Being misunderstood was always one of my biggest triggers. It started when I was a kid. People around me would tell me things I did. They would tell me what I meant through my actions.
I remember feeling so confused… in my little kiddie mind just being like, ‘Wait, but that isn’t what I meant.’ And it was always something that got me in trouble. Getting in trouble for something that never felt true, never felt like me, in the first place.
The same thing would happen in a lot of my close relationships. I had one relationship in particular where I would say exactly what I meant, as plain and direct as I could come up with, and they would say things like, ‘no that doesn’t make sense’ or ‘no that’s not possible’ and tell me what I meant instead. It was like getting whiplash every time. Very twilight zoney. I was screaming inside, questioning reality, wondering why they didn’t get it and if I was okay.
Being misunderstood came to be the single scariest thing I could imagine. So I carefully curated my words. I did so much research. I took so many trainings. I did constant self-reflection. Constant “work” on myself. Tried as hard as I could to give myself more credible backing, more knowledge, more experience, more accountability… so I could be heard in the way I thought would make me feel safe.
Spoiler – it still didn’t work.
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