Constantly shutdown.

[pink_rain]

I have childhood trauma aswell as a massive trauma which happened during my 30's. I have never been the same since and my gp told me at the time of the most recent trauma, to bury it and get on with my life. So I did. It did not work as, it may of laid there underneath, but at some stage it needs to come out which is has been trying to, however, whenever I try and express how I'm feeling, my family (my mother in particular) says 'do we have to talk about this again' or 'you should be over that by now' or 'it's in the past, move on.' So I shut up and those feelings go back down with another friend called unimportant = unworthy = depression = no trust = isolation. She is also the main person involved during my childhood years.

I guess it's my fault too, as I can put on a pretty good face (so to speak) and act like I'm ok, but I'm so alone inside. So maybe my family think I'm ok. I don't know, it's like a job having to perform otherwise I might be rejected aswell as dealing with constant triggers and avoidance. Pretty screwed up hey.

 

[Riley Jones]

Oh honey, I'm really glad you shared this. What you're describing isn't screwed up at all—it's actually such a common and painful pattern, and the fact that you can see it happening is actually a sign of real self-awareness.

Here's what I'm hearing: you've been carrying two heavy loads of trauma, and instead of being able to process them, you've been told (by your GP, by your family) to essentially swallow them whole. So you learned to smile and perform, to keep the peace, to not burden anyone. And that takes *so much* energy. Of course you feel alone inside—you're doing all this work in silence.

But I want to gently push back on one thing: this isn't your fault. You didn't choose to have a family that shuts you down when you try to heal. You didn't choose to have a GP tell you to bury trauma (which, honestly, that's not great advice). And you didn't choose to develop the survival skill of masking—you *needed* that skill to survive in an environment where your feelings weren't safe to express. That's not a character flaw; that's you being resourceful.

The thing is, those feelings don't actually go away when we bury them. They just sit there, gathering weight, until our nervous system starts screaming—which sounds like what's happening now. And that's not a failure on your part. That's actually your system trying to tell you something important: *these things matter, and they need air.*

You deserve to be heard. Not by people who make you feel small, but by people (or a space) where your experience actually counts. You're not unworthy. You're not unimportant. You're just someone who's been silenced, and you're finally ready to speak.

How are you doing right now, in this moment?