Echoes of an Old Cry

Just when I think my healing is complete, I watch myself do it again—the over-explaining, the pushing, the reaching out too soon after I’ve already spoken my truth. I tell myself I’m just being honest, that I’m clarifying how I feel. But underneath it all is that old, familiar ache: a desperate cry to be acknowledged, heard, and seen. A silent plea of, "Please, don't abandon me."

It’s self-sabotage, disguised as transparency.

And it’s taken me years to see that this pattern isn’t the enemy. It’s the echo of the girl I once was, still trying to feel safe, accepted, and loved.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that love had to be earned—through effort, through caretaking, through explaining myself until I was understood. I became fluent in the language of trying.

So now, when someone pulls back—for whatever reason—my nervous system panics. I spiral into a seething pool of self-doubt. I flail, trying to save myself and the connection. I write one more message, offer one more reassurance, anything to hold it together. These aren't acts of manipulation, but a desperate reaching for emotional safety. They are my attempt to quell the uncertainty and silence the voice that whispers, "You are not enough."

And in that moment, the real damage is done. I feel I've proven myself unstable and unworthy, not to them, but to me. Because in my frantic effort to secure their favor, I abandoned myself.

That is what self-sabotage truly is: the moment we trade our own peace for the hope of another's approval.

I know this in my heart, but my nervous system is still learning: it all begins within.

Real connections don't need to be managed. They breathe on their own. I am learning that if I want acceptance from others, I must first offer it to myself. I am learning that I don't need to rush in and rescue every pause with an explanation. And I am learning that being "too much" was never the problem—the problem was giving my all without a foundation of my own safety.

So how do I move forward?

I write this post—an honest post-mortem of my feelings, my reactions, and the events. I witness my own actions with honesty and love. I ask for forgiveness from myself and from others. I accept the outcome, whatever it may be.

And I accept that I am not perfect. But I am perfectly, and forever, learning to be me.