When Being Seen Feels Like Too Much

It started with a casual exchange, mostly just texts. Light at first glance, until a line cut unexpectedly:"Lower your walls. I come in peace.” Then: “You don’t want to get hurt. We know you’re tough.”

Something shifted. The words didn’t just land; they unsettled. Like a mirror had been held up; not to reflect the surface, but to expose something I wasn’t prepared to look at.

There’s something disarming about being observed, not in the usual way people notice your style, your tone, your rhythm, but in a way that feels like someone is reading between your expressions. Spotting your patterns. Naming what you've tried to keep in check.

I wanted to brush it off. Throw some humor in, redirect the weight of it. But it stuck.

Later, I sat in meditation. That conversation came back, not as words, but sensation. A vibration started in my head and pulsed through my body in waves. Four, maybe five. I’ve felt this before, but this time I truly noticed it. Let it move. It wasn’t dramatic, just… strange. Quiet. Intimate. A calm mess. Oddly enjoyable.

And then, unexpectedly, two tears. Not sadness. Not even pain. Just a physical response, like something in me got nudged. The kind of nudge that catches you off guard because it finds the exact spot you thought was hidden.

Because truthfully, it’s been a long time since anyone’s really looked, not at the version I present, but what sits underneath. I’m used to being sharp. Strategic. Unreadable. There’s control in that. Safety. And yeah, strength too. But being unreadable long enough? You start to feel invisible. Even to yourself.

That moment of being seen, it wasn’t sweet. It was unsettling. Not harmful, just… closer than I expected.

Still, something about it stayed with me. That strange tremor. That feeling. The discomfort of being understood too quickly.

Maybe it wasn’t empathy. Maybe it was recognition, not from them, but from a part of me I rarely let surface.

I’m not ready to call it vulnerability. I’m not aiming for softness. But I can’t ignore the shift. And maybe that’s enough for now.