The Defence Mechanisms I Still Use

Self‑Mothering Playlist →

I’ve done a lot of work.
But I’m still human.
And that means I still defend myself — sometimes without realising it.

Not with fists or walls.
But with subtle habits.
The kind that show up when I feel vulnerable, exposed, or just a little too seen.

Here are a few of my go-tos:

• Advising.
  When someone shares something difficult, I jump in with solutions. Not because I think I know better — but because I’m uncomfortable with their pain. It’s easier to fix than to feel.

• Derailing with humour.
  Humour has always been my shield. It lightens the moment, but sometimes it lifts me right out of my body. Right out of connection.

• Filtering.
  I only share parts of the truth — the parts that feel safe, polished, acceptable. But the full truth? That’s where the real healing lives.

• Identifying.
  Instead of just listening, I turn the moment into my own story. “That happened to me too…” — It’s not ill-intentioned, but it often disconnects me from the other person.

• Judging.
  It’s a fast way to feel safe: if I can put someone else in a box, I don’t have to feel my own discomfort. But judgment is a veil over curiosity.

• Mind-reading.
  I assume I know what others are thinking — usually something critical. It’s exhausting. And it usually says more about my own inner critic than theirs.

I’m not ashamed of these.
They were tools I developed to survive.
To navigate a world that didn’t always feel safe.

But now?
Now I want more.
Real intimacy. Real presence. Real me.

And that means noticing when these defences show up — and choosing, slowly, to lower them.

Not all at once.
Not perfectly.
But intentionally.

Because that’s how I learn to stay open — even when it’s hard.
That’s how I come home to myself.