I grew up angry.
Not understanding why – leaning in and learning how to adjust to everything around me.
Conflict didn’t look like resolution. It looked more like avoidance.
What was said seemed to matter less than how I responded to it.
Conversations would shift – quietly, continually – until the focus wasn’t the harm, but my reaction.
I learned early that emotions weren’t always welcome.
Too much feeling often led to emotional struggle.
So I stayed small instead.
What I didn’t know then was that I was navigating the world with something no one had named.
So the things I struggled with weren’t recognised as struggles.
They were often seen as flaws.
Being angry was often seen as “attitude.”
Being sensitive was often seen as “overreacting.”
My needs were often seen as “too much.”
And when your reality isn’t reflected back to you, it becomes easier to question it – even when something in you knows it’s real.
There’s a particular kind of confusion that comes from that –
when your experience is redirected, minimised, or misunderstood.
It’s not just the situation you start to doubt.
It’s yourself.
Looking back now, it feels different.
My reactions weren’t the problem.
They were signals.
A nervous system trying to cope without the tools or understanding it needed.
Feelings don’t arrive by choice, and they don’t disappear just because they’re inconvenient to someone else.
What I’m learning now isn’t just acceptance.
It’s something closer to ownership.
Acceptance says: that happened, and it affected me.
Ownership says: I get to decide what belongs to me.
I recognise that I grew up in an environment that didn’t know how to hold and care,
still I learned how to hold myself.
I can see that parts of me were overlooked –
and still learn how to see myself more clearly now.
This feels like understanding.
Like clarity.
Because when the focus stays on your reaction, resolution doesn’t really happen.
And without resolution, it’s easy to carry questions that were never yours to hold.
I’m starting to put some of them down.
I was never “too much.”
I was responding to too much, without the support.
“I am no longer carrying what isn’t mine.”
And that changes things.
