I didn’t shut down when things felt uncomfortable, even though that used to be my instinct. I noticed the urge to pull back, to go quiet, to become efficient instead of present. And instead of disappearing from myself, I stayed. Not perfectly. Just intentionally.
Shutting down had once felt like protection. Like a way to keep things manageable when emotions felt too heavy or too complicated to deal with in real time. I learned how to compartmentalize quickly, how to move on without really processing, how to keep functioning while quietly disconnecting inside. It worked, until it didn’t.
What I didn’t realize was how much shutting down cost me. It dulled more than discomfort. It dulled joy, curiosity, and connection too. I wasn’t just protecting myself from pain. I was distancing myself from my own experience.
Not shutting down didn’t mean forcing myself to feel everything all at once. It meant allowing feelings to exist without immediately silencing them. It meant noticing when my body wanted to tense, withdraw, or numb out, and choosing to soften instead. To breathe. To stay.
There were moments when staying present felt vulnerable. When it would have been easier to disengage than to acknowledge what I was feeling. But I reminded myself that discomfort wasn’t danger. That feeling something didn’t mean I was losing control. It meant I was human.
I learned that shutting down wasn’t strength. It was survival. And while survival had gotten me through a lot, it wasn’t how I wanted to live anymore. I wanted to be connected, not just functional. I wanted to respond instead of retreat.
By staying open internally, I noticed how much faster emotions moved through me. They didn’t linger or build pressure the way they used to. When I didn’t shut down, feelings softened on their own. They didn’t need to be managed. They just needed acknowledgment.
I also noticed how this changed my relationship with myself. I trusted myself more. I knew I wouldn’t disappear the moment things got hard. That trust made me feel safer in my own body, in my own thoughts, in my own life.
Not shutting down didn’t make me emotionally exposed or unprotected. It made me regulated. I didn’t swing between extremes. I didn’t bottle things up until they spilled out sideways. I stayed present enough to respond with care.
There were still moments where I wanted to retreat. That urge didn’t vanish. But now I recognized it as information, not instruction. I didn’t have to follow it. I could pause and choose differently.
I didn’t shut down because I didn’t need to anymore. I had learned how to stay with myself without getting overwhelmed. I had learned that presence was safer than avoidance. That staying was kinder than disappearing.
Being emotionally available to myself meant letting myself feel without fear. It meant trusting that I could handle what came up without leaving. And each time I stayed, that trust grew stronger.
I didn’t shut down. I stayed. And that choice continues to change how safe I feel inside myself.
Final Thought
Staying present is a form of strength.
You don’t have to disappear to be okay.
And staying builds safety.
Disclaimer
Emotionally Available to Myself reflects personal reflection and emotional self-connection. It’s not professional advice or a substitute for therapy or clinical guidance. Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
