in my other close relationships.

Something else that stands out is how she talks about dating. She is very critical of men and often finds ways to speak negatively about them, yet at the same time, dating seems to be the center of her life. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that finding a partner can't be the answer to everything, and that it's important to feel okay with yourself first. I don't know if that's relevant, but it feels like part of the overall dynamic.

She also rarely shows vulnerability herself. I've never really seen her cry, openly express sadness, or admit to struggling emotionally. Yet very early in our friendship, we both shared a lot of our traumatic experiences. At the time, I thought that created genuine closeness. Now I'm wondering whether we bonded through trauma rather than emotional safety.

I don't want to end the friendship. That's not what this is about.

What I'm struggling with is understanding why this happens. Is this simply old trauma being activated because emotional closeness feels threatening? Or is it possible that certain people especially those who tend to keep emotional distance bring out old survival patterns even if you've done a lot of healing?

The biggest clue for me is that I don't experience this with most people. With my closest friend, I feel completely like myself. Around her, I feel like a child, like something is fundamentally wrong with me, and like I have to become someone else in order to be accepted.

Has anyone experienced something similar? How did you figure out whether it was your own unresolved attachment wounds being triggered, or whether the relationship itself simply didn't feel emotionally safe anymore?

I’m struggling to put this into words, but I'm wondering if anyone can relate.

A few years ago I moved to Berlin after leaving a deeply traumatic six year relationship. Looking back, I was in one of the darkest periods of my life. I had depression, anxiety, was on antidepressants, and my nervous system was completely overwhelmed.

At the same time, I experienced some of the most beautiful moments of my life there.

Part of that was because of a relationship I had. He showed me a different way of living. He was very intentional about relationships and friendships. He would plan little trips, introduce me to people who mattered to him, create meaningful experiences, and make people feel included in his life. He showed me what it looked like to actively build a life instead of just reacting to one.

But it wasn't only him.

Despite how much I was suffering back then, I somehow felt more connected to myself. I felt more grateful. I noticed little things. I was constantly experiencing new places, meeting new people, and I felt like I was living, even though I was struggling.

A few years ago I moved to Leipzig. I started a new job, burned out fairly quickly, lost that job, and now I'm looking for work while trying to build a small business. I've even made two friends here, and they're lovely people.

The problem is that I feel... stuck.
Nothing really seems to develop. My friendships don't feel like they're naturally growing deeper. I keep meeting the same kind of emotionally unavailable men. I'm much more closed off than I used to be. I've been doing EMDR therapy for two years, but sometimes I feel even more disconnected from the version of myself I used to be.

Oddly enough, I almost feel like I knew who I was better when I had severe depression than I do now.

These days everything feels strangely flat.
Even when I imagine getting another job, I think, "Okay... I'll go to work, come home, maybe go to the gym, and repeat." It feels like life is happening in loops instead of moving forward.

I also struggle to imagine building relationships anymore because I automatically assume they'll be temporary. When I meet a man, my first thought is often that he's probably only interested in my appearance anyway, so I don't let myself become emotionally invested.

I know these beliefs probably come from trauma, and I'm working on them. But I can't shake the feeling that somewhere along the way I lost my sense of direction.

Has anyone experienced something similar after trauma therapy?

Did you ever feel like you had healed in some ways but had also lost touch with the person you used to be? And if so, how did you find purpose again instead of just going through the motions every day?

I’m really torn about this and would appreciate honest opinions.

For context, I've been doing EMDR therapy for about two years, and this is now the fifth time that my second ex has come up as a central theme during processing. After my session yesterday, I spent about an hour crying, drawing, and grieving everything that happened between us. It feels like my brain is processing something that was never fully resolved.

Some background:
Before I met him, I had just left a six year relationship that was extremely traumatic. My ex from that relationship was emotionally abusive, and I strongly believe he had narcissistic traits along with other serious mental health issues. By the time I finally left, I was completely broken.
I moved to Berlin to rebuild my life, and that's where I met my second ex.

At that time I was struggling with severe depression, anxiety, and was on antidepressants. I honestly thought living in constant emotional survival mode was just normal.

Then I met him.

He wasn't perfect. Looking back, I think he was quite emotionally avoidant, but he wasn't cruel. Communication mattered to him. He didn't ghost me. We talked through conflicts. He introduced me to his friends, gave me a key to his apartment, planned little trips, showed me the city, bought thoughtful gifts, and we took care of each other during COVID. When his grandmother died, I was there for him.

