I’ve been thinking about how I’ve shown up in relationships —
Not just romantic ones, but friendships, neighbours, classmates, even passing strangers.

And what I’ve come to realise is:

I’ve kept my distance.
Not because I don’t care.
But because I care too much — and somewhere deep down, I believed I was too wounded to be close.

🧠 How the Wound Shows Up

When your childhood teaches you that love is confusing, conditional, or absent —
you start seeing the world through that same lens.

A cold look becomes rejection.
A silence becomes abandonment.
A kind gesture becomes suspicious.

You begin projecting what happened then onto who’s in front of you now.

I think I’ve been doing that my whole life.
Not maliciously — just unconsciously.
And when I caught glimpses of that, I felt so ashamed, I withdrew even more.

😔 The Narrative I Carried

I told myself:

  • “I can’t trust my reactions.”
  • “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
  • “Better to stay away than let the shame creep in again.”

So I isolated.
From friendships.
From community.
From love.

And I wore that distance like armor.

But the truth is:

I wasn’t dangerous.
I was just afraid — and completely unprepared for closeness that didn’t come with fear attached.

🪞 Where It All Comes From

When your mother never loved you in a way that felt safe…
When your father kept love at a distance, or buried it in silence…
You grow up believing that your presence is a threat —
Or that others can’t be trusted to hold you.

So you perform.
Withdraw.
Or shut down completely.

And then you blame yourself for not being better at connection.

🩹 The Grief Beneath the Shame

I look back and I see moments where I hurt people without meaning to.
Times I disappeared.
Times I clung on.
Times I froze.

I can’t undo any of that.
But I can forgive the boy inside me who was doing the only thing he knew:

Protecting himself from pain — and protecting others from what he feared was his own brokenness.

It wasn’t brokenness.
It was grief, confusion, survival.

💬 Why I’ve Kept My Distance

I thought I was protecting them.
Maybe I was just trying to survive.
Maybe this is what happens when your earliest love leaves you questioning your own worth.

But I want to stop abandoning myself now.
Even in moments of shame.
Even when the old stories return.

I don’t need to be perfect to be present.

And maybe, just maybe —
Closeness can still be safe.

But only if I let go of the lie that distance is the only way to do no harm.