As an avid yapper, this title is quite contradictory, but give me a chance to explain myself.
I’ve always identified as an extrovert and a talkative individual. However, I rarely divulge my true feelings and struggles when needed. It’s hard to explain how I can enjoy conversation and speak with my inner circle, but never want anyone to know what’s truly going on in my life.
In a way, I believe I like to talk a lot to give off the facade that everything is smooth sailing and to not let anyone see beyond the information that I feed them. Maybe to make myself seem more interesting than I am, to have control of the conversation and where it goes. To control the questions asked.
I’ve always been the last to share my feelings, and how I’m doing usually takes quite a bit of prying to get there. There’s this weird belief that only I will be able to understand what I’m going through — that admitting it out loud is humiliating, and I’d rather convince myself that my problems are small, unimportant, and minuscule.
Most often, when I share my true thoughts and struggles, it’s at its breaking point, when everything is crumbling and no longer can be fixed. Or it’s in anger, lashing out, unable to process how I let myself get to this point.
I recognize these habits because of my tumultuous relationship with my parents. Oftentimes growing up, when I shared my problems, I was faced with anger at how I’d gotten myself in these situations. A diminishment of my problems, followed by a lecture on their own struggles or disappointment in the moment, and later on in a fight or argument, is used against me in retaliation.
I’ve never been able to have that open and honest relationship with my parents to this day. I catch myself envying those around me who can rely on their parents to seek advice and support when times get tough.
I have this cemented belief that everyone around me is judging me and how I’ve let myself go — that everyone can see right through me, who I really am: a self-loathing individual with zero confidence.
I hate crying in front of people — I mean, who does — but I can’t stand letting people see how much something truly has affected me and how messy my life really is. I guess I don’t want anyone to piece together that I’m who I portray myself to be.
I’ve been trying to be more open and less avoidant with my close friends, but continue to struggle to express myself. I gloss over my problems with humorous comments and never express the true effects it has on me. I guess saying things out loud is another problem, making them real in a way.
However, this year, a serious goal of mine is to address my problems more openly, relying on those around me before I let things get too far. I suggest to anyone who can relate to this article to do so too, that reaching out for help is never the wrong choice in any situation.