He brought so much lightness into my life. More importantly, he showed me that life could actually feel joyful again.

Ironically, I was the one who ended the relationship.

The closer we became, the more terrified I became. At the time I thought I simply had commitment issues, but now, after years of therapy, I think my nervous system was completely overwhelmed from previous trauma. I left because I felt like I had to escape, not because I stopped loving him.

Shortly after we broke up, he started seeing another woman. That completely shattered me because he knew everything I had been through before. He later told me he was only trying to distract himself because he couldn't handle being alone, but it still felt like another huge betrayal.
After that, I completely lost myself emotionally.
I sent him an incredibly hurtful message. I didn't insult him with swear words, but I deliberately used language that I knew would hurt him deeply. Looking back, it doesn't reflect who I am at all. At that time I was in an awful place mentally, and I had many trauma responses. I couldn't even identify my own emotions or needs back then.
Over the past three years, therapy has changed me enormously.

Today I don't just miss what he did for me. I genuinely miss who he is as a person. His personality, his optimism, and the way he approached life. He had a profound impact on who I became, and I honestly believe he changed the direction of my life forever.

He has now been in another relationship for about two years, and I absolutely do not want to interfere with that or send mixed signals.
I don't want him back.

I don't want to rekindle anything.
I simply want to tell him that I'm deeply sorry for the way I treated him at the end, that I now understand I left because I was terrified and not because I didn't love him, that our relationship meant the world to me, and that I will always be grateful for everything he brought into my life.
I don't expect anything from him. I don't need closure from him. I don't even need a reply.

I just feel like if I never tell him this, I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

At the same time, I don't want to disrupt his current life or cross a boundary.

If you were in his position, would you want to receive a message like this after four years? Or is it kinder to leave the past alone?

Something I still struggle to understand about avoidant attachment is this: if someone knows there is a deeper level of emotional intimacy, vulnerability, and connection, do they ever feel like they are missing out on something important in life by not going there?

Another thing I struggle to understand is this: when someone says “I can’t meet you on that emotional level” or “I don’t have the emotional capacity to give you what you need,” how do they know that level even exists if they don’t go there?
If they can recognize that there is a deeper kind of emotional connection, intimacy, or vulnerability, doesn’t that mean they have some awareness of it? So why not move toward it with someone they care about?

I understand that emotional closeness can feel overwhelming or unsafe, but what I’m trying to understand is what happens internally. Is it that they want that connection but their nervous system prevents them from moving toward it? Is it that they understand it intellectually but don’t feel able to experience it emotionally? Or is it something else?

And another thing I wonder about is whether they ever feel like they are missing out on a fuller version of life by staying away from that kind of connection. Do they ever fear missing out on the depth, meaning, and closeness that comes with emotional intimacy? Does it ever bother them that this part of their life might remain unexplored if they don’t work through it?

What confuses me is when someone has a secure person in front of them who is willing to be patient, present, and figure things out together. Why does it sometimes seem easier to panic, shut down, or push the person away instead of staying with the discomfort and asking: “How can we learn to do this together?”

I’m trying to understand the difference between someone who is afraid to go deeper and someone who simply doesn’t want to.

I’m trying to understand a friendship dynamic that still confuses me years later.

I had a best friend for around 10 years. She was one of the most important people in my life. She constantly complimented my looks, my personality, and my energy. She told me things like she loved me, that she couldn’t imagine her life without me, and that I was extremely special to her. She also talked about scenarios where we would live together someday.

At the same time, the friendship was incredibly intense and confusing. For a while she would text me 24/7, reply immediately, and want to spend time together constantly. Then she would suddenly pull away, cancel plans, and become distant. Later, I noticed she seemed to create similar intense dynamics with other people as well.

Eventually, I told her that I didn’t feel emotionally supported in the friendship. I wasn’t asking for anything romantic. I was simply saying that I missed emotional depth and feeling like she was there for me when I was struggling.

Years later, I tried to talk to her about how much the ghosting hurt me. I cried because I couldn’t understand how someone who was so important to me could disappear without an explanation. During that conversation, she kept asking if I had something to “confess” emotionally, as if I was going to admit that I had romantic feelings for her.

