The Cost of Erasing Yourself Out of Guilt and Fear
I’m in the process of healing and figuring out how to stand boldly and not take abusive behavior from anyone.
2025 has been a year of tumultuous change, but the end of 2025 is far better than I’d hoped. I’m very content with how far I’ve come along rather quickly, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
If it seems like I’m sad on here, it’s because there was so much emotional damage inflicted on me by someone who policed my happiness, and I had to hide parts of myself to appease them. I still write sad things to make sense of why it happened and what weaknesses I had that others took advantage of—but I never want to be in that dreadful position again.
2024 seemed to be a stagnant year on the surface, but I was gradually becoming more independent, tougher, and stronger.
Someone felt resentful of this and their demands of me were not in line with what I actually wanted. But I felt like I couldn’t say “no” because of guilt. Yet I constantly felt severe anxiety and dread, but I brushed that aside. They made me feel guilty for having boundaries.
I felt like an emotional hostage.
I didn’t notice how much I’d contorted myself until I realized I was censoring my own contentment. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to share joy in mundane things or express that my dreams have become different—misaligned with what they wanted for me.
I was afraid that if I said I was actually alright in spite of not having the life they wanted for me, I’d be accused of lacking ambition and being stupid. Of depriving myself. Of settling for less.
They projected their limitations on me and constantly said what I’m not supposed to do. Really to become less of myself and more of them because my rugged individualist nature (that exists on a plane outside of rigid and superficial hierarchies) was threatening to their ego. I was constantly on edge and felt like I had to pay a tax to avoid being screamed at. Still, it was never enough. I was depleted not by my job but by this volatile dynamic that took so much from me and made me feel unsafe. I felt like I had to de-escalate like a security guard if I wasn’t appeasing them enough.
The part of me that was truly myself was never as controllable as the placating version they forced me to become. They probably were terrified that my freedom in pursuing success as I saw fit would dismantle their limiting beliefs and prove them incorrect. I had to hide things that displeased them. Emotional coercion is truly a vulgar thing (and a sign of fragile intelligence), and my meekness made me the perfect target for it.
I don’t need as much to be happy. And I was tired of being dragged down into a pit where I had to censor myself all the time. I was tired of being used as a compliant prop that they sometimes nitpicked and scolded. I could not stand their contempt and lack of respect for others’ autonomy (there was always something to nitpick and every decision others made independently had to be framed as a grievance and a reason why they deserved to be crushed), but again, I felt guilty for existing as I am, so I suffered through it. I had to brace myself for, “Don’t you see I’m very angry?” at any moment—my nervous system was on the verge of a breakdown.
Sometimes my timid language and very meek tone weren’t even enough to prevent them from lashing out. I really tried to be as placating as possible, not out of love but out of terror.
Happiness became something I had to defend. And constant policing made me speak defensively. They were so miserable and saw my tiny joys (and personal sovereignty in choosing what brought me joy instead of conforming to their snobby disdain) as threatening, which explained why they feared being alone in their misery. Anybody who disagreed with them was “brain dead.”
I wasn’t the one screaming when someone thought differently. In fact, I had to go to extreme lengths to filter, filter, and filter some more or else I’d be the subject of their anger. It goes to show how unbalanced this was. I tolerated the worst, yet they could not handle me when I was tepidly attempting to be assertive. This resulted in them interrogating me, and I felt that if I pushed just a tiny bit, they’d scream and accuse me of being selfish. Um, excuse me, but blowing up like that is being selfish and toxic.
I wasn’t allowed to be myself—I was just shaped into a tool used to increase their social capital, so they could attract “better people” eventually. I was just the stupid and un-elite hillbilly introvert they had to settle for.
Any independent thought or choice I had made them frantic, and they had to admonish me.
Any lack of compatibility (and differences in personal preferences) was framed as a reason why I needed to be called selfish and cruel. If I failed to be the prop they wanted, they most likely would have accused me of abandonment. Being stuck in a trauma bond was threatening my stability, yet they did not want me to be stable because that would mean I couldn’t be dominated.
Forcing people to operate in emotional survival mode was coercion—yet all they could see was that the people who refused to be dominated were the cruel ones for abandoning them. They escalated their interrogations and scolding when they sensed I was being withdrawn (I was trying to save myself from them even if it felt futile).
This was why I felt dread and avoided them more as time went on, but I still had to pay the hefty tax.
“Let’s hope they don’t scold me today, I have to say something that feeds their ego or else they would viciously lash out…” was constantly on loop in my head. They were a landmine I had to survive. Yet somehow everybody else was stupid and selfish for not enduring it. Everyone else was cruel. I didn’t want them to call me cruel, too.
Their reaction, though? “I’m dissatisfied with how little time you spent on my ego. You’re selfish!” Now it wasn’t a direct accusation, but I felt it in their tone.
