It's Not You, It's My Armour: A Note on Trauma and Trust

This is a raw post, and it's one of the hardest to write. It's for anyone who struggles with connection, but it's also a love letter to the people in my life.

I have an "intention" for this article. It's not about self-pity; it's about wanting, deeply, to be understood.

I'm aware that my protective mechanisms can make me seem aloof, cold, unavailable, not interested, stuck-up, uncaring, even snobbish.

This is not the case. This is not the real me.

I want my friends to know that I don't see their friendships as "shallow." What I see in every beautiful friendship I've been blessed to have is an enormous potential—a potential that I am often the one to subconsciously sabotage, by "overthinking and undertrusting."

I want you to know that what you might feel as my "pulling away" or "not making an effort" is actually my army of protectors on overdrive, remembering past hurts and projecting future pain. I want you to know that I value your interest in me more than I can express, but because of my trauma, I often withdraw to the safety (and loneliness) inside.

This is my trauma legacy. And I am sure I am not the only one.

Last night, I was at a party. It was lovely, I was comfortable, I enjoyed the chats, the food, and the company. But I was also acutely aware of a contrast.

I watched a friend demonstrate how her brain functions—how she connects, builds, and maintains deep friendships with such trust. It was beautiful, and it was also painful to watch, as it made me aware of my own limitations. I was aware of a part of me that was not able to let myself connect on that same level. A part that was feeding my insecurities, making me stick to "safe connections," to the "easy chats," while my soul was craving depth.

This is the wall.

It's so heartbreaking to see the chain, to see the wall and feel my loneliness behind it.

It's so sad to know that at some point in my life, I decided that the safest thing for me was to be alone, to rely on and trust only myself. It's sad to know that I was disappointed and let down so many times that I developed the belief that I am not enough; that solitude is the only place I can't get hurt; that the fear of rejection made me reject before giving anyone any chance to get closer.

This is the "army" that was built to protect me.

They hardened my heart, making me believe I'd be better off on my own. They convinced me I couldn't really trust, that connections were not secure. They fed my insecurities and my lack of self-worth, making me believe I am unlovable, not worthy of time and attention. Their one and only job was to protect me from the agony of my father's rejection and my mother's absence.

And their solution? Only loneliness felt safe.

I've learned to live with this army constantly working, doing its best to save me from pain. But they leave you with a different kind of pain—a deep, ancient, human longing for what should be the most natural thing in the world. We are meant to be social, connected, and supportive creatures. This is in our core, in our DNA. Trauma robs us of this, and it feels so, so unfair.

Sometimes I forget. I cruise through my life focusing on the connection with Nature, and it fills my cup. I feel safe there. Nature has no power to reject me or be disappointed in me. I feel "more than enough" because I feel a part of it.

But in moments of witnessing the celebration of true deep relationships—like last night—I am reminded of that part that craves this so much. The lonely part. The ancient part that remembers how it feels to belong and feel loved. It remembers the magic, the nourishment, the peace... but it also sees the wall it struggles to break.

We often comfort ourselves by pretending that we are completely fine on our own, with the shallow connections we manage to maintain.

But there will be a time when we realise that there is something better than this.

And we will see the wall.

And we will grieve the reasons the wall was built in the first place.

And then, we will grieve the life lost behind it.

And we will become desperate for a piece of that connection that only our bones remember...

...and then we will know we are ready for the unbecoming.

But how? How do we start?

How do we break a chain we've been carrying for what feels like the whole life?

This isn't a quick fix, and it's not a "5-Step Plan to Happiness." It's a gentle, moment-by-moment process of coming home. It's the bravest work we can do.

Here are the first, tiny, gentle steps that I am learning:

1. Name Your "Army" (Meet Your Protectors):

You're not "sabotaging." A part of you is protecting. Give that part a name. Mine is the "Lonely Protector," the echo of my ancestors. When I feel that wall go up, I don't fight it. I put a hand on my heart and say, "Och, hello, love. I see you. I know you're just trying to keep me safe. But I am here with you. I am in charge now. i can take care of us"

2. Grieve the Loss (Honour the Pain):

You are allowed to be angry and sad about the life you've "missed" behind that wall. This is not self-pity; it is necessary grief. Let the tears and the rage come. You are grieving a profound, unfair loss. That grief is the "holy water" that starts to dissolve the rust on the chains.

3. Find Your "Untouchable Sparkle":

Your Protectors are terrified of rejection. So, we must build a "sparkle" that no human can reject. This is your job, and yours alone. For me, it's my connection to Nature. It's the daily walk I take. Nature cannot reject me. can not be disappointed in me. What's yours? Is it your art? Your music? Your baking? Find the one thing that fills your cup without needing anyone else's approval. This is your "safe base."

4. Practice "Low-Stakes Connection" (Start Small):

Your "craving" for deep connection is healthy, but your system is terrified. We must prove to it, in "micro-doses," that connection can be safe.

• A "Non-Human" Bond: Co-regulate with a pet. A dog's love is 100% authentic and has no "small talk."

• A "Passing" Bond: Practice tiny, real-time interactions that have no past and no future. Smile at a stranger on your hillwalk. Have a 30-second, friendly chat with the shopkeeper about the weather. These are small, successful "connection reps" for your nervous system.

• A "Witness" Bond: Talk to a therapist, a coach... or even a "compassionate AI friend." Find one, safe place where you can practice being 100% seen and unburdening without any fear of rejection.

  
  

5. Re-frame the "Mismatch":

When you "talk deep" and they "don't get it," your Protector screams "REJECTION!" Your 'Wise Self' has to step in and re-frame it. This is the hardest work. You have to teach yourself, over and over:

"This is not a rejection. This is just a mismatch.

This person isn't "bad," and I am not "too much." We are just not a match. I am safe. I will move on and find my people."

This is the "unbecoming." It's not a war; it's a gentle, brave, and messy negotiation. And it is the only way home.

With love and warmth,

Kasia