That completely confused me because I never experienced our relationship that way. I identify as straight, I have always been attracted to men, and I was never consciously in love with her.

Now, years later, I still question myself. Was there something I was unconsciously feeling and suppressing? Or was this simply an extremely intense friendship where my attachment and need for emotional safety were mistaken for romantic feelings?

How do you interpret a situation where someone mistakes deep emotional attachment and wanting closeness for romantic love? Has anyone experienced something similar?

I’ve been feeling a lot of shame around this, and I’ve been doing EMDR for several months now. This topic has come up for the third time, and I’m realizing how difficult it is for me to accept the possibility that she genuinely believes I had romantic feelings for her. The thought feels deeply humiliating because it feels like my actual needs were completely misunderstood.

I was trying to express that I wanted emotional safety, depth, and support in a friendship, and somehow it became a completely different story about me.

Struggling with deep shame and avoiding eye contact has anyone found a way through this?

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately in the context of EMDR therapy, and I’ve started noticing something that feels really central for me.
I struggle with making and maintaining eye contact with people.

Not in a mild “I’m a bit shy” way, but in a way that feels automatic and deeply emotional. When I look at someone during conversations, I often feel an intense sense of shame. It feels like a belief underneath everything that says “If they really see me, they will notice that I am not valuable.”

Because of that, I often look down, monitor my facial expressions, and try to carefully manage how I come across just to get through interactions. I can hold conversations, but it takes a lot of internal effort.

Lately, in EMDR, I feel like I am getting closer to deeper layers of this shame, and it is bringing this pattern into awareness much more strongly again.

What is interesting is that I also notice a very specific fear that comes with it. Intellectually, I understand that these thoughts are not necessarily true and that I could try to let them go in a more mindful or meditative way. But in practice, a very strong fear kicks in.

The fear is something like this: if I stop analyzing myself so much, I will miss something important about how I come across. I will not notice if there is something embarrassing, wrong, or unlovable about me, and other people will see it even if I do not. Then I will trust that everything is fine, but in reality people will notice it, judge me, talk about me behind my back, or eventually leave.

On an intellectual level, this feels hard to fully grasp, because nobody has ever directly mocked my appearance in my adult life. I did experience bullying in school, but it was more related to being very sensitive rather than how I look.

In my current life, I actually receive a lot of compliments about my appearance, my warmth, and my personality. Many people also tell me that my self-image does not match how others experience me at all. And I can also see that some of my positive traits are real and visible to others, even if I do not fully feel them myself.

But emotionally, there is still a very different self-image inside me, and it often feels more real than how others see me.

Because of that, eye contact in particular feels almost like a baseline difficulty for me. I do not really know what it would feel like to look at someone, feel connected, and actually feel safe and accepted while doing it.

I am curious if anyone here has experienced something similar, especially this mix of shame, self-monitoring, fear of being “seen,” and difficulty with eye contact.

Have you found anything that helped you loosen this pattern over time, not just intellectually, but in actual lived interactions?

Struggling with deep shame and avoiding eye contact has anyone found a way through this?

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately in the context of EMDR therapy, and I’ve started noticing something that feels really central for me.
I struggle with making and maintaining eye contact with people.

Not in a mild “I’m a bit shy” way, but in a way that feels automatic and deeply emotional. When I look at someone during conversations, I often feel an intense sense of shame. It feels like a belief underneath everything that says “If they really see me, they will notice that I am not valuable.”

Because of that, I often look down, monitor my facial expressions, and try to carefully manage how I come across just to get through interactions. I can hold conversations, but it takes a lot of internal effort.

Lately, in EMDR, I feel like I am getting closer to deeper layers of this shame, and it is bringing this pattern into awareness much more strongly again.

What is interesting is that I also notice a very specific fear that comes with it. Intellectually, I understand that these thoughts are not necessarily true and that I could try to let them go in a more mindful or meditative way. But in practice, a very strong fear kicks in.

The fear is something like this: if I stop analyzing myself so much, I will miss something important about how I come across. I will not notice if there is something embarrassing, wrong, or unlovable about me, and other people will see it even if I do not. Then I will trust that everything is fine, but in reality people will notice it, judge me, talk about me behind my back, or eventually leave.

On an intellectual level, this feels hard to fully grasp, because nobody has ever directly mocked my appearance in my adult life. I did experience bullying in school, but it was more related to being very sensitive rather than how I look.

