Posts

Showing posts with the label the-pain-that-is-not-physical

The myth of being yourself--- the identity we create vs. the one we live

-
Image
The Myth of “Being Yourself”: The Identity We Create vs. the One We Live      “Just be yourself.” It’s one of the most comforting lies we’re told. Not because it’s cruel—but because it assumes there is a single, stable “self” waiting patiently inside us, fully formed, untouched by fear, survival, or expectation. As if identity is something you discover, not something you negotiate with every single day. But what if “being yourself” is not a destination? What if it’s a contradiction? The Self We Create From the moment we become aware of being watched, we begin to edit. Psychology tells us this is normal. The human brain is wired for belonging. We learn quickly which versions of us are rewarded and which are quietly rejected. Smiles earn approval. Silence avoids conflict. Confidence hides insecurity. Over time, these adjustments harden into personality. Carl Jung called this the persona —the mask we wear to function in society. Not a lie, exactly, but not the whole tr...
Post a Comment
Read more

"How Do You Explain a Pain That Isn’t Physical?"

-
Image
  How Do You Explain a Pain That Isn’t Physical? Some pain doesn’t leave bruises. It doesn’t break bones or tear skin. There’s no visible scar, no blood, no swelling. And yet, it’s there — sharp, unrelenting, relentless. It lives inside you, in places no one can see. In your chest, in your throat, in the hollow spaces behind your eyes. It lingers in thoughts, in memories, in silences. And the most frustrating part? Explaining it feels impossible. The Burden of the Invisible When people see someone hurt physically, they understand instinctively. They see the bandage, the cast, the limp, and they know: something happened. They respond with sympathy, concern, care. But emotional pain? Mental pain? That’s different. Because it doesn’t show. And when it doesn’t show, it doesn’t seem real to others. I have sat in rooms full of people, smiling, talking, participating — and yet, inside, I am screaming. The ache is real. The exhaustion is real. The emptiness is real. And no one knows it unl...
Post a Comment
Read more