I am very bad at sharing, the sense of vulnerability I feel drives me into a panic where I mentally remove myself into a disassociative state or else I break. I fear this will be a longer post than I intended but I’m getting to the point where I have nothing else to lose. I’m here because I’ve always wanted a community of people, or even just a single person, who can understand and relate to the person I am. I’ve gotten so good at being the person I need to be to get by. And I have gotten by, I’m still here. And for a long time I’ve been able to hold onto that, and have this feeling that I know now is hope, that things will get better.
I’ve always had this sadness and fear within me, and I’ve known it was wrong. To really understand or to know a person takes so much more than a lengthy blog post. To even begin sharing bits about my story and my life brings so much anxiety that I can barely breathe. And thus here I am rapidly approaching 30 and finding myself so convincingly masking my loneliness and depression that even vague references to my long held secrets send me into a reckless downhill spiral.
So apologies for the length of this post, but I need to reveal some things in the only place I feel safe enough to do so. There is only one other person who even knows that I’m seeing a therapist, and even though after 4 months I trust this person indefinitely and know that we relate in a way I have never related to a person before; I struggle so much with allowing myself to be vulnerable and open because I’ve never really allowed anyone to see that side of me before. After all these years I don’t really know how. But I really do want to. So I guess this is me trying and hoping for the best, because I think this is the last try I have left in me.
To make this less unbearably long I will end this here and begin again in a new post. Thanks for reading.
My story (partially) 
I'm new here and this is my story.
Another post, I know. It went so bad with my psych. 
My story
I want my mother to understand