In my current life, I actually receive a lot of compliments about my appearance, my warmth, and my personality. Many people also tell me that my self-image does not match how others experience me at all. And I can also see that some of my positive traits are real and visible to others, even if I do not fully feel them myself.

But emotionally, there is still a very different self-image inside me, and it often feels more real than how others see me.

Because of that, eye contact in particular feels almost like a baseline difficulty for me. I do not really know what it would feel like to look at someone, feel connected, and actually feel safe and accepted while doing it.

I am curious if anyone here has experienced something similar, especially this mix of shame, self-monitoring, fear of being “seen,” and difficulty with eye contact.

Have you found anything that helped you loosen this pattern over time, not just intellectually, but in actual lived interactions?

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately in the context of EMDR therapy, and I’ve started noticing something that feels really central for me.
I struggle with making and maintaining eye contact with people.

Not in a mild “I’m a bit shy” way, but in a way that feels automatic and deeply emotional. When I look at someone during conversations, I often feel an intense sense of shame. It feels like a belief underneath everything that says “If they really see me, they will notice that I am not valuable.”

Because of that, I often look down, monitor my facial expressions, and try to carefully manage how I come across just to get through interactions. I can hold conversations, but it takes a lot of internal effort.

Lately, in EMDR, I feel like I am getting closer to deeper layers of this shame, and it is bringing this pattern into awareness much more strongly again.

What is interesting is that I also notice a very specific fear that comes with it. Intellectually, I understand that these thoughts are not necessarily true and that I could try to let them go in a more mindful or meditative way. But in practice, a very strong fear kicks in.

The fear is something like this: if I stop analyzing myself so much, I will miss something important about how I come across. I will not notice if there is something embarrassing, wrong, or unlovable about me, and other people will see it even if I do not. Then I will trust that everything is fine, but in reality people will notice it, judge me, talk about me behind my back, or eventually leave.

On an intellectual level, this feels hard to fully grasp, because nobody has ever directly mocked my appearance in my adult life. I did experience bullying in school, but it was more related to being very sensitive rather than how I look.

In my current life, I actually receive a lot of compliments about my appearance, my warmth, and my personality. Many people also tell me that my self-image does not match how others experience me at all. And I can also see that some of my positive traits are real and visible to others, even if I do not fully feel them myself.

But emotionally, there is still a very different self-image inside me, and it often feels more real than how others see me.

Because of that, eye contact in particular feels almost like a baseline difficulty for me. I do not really know what it would feel like to look at someone, feel connected, and actually feel safe and accepted while doing it.

I am curious if anyone here has experienced something similar, especially this mix of shame, self-monitoring, fear of being “seen,” and difficulty with eye contact.

Have you found anything that helped you loosen this pattern over time, not just intellectually, but in actual lived interactions?

I've been working on myself for about six years now. I've done several rounds of therapy, but for a long time I couldn't really be honest with my therapists because I felt like a burden to them. I would talk about my problems, but I would present everything as if I was doing much better than I actually was. Looking back, I think that prevented them from seeing what was really going on.

One therapist eventually pointed out something that changed a lot for me: I could talk about my feelings, but I wasn't actually feeling them while talking. I seemed vulnerable on the surface, but emotionally I wasn't really there.

That's when we started EMDR. At first, I didn't really understand what it was doing. The effects felt subtle. But over time something started shifting. Then I moved away and had to stop therapy for a while.

About a year later, I started EMDR again, and now it feels completely different. I'm seeing things I simply wasn't capable of seeing back then. I've realized how much of my life was spent people pleasing and living in a fawn response. I wasn't just hiding my feelings. I was adapting my entire personality depending on who I was talking to. I don't think I ever really felt safe around other people. To this day, being alone is still the only place where I feel completely safe.

I was diagnosed with complex PTSD and used to struggle with many symptoms, including flashbacks and dissociation. Most of those symptoms have improved a lot over the years. But now it feels like EMDR is reaching deeper layers that I never touched before.

The strange thing is that I suddenly don't know what relationships are supposed to be anymore.
For most of my life, I had a kind of social script. I knew how to present myself. I knew what stories to tell, how much humor to use, how to make conversations pleasant, how to seem positive, supportive, independent, and emotionally stable. People generally liked me.