They’d use the words cruel, abandonment, and selfishness if I couldn’t afford to partake in social activities with them. They were impatient and not understanding at all of my constraints and blamed me for not paying enough or sacrificing my livelihood to satisfy their ego. Perhaps they felt threatened by my autonomy and eccentric hermit-like ways.
Somehow me focusing on real life responsibilities just to stay alive was “selfish.” I was forced to atone for everybody else’s abandonment of them. That expectation was impossible unless I killed my true self for their comfort. They claimed to support individuality, yet I sensed that they would wish for my demise if I pursued individuality my own way without their input.
Why was I the selfish villain when I was the one who endured their screaming and accusations and didn’t try to fight back (again, how am I selfish for not fighting back and just letting them do that)? You see, I was extremely meek. How was I still the cruel one?
They could not handle my timid or gentle way of saying something different, yet me absorbing their blows, their volatility, and their toxicity (while tepidly pushing back rarely) somehow made me the selfish one and not them?
Why was I the cold and callous one if they made it very uncomfortable for me to assert myself and I was continually forced to resort to self-preservation?
Avoidance was not coldness but self-preservation from their interrogations and scolding.
I was not allowed to be my own individual because that was “wrong.” They were always correct. It’s always my fault if they blew up.
I was so hurt by the insinuation that I “didn’t know myself deeply” or that “something was wrong with my brain” just because I’ve made no effort to evolve into the most prestigious or elite version of myself (which I have no desire for anyway). And that I arrived at different conclusions than she did—any deviation was labeled as stupid.
Like any sense of worth apart from hierarchies and status was not valid to them. Or was seen as “shallower” and “less smart.” Which is ridiculous because someone who needs external validation and a big ego to function at all in the world is shallower than someone who has internal agency and works the best they can no matter what. And they had the nerve to call me the stagnant one just because I’m not an extrovert and I despise overstimulation, and I was content living as an eccentric hermit with an ordinary but peaceful middle-class life.
I learned to hide my joy. Not because I was ashamed, but because someone in my life interpreted my peace and contentment as not trying hard enough.
I started minimizing my happiness to placate them and protect myself.
They did not want me to be happy on my own terms. I knew they would want me destroyed if I stepped out of my role as a compliant subordinate with unwavering devotion to them.
I’m sorry but I cannot put up with people who think I deserve to be destroyed because I want to avoid them scolding me, to choose happiness for myself, and to seek depth apart from their status-obsessed views.
If I dared to protect myself from their screaming, then they would insist that I was the one who needed punishment and pain.
I watched their reaction to people who were similar to me (but were not as afraid to show it). I was disturbed and put in great distress, furthering my decision to step away.
And it struck a nerve when they falsely predicted that I’d die much sooner than somebody who was physically weaker, less resilient, and nowhere near as mentally tough as I am. They would not last a day in my shoes.
They were so fixated upon the idea that I’d die earlier than them, and they needed to fabricate that tragic lie so that they could be the hero who rescued me from my own stupidity.
But I later figured out that it was just a manipulative escalation tactic because I was slowly becoming less controllable, and that made them frantic. It wasn’t even about health, it was about trying to control me and attack my resilient nature, making it seem low-status.
I’m the one who can walk for 10 miles a day and rely on mental toughness to push through situations like my life depended on it—and come out on the other side appreciative of it—with my childlike sense of wonder and great spirit intact (but even stronger with more weight to ground them). That’s depth right there. Depth is not policing other people, meddling, terrifying them, or molding them into subordinates without a voice.
In what world am I the one who’s going to die before an objectively weaker person with way less stamina and psychological toughness? It’s such an illogical claim.
I’m the one who is less mentally fragile because I can function independently and still live my life without tying my worth to arbitrary rules of hierarchies. Rugged individualism is something I’ve grown to admire, and there’s something freeing about making up your mind to do something without waiting for approval and not letting others impose their externally-based rules on you. It’s a trap that I am choosing to walk out of or else I’d die inside. It’s the only way to save myself.
My mother warned me that I was being killed figuratively, and she was right about it all along.
I’m not allowing anybody to police the ability to save my own life. Or to scream at me for being uncaring if I am merely acting out of self-preservation and not letting their guilt-tripping dictate the rest of my life.
Because I’ve had enough of the misery that comes with being controlled.
Now what I’m focusing on is planting roots, asserting necessary boundaries so I don’t ever get dragged down like that again, and not letting others stand in the way.
I do not want to become a prop for someone’s opportunistic ways.
I do not want to keep being punished for choosing a simpler way of living that’s free from the burden of trying to please people who never feel like I’m enough.
I also never want this person to have that much power over me again. Still, I wish them well and hope they find what they are looking for. It’s just that the life they want isn’t what I want.
There were many details I left out (to protect myself from this individual) and I mainly focused on my emotional state. It’s not my intention to drag them down for no reason. Rather, I wanted to express the full extent of the trauma they inflicted upon me. I believe I am physically safe because geography is a barrier. No need to worry about me.