The weight of being intense!

Hi friends, it’s been a month since I last updated my dear blog,
but here I am finally!

I’m continuing therapy and I’ve been dealing with many topics. I’m working a lot on myself, but the more I dig deep, the more a flood of uncontrollable and destabilizing emotions comes out.

I know it sounds awful to say, but that’s exactly the point. Have you ever hurt yourself and a scab forms over the wound? It looks like everything is closed, like it’s healing. But underneath, sometimes there’s an infected wound, with thick yellow pus full of infection.
And before that wound can truly heal, you have to disinfect it, you have to clean it, you have to let everything out, even if it hurts, even if it’s disgusting. Otherwise it stays there underneath and sooner or later it comes back, often even worse than before.

I’m doing exactly this: I’m “cleaning”, I’m letting out everything that has stayed buried for years, all that emotional pus I never really looked at, in the hope that this time it won’t get infected again and won’t come back.

It’s a process that takes time, especially for someone like me who is never patient…

Getting back to us, today I want to talk about how hard it is to live with the thought of never truly being understood.

I believe that since I was born, no one has ever truly understood me completely. After all, when no one has ever listened to you even while you were screaming at the top of your lungs, what else are you supposed to think?

I have always been invisible even to myself. I always had to be there for others, always listen, always be the “mature one” who understands everything quickly. And when it was finally my turn to talk about my feelings? It would turn into an argument.

That’s why I learned to shut everything down, just like the plaster you put into walls when you see a small hole, a crack… without even asking yourself why that wall keeps crumbling.

I have never really learned how to express my feelings. In fact, whenever I try to, it often turns into conflict-like dynamics. As my therapist says, I don’t yet have a “correct” way of expressing myself:
I am often unfiltered and driven by fear.

I still really struggle to open up to someone and think that they will then stay in my life.
Because for me, opening up means bonding. It means putting a part of myself into someone else’s hands, and the moment I do that, a silent fear of losing everything is born.

And so I remain in between: between the deep need to be understood and the fear of not being stable enough to be accepted without the other person pulling away.
It’s as if there is always a half-open door inside me: I want to open it completely, but at the same time
I keep my hand there, ready to close it at the first sign of danger.
And maybe this is exactly what I am working on in therapy right now: learning that opening up should not automatically mean losing someone or feeling weak.

I know I am not an easy person and I know I cannot live everything lightly, even if I would very much wish to.
I know that everything inside me carries a different weight, that I feel everything more intensely and more deeply, and that this sometimes makes me hard to understand. But I am learning that I don’t have to become “lighter” at all costs, I just need to stop feeling wrong for the way I feel.

I have been suppressing these feelings for three years, and I have to say I’ve become very good at it. But what happens when you can’t do it anymore, because you are falling in love?

When you start feeling safe enough to lower your defenses, everything you have kept locked away for years starts coming out all at once. And it’s not always orderly, not always neat, not always “right.”
And you find yourself there, between the desire to keep opening up and the fear of being too much, of being difficult, of being “too intense” for someone who may have never truly seen or lived that side of you.

But maybe this is exactly the point: it’s not that you become too much. It’s that you stop holding yourself back.

And when you stop holding yourself back, everything you’ve kept inside for years doesn’t come out slowly. It all comes out at once. Without order, without filters, without the “right” way to say it.

And that scares me.

Because part of me would finally like to live like this, without holding everything back. But another part is always on alert, as if every strong emotion could be too much for the person in front of me, as if I might eventually exhaust someone just for being like this.

And so I find myself oscillating between two extremes: the desire to open up completely and the fear of being excessive exactly when I am most real.

And maybe the truth is that I’m not trying to become someone else. I’m just trying to find a way to stay inside all of this without feeling wrong.
I am learning that I don’t have to choose between feeling too much or feeling nothing at all.
I just need to learn to stay present while I feel, without running away, without shutting down, without apologizing for every emotion that comes.

And if this means being “too much” for someone, for me it is not… it’s just my way of experiencing life, and I no longer want to apologize neither to others nor to myself for being different: I just want to learn to accept it and live with it.
For the first time, I am not trying to shut myself off. I am trying to feel myself.

How many times have you thought you were “too much”?

The blonde unfiltered