But now that I'm trying to be more authentic, the script isn't working anymore.

Another thing that confuses me is that I'm starting to question where my interest in other people came from in the first place.

I've always thought of myself as someone who was genuinely curious about people. I enjoyed conversations and getting to know others. But now I'm wondering how much of that came from people pleasing, constantly reading other people's emotional states, and adapting myself to them.

When it comes to romantic relationships especially, I sometimes feel strangely indifferent. Not because I dislike the other person, but because I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for anymore. I don't know what makes me want someone in my life. I don't know what a relationship is supposed to be built on once the old scripts disappear.

What's also scary is that I feel like it's affecting my appearance. My face looks more tired. I can see sadness in my eyes that wasn't visible before. My appearance and positive energy used to give me a sense of security in the world, and now that feels like it's fading too.

When I talk to people, especially in a romantic context, I often don't know what to say. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Sometimes I even lose interest in getting to know the other person, which feels confusing because I've always been curious and engaged with people.
It's almost like the personality structure I built to survive is falling apart, but I don't yet know what's underneath it.

Has anyone experienced something similar during trauma recovery, EMDR, or after letting go of people pleasing patterns?

Did you ever reach a point where you no longer knew how relationships worked because the old version of yourself was disappearing, but the authentic version hadn't fully emerged yet?
I'd really appreciate hearing other people's experiences or perspectives.

I've been working on myself for about six years now. I've done several rounds of therapy, but for a long time I couldn't really be honest with my therapists because I felt like a burden to them. I would talk about my problems, but I would present everything as if I was doing much better than I actually was. Looking back, I think that prevented them from seeing what was really going on.

One therapist eventually pointed out something that changed a lot for me: I could talk about my feelings, but I wasn't actually feeling them while talking. I seemed vulnerable on the surface, but emotionally I wasn't really there.
That's when we started EMDR. At first, I didn't really understand what it was doing. The effects felt subtle. But over time something started shifting. Then I moved away and had to stop therapy for a while.

About a year later, I started EMDR again, and now it feels completely different. I'm seeing things I simply wasn't capable of seeing back then. I've realized how much of my life was spent people pleasing and living in a fawn response. I wasn't just hiding my feelings. I was adapting my entire personality depending on who I was talking to. I don't think I ever really felt safe around other people. To this day, being alone is still the only place where I feel completely safe.

I was diagnosed with complex PTSD and used to struggle with many symptoms, including flashbacks and dissociation. Most of those symptoms have improved a lot over the years. But now it feels like EMDR is reaching deeper layers that I never touched before.

The strange thing is that I suddenly don't know what relationships are supposed to be anymore.
For most of my life, I had a kind of social script. I knew how to present myself. I knew what stories to tell, how much humor to use, how to make conversations pleasant, how to seem positive, supportive, independent, and emotionally stable. People generally liked me.

But now that I'm trying to be more authentic, the script isn't working anymore.

Another thing that confuses me is that I'm starting to question where my interest in other people came from in the first place.

I've always thought of myself as someone who was genuinely curious about people. I enjoyed conversations and getting to know others. But now I'm wondering how much of that came from people pleasing, constantly reading other people's emotional states, and adapting myself to them.

When it comes to romantic relationships especially, I sometimes feel strangely indifferent. Not because I dislike the other person, but because I genuinely don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for anymore. I don't know what makes me want someone in my life. I don't know what a relationship is supposed to be built on once the old scripts disappear.

What's also scary is that I feel like it's affecting my appearance. My face looks more tired. I can see sadness in my eyes that wasn't visible before. My appearance and positive energy used to give me a sense of security in the world, and now that feels like it's fading too.

When I talk to people, especially in a romantic context, I often don't know what to say. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Sometimes I even lose interest in getting to know the other person, which feels confusing because I've always been curious and engaged with people.

It's almost like the personality structure I built to survive is falling apart, but I don't yet know what's underneath it.

Has anyone experienced something similar during trauma recovery, EMDR, or after letting go of people pleasing patterns?

Did you ever reach a point where you no longer knew how relationships worked because the old version of yourself was disappearing, but the authentic version hadn't fully emerged yet?

I'd really appreciate hearing other people's experiences or perspectives.

Does anyone else feel trapped by stability, even when it's something they want?

I'm trying to understand a pattern in myself and I'm curious if anyone relates.

