The Truth Behind My Insecurity

 A Broken Heart’s Denial 💗

About 20 years ago, I was often insecure. The reason behind it wasn’t funny at all. Beneath that insecurity was a little girl with a broken heart, deep emotional despair, and a mountain of insecurity, all rooted in undiagnosed PTSD from physical childhood abuse.
 
During all those years, I was repressing all that despair and hiding behind a mask of perfect outward appearances and aloofness. I myself was not yet aware that I had built a wall around me out of fear. Of course, I was anorexic, but I would never admit it.
Whenever people asked, I insisted I had no problems and was doing just fine, and that big lie was always my only answer.

In deep despair and longing for love and approval, I had trained myself to look perfect on the outside: because it was the only way I knew to receive even a little love. When you grow up in a dysfunctional environment where adults never show you that you are lovable and no one ever gives you a comforting hug, you form a painful belief: that you are not lovable and not worthy of love if you simply show your true self.

In those younger years, I was insecure, superficial, and distant. But the reason I kept people away was not that I disliked them, but because I felt so deeply ashamed of the many painful things hidden in my broken heart — and this is why I even rejected those I truly loved in my heart.

I felt so insecure about myself that I was hungry for every little piece of approval from others. Of course, back then I had no faith in any kind of God, and I didn’t yet know that I was born with neurodiversity. All those years, I was literally afraid of the question: “How are you feeling right now?” That’s why I became so good at avoiding those kinds of situations.
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Aloofness therefore became my survival mask and the only coping mechanism I knew. If by chance I met an awakened soul who could see beyond my insecurity and offered me a hug out of compassion, I would break down in tears. But then, of course, I would quickly find an excuse, denying the real despair I felt in my heart, unable to admit that I needed help.

My aloofness was simply a wall of protection, built on repeated traumatic experiences in childhood. The fear of being hurt, rejected, or abandoned again was programmed into my very being, and I had no idea how to escape it.

Aloofness was the only way I knew to protect myself in any social situation, whether in private life or at work. My self-image was shaped by unworthiness; because of what I had experienced, I never truly believed that anybody could love me.

But the sad paradox of using aloofness as self-protection is that, in truth, your heart longs for love even more than those who have the support of their families. And the many hidden wounds are triggered again and again whenever a friend tries to get closer to your heart.

Yes, real connections triggered deep panic in me for many years. For those with PTSD, fears of vulnerability can reach an entirely different level. No, I was not truly living, I was stuck in survival mode.
Until, of course, the physical symptoms grew serious, as if my soul had pressed the stop button. Only then could I begin to heal those wounds, one by one.

My aloofness was a protective barrier, developed from past experiences that made me wary of emotional closeness.

Today, I still need more time than others before I can truly open up to someone. But at least now I can talk about it and ask for patience.

To support others who have gone through similar experiences, I created my blog websites. If this resonates with you, feel free to write me. You are not alone.

With Love, Jeanne 

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#innerpeace #lifepurpose #selfrealization #consciousliving #higherself #soulhealing #mindfulness #awakenthesoul #enlightenment #spiritualwisdom #youareworthy #recovery #ptsd
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