My Emotional Wall Had Grown Too Damn High
For real, I was that person who’d say “I’m fine” through clenched teeth while feeling completely wrecked inside. Couldn’t talk about feelings without wanting to crawl under a rock. Figured books might help – safer than spilling guts to actual humans. Grabbed whatever looked vaguely touchy-feely from my pile.
Started With Some Heavy Books…Yikes
Saw “The Body Keeps the Score” on my shelf. Opened it. Got smacked with intense trauma science immediately. Closed it within ten minutes. My brain just noped out. Didn’t blame the book. Blamed my fragile, walled-up state. Next I tried “Attached”. Smart stuff about relationship patterns. But reading about anxious or avoidant attachment styles just made me go “Oh crap, that’s me” and feel worse. Didn’t stick around.
Stumbled Upon My Game Changer
Was about to give up. Then noticed Brené Brown’s “The Gifts of Imperfection” half-buried under coffee receipts. Figured, why not? Started slow. Read like… five pages a day. Her writing? Down-to-earth. Messy. Full of stories, not just theories. She talked about vulnerability like it wasn’t some terrifying monster, just… necessary. Like opening windows in a stuffy room. Her voice felt like talking to an honest friend who’d been there.
- Realized: Building walls takes freaking energy. Constant work.
- Realized: Shame shrivels only when you drag it into light. Hiding feeds it.
- Realized: “Armored” looks strong but feels lonely. Vulnerability feels scary but brings connection.
Actually Put That Book Down & Tried Stuff
Here’s where it got real. Brené didn’t just preach; she gave tiny assignments.
- Started journaling: Ugly penmanship, raw sentences. No filters. Just dumped the swirling mess in my head onto paper. Sometimes it looked like someone vomited feelings all over the pages. Did it feel dumb? Absolutely. But slowly, those chaotic feelings stopped feeling so dangerous inside.
- Practiced one tiny honest moment per day: Like actually telling my partner “This week sucked” instead of “Fine.” Or telling a friend “I miss you” instead of pretending I didn’t care.
Where I’m At Now
Am I suddenly some open book? Hell no. Old habits die hard. But I can actually feel the difference. That crushing weight of holding everything in? It’s lighter. Those walls aren’t gone, but I can lower the damn drawbridge sometimes now. Saw another Brené book, “Braving the Wilderness”, jumped at it. Less terrified this time. Still hard work, page by page, uncomfortable truth by uncomfortable truth. But it’s working. Slowly.
If your heart feels locked up tight? Forget the super intense clinical stuff first. Try “Imperfection”. Breathe. Read a bit. Put it down. Do one small stupidly brave thing. Rinse. Repeat. It ain’t magic, just… gentle, persistent chipping away at the concrete.