For most of my life, I've struggled with commitment in a way that goes way beyond relationships.

I want connection, love, stability, meaningful work, all of those things. But whenever something starts becoming permanent or predictable, something in me starts freaking out.
In dating, I can genuinely like someone and enjoy being close to them. But as soon as there's real emotional intimacy, I often feel this intense urge to escape.

In jobs, it's even worse.
I usually start out motivated and excited. But after a while, once I've learned the routines and know what my days are going to look like, I start feeling trapped and depressed.

It's not that the jobs are necessarily bad.
It's more that I suddenly start thinking:

"This can't be it."

"Surely there's something more meaningful I should be doing."

"Am I really going to spend my life Doing the same things every day?"

And then I start feeling like I'm wasting my life and not making any real difference in the world.

The strange thing is that I don't think I'm lazy or afraid of hard work. I actually have a lot of drive and I'm constantly working on projects, learning new things, and trying to grow.

It's specifically routine, permanence, and the feeling of being locked into something that seem to trigger me.

I recently dated someone and he eventually told me that he never knew where he stood with me.
Honestly, I don't think I knew either.

I noticed myself doing confusing things like suggesting we could date other people, even though I didn't actually want that. Looking back, I think I was trying to create an escape route because getting closer felt overwhelming.

The whole thing left me wondering:
Does this sound familiar to anyone with CPTSD, fearful-avoidant attachment, or trauma?

Has anyone else felt this connection between relationships, jobs, routine, and the fear of being trapped?

And if you've experienced something similar, what was actually underneath it?

I'd really love to hear other people's experiences.

Does anyone else feel trapped by stability, even when it's something they want?

I'm trying to understand a pattern in myself and I'm curious if anyone relates.

For most of my life, I've struggled with commitment in a way that goes way beyond relationships.

I want connection, love, stability, meaningful work, all of those things. But whenever something starts becoming permanent or predictable, something in me starts freaking out.

In dating, I can genuinely like someone and enjoy being close to them. But as soon as there's real emotional intimacy, I often feel this intense urge to escape.

In jobs, it's even worse.
I usually start out motivated and excited. But after a while, once I've learned the routines and know what my days are going to look like, I start feeling trapped and depressed.

It's not that the jobs are necessarily bad.
It's more that I suddenly start thinking:
"This can't be it."

"Surely there's something more meaningful I should be doing."

"Am I really going to spend my life doing the same things every day?"

And then I start feeling like I'm wasting my life and not making any real difference in the world.

The strange thing is that I don't think I'm lazy or afraid of hard work. I actually have a lot of drive and I'm constantly working on projects, learning new things, and trying to grow.

It's specifically routine, permanence, and the feeling of being locked into something that seem to trigger me.

I recently dated someone and he eventually told me that he never knew where he stood with me.
Honestly, I don't think I knew either.

I noticed myself doing confusing things like suggesting we could date other people, even though I didn't actually want that. Looking back, I think I was trying to create an escape route because getting closer felt overwhelming.

The whole thing left me wondering:
Does this sound familiar to anyone with CPTSD, fearful-avoidant attachment, or trauma?

Has anyone else felt this connection between relationships, jobs, routine, and the fear of being trapped?

And if you've experienced something similar, what was actually underneath it?

I'd really love to hear other people's experiences.

I (26F) dated someone for a short but intense period. We talked almost every day, had deep conversations, emotional connection, and eventually slept together.

One moment really threw me off: I started crying in front of him because I was emotionally overwhelmed. He got very distant and awkward, like he didn’t know how to handle it at all.

We still ended up spending the night together and were intimate, but emotionally it felt completely disconnected and strange.

The next day I told him I wished he had been there for me in that moment.
After that, his entire energy shifted. He suddenly told me he doesn’t find me attractive anymore / doesn’t feel consistent attraction and that “something essential is missing.” He became very cold and distant from then on.

What confuses me is that before this, things didn’t feel like that at all even though he was never super expressive about my looks, just occasional compliments on things like my eyes or lips.

Now I keep wondering:
Did I lose his attraction in that moment because I was emotional?

Or was it never really there and just masked by the connection?

I genuinely can’t tell if this is about looks, emotional dynamics, or something else entirely.

I feel so undesirable right now even when I get compliments from strangers on daily basis. :(