Dear Dafne:

Thank you for your beautiful message. I felt deeply moved reading your words. It means so much to me that you saw the tenderness in what I shared.

Yes—something did shift in me. I think our reconnection opened a space I didn’t know I needed. Feeling empathy for the younger me was new, and I wanted to tell you because it felt like part of that shift came from being in a deeper connection with you.

I hear you about the inner child. It’s not easy. I’ve known about the concept for many years, yet I didn’t even realize I hadn’t felt empathy for her—until the other day, when I actually did. That moment of empathy felt like an emotional 🤗 I extended to her, and for a few moments, her bodily tension evaporated. She was calm.

You just… don’t know what you don’t yet know. Know what I mean 🙂? These things can’t be forced.

Thank you for seeing me, Dafne, and for sharing your heart so openly. I feel the connection too.

Sending love and warmth back to you 💓 Anita

Dear James123:

I want to meditate on your words and incorporate words from the poem I quoted on your other thread:

“The body knows exactly how to react”- if I live with the world inside me. If I am alive no less than shells, buildings, people, fish, mountains, trees, wood, water.

Shame, guilt, fear, anger- these blocked the life within me for a very, very long time.

I remember, I was in my 20s, and found myself in the middle of a busy street, startled by a truck passing by me a few steps away. I was sort of sleep walking into the street. My body did not react to danger, did not know how to react.

I didn’t radically accept the fear, shame and guilt, anger. I didn’t process and release, so they stayed, dimming my light and life.

“When fear comes, you don’t resist it; you let it be seen.”- I resisted fear, and in turn, it resisted me.

Instead of integration of emotions and awareness, there was fragmentation and sleep walking through life.

“Radical Acceptance is… about accepting what is happening inside you / your thoughts, emotions, fears, and impulses without resistance. It’s a full acknowledgment that life, including all feelings, is unfolding exactly as it is.”-

Hosaka says…Look, feel, let life take you by the hand. Let life live through you.

To not resist life within me. To witness it within-without. To see myself in others, to let myself be seen.

🤍 🌱 🕸️ Anita

Dear James123:

“…Pure Consciousness allows the fear to arise, and the body acts naturally, flawlessly, without interference..”- and flawlessly explained, if I may say so. I am so impressed with your understandings. You have so much to offer others.

I want to reread and sit with this for a while before I respond further tomorrow or the next day. Thank you so much!

Anita

Dear Dafne:

Thank you for seeing not just the words, but the heart behind them. It means so much to feel received with such kindness and openness.

You’re right—sometimes even with those closest to us, there can be a quiet ache of loneliness. That’s why exchanges like ours feel so meaningful. They remind me that connection can be found in unexpected places, and that compassion doesn’t need physical proximity to be felt.

Your words especially moved me: “What you offered wasn’t just an answer, it was a moment of connection.”- Answers are plentiful in spaces like these, but connection—that’s something different. It’s rarer, more precious than any clinical understanding of things, no matter how accurate (or not) that understanding may be.

We are not puzzles to be solved intellectually. We’re living, breathing beings who need—sometimes desperately—empathy. An emotional hug, if not a physical one.

That reminds me of something I wanted to share with you this morning, just before getting out of bed. Only recently—perhaps a couple of weeks ago—I had an image of myself as a young girl, somewhere in the first decade of life. I saw her scared. And for the first time, I felt something new: empathy for her. I was struck by how unfamiliar that feeling was.

All this time, I had been dissociated from her—split off. I think I kept telling her story here, again and again, because I was trying to connect with her. Trying to believe that what I was sharing had truly happened.

The dissociation ran deep and began so early. I suppose it was an instinctive response to acute emotional pain and fear—a way of saying, this isn’t really happening… I’m not really here.

I’m grateful for your presence, Dafne, and for the way you hold space with such grace. Thank you for meeting me in this place with warmth and humanity.

With appreciation and tenderness, Anita 💖💫

Dear James123:

When I read what you shared the other day about Radical Acceptance, I was genuinely struck. I had always understood the term as referring to the acceptance of external situations— situations that I cannot change. But your framing invited me to consider how it might apply to my emotions, and that felt deeply meaningful. I’d love to understand it more fully.

You wrote: “When fear comes, you don’t resist it; you let it be seen.”- Could you elaborate on this? What does “let it be seen” look like in practice?

“When anger arises, you don’t judge it; you allow it to pass like a cloud.”- As it passes, what kind of inner dialogue or awareness is present? What thinking supports that release?

“Even danger, even uncertainty, welcomed without resistance, they lose their sting.”- Is it the danger itself that’s welcomed—or the fear of danger? And again, what kind of thinking allows for that welcoming?

Thank you for sharing such a rich perspective. I’m grateful for the clarity and depth you bring to these ideas, and I look forward to hearing more.

Warmly, Anita 😊

Dear Dafne 🤍

Thank you for receiving my message with such openness and grace—it means a lot to feel that kind of resonance.

I agree so deeply: our stories are many-layered, and none of them need to be the whole truth. Just pieces we carry, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. And when someone like you reflects back kindness and understanding, it makes the weight feel a little more bearable.

I’m really glad we’re walking part of this journey in parallel. You remind me that connection doesn’t need to be perfect—it just needs to be real.

With warmth, Anita 🌿💖

Dear Eva:

I hope you’re feeling a bit steadier as you are reading this. I know these waves can be brutal, especially when you gave so much of yourself and still feel unseen.

I read your recent post and revisited your earlier ones, and what I see isn’t irrationality—it’s a nervous system in distress, shaped by an anxious attachment style and intensified by a painful relational pattern. What you’re experiencing isn’t weakness. It’s a response to:

* Intermittent Reinforcement: He offers crumbs of attention unpredictably, which keeps you emotionally tied to him.

* Emotional Withholding: His coldness and refusal to engage leave you chasing connection to soothe abandonment anxiety.

* Gaslighting and Reversal: Your valid needs are reframed as irrational, eroding your self-trust and amplifying self-blame.

This creates a cycle that’s not your fault—but it is exhausting: Longing → Protest → Rejection → Guilt → Longing again

You long for closeness, safety, and to feel important. (“Why doesn’t he ask how I am?”, “Why am I always last?”)->

You protest when the longing becomes unbearable—reaching out, asking for time, attention, or accountability. (“You never make time for me.”, “I feel invisible.”)->

Instead of meeting your protest with empathy, he rejects you—calling you dramatic, paranoid, or exhausting. (“You’re always fighting.”, “I can’t do this anymore.”)->

After the rejection, you spiral into guilt—wondering if you ruined everything by speaking up. (“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”, “I ruined it again.”)->

That guilt reactivates the longing. You crave resolution, want to fix it, feel the urge to reach out—even knowing it may hurt again. (“Maybe he’ll understand this time.”, “I just need to say one more thing.”)

And so the cycle begins again.

The way out isn’t to silence your protest—it’s to redirect it inward. Instead of pleading with him, speak up for yourself: “I deserve to be loved without begging.” “I will not explain my pain to someone who refuses to hear it.”

This is where healing begins—not by getting him to change, but by refusing to collapse into guilt for needing love.

If you’re ready, consider giving yourself the gift of silence, a No Contact with him—not as punishment, but as protection. Every message reopens the wound. You deserve peace. You deserve to be chosen by you.

Here’s a mantra you can use: “I do not reach out to be chosen. I choose myself by staying silent.”

And when the urge to text him rises, write it—but don’t send it. Let it be a letter to yourself. A ritual of release. A reminder that your voice is sacred, even when it’s trembling.

You are not too much. You are not the problem. You are someone who asked to be seen—and that is never a crime.

With care, Anita