Dating with my MS

Silence

Let's start with the facts then. As I said at the beginning, I'm a 33-year-old woman who has many things to say, but in the end she never says anything. And by no means do I mean that I keep quiet, that I don't talk to people, to my friends, to my family; I mean that I never talk about what I really want, how I really am, how things can be for me, what I would like a relationship to be: of any kind, be it friendship, love or simple acquaintance.I never say anything, nobody knows anything about what I think, what I would like or what I would not.Why? Because I've never been used or educated to express my emotions, sensations or desires. I've always done what I thought was the right thing to do, without any self-criticism about my own emotions or desires. What I felt didn't count, the important thing was to please the will and interests of others.Up until a certain point in my life not talking was so normal and natural for me that I never thought about doing it.Throwing down and burying were the mantras for living a peaceful life, or at least I was convinced that it was.I behaved this way for all aspects of my life: family, friends, study and then work, social life.It was all about living to please others, to be accepted, to avoid quarrels in every way: to be loved. A continuous pursuit, gradually losing oneself.If I had to make a claim to my life (excuse the little professional bias), it would be "WHY TALK WHEN YOU CAN SWALLOW" (no, no sexual innuendo, thanks).Yes, because this is the story of the unsaid, of the silenced, of being strong without committing to being so, simply because one is made that way. And it really isn't rhetoric: you discover you're strong only when you have to learn to be strong, never by chance.Yes, I can say this out loud: I'm strong, I don't give up at the first obstacle, I always do everything by myself, I don't need anyone.By choosing silence, one unconsciously decides to take on all the problems and consequently to find solutions. It means not asking for anything and therefore giving yourself the answers, which I already anticipate: it's a big bullshit, because everyone has their own mind, their own character and way of thinking and for no reason in the world will you be able to give yourself answers on something that doesn't just depend on you, that you can't control.Then silence is never really silence, as it is gradually filled with completely wrong thoughts, sensations, emotions, because they are not based on an exchange, but simply the fruit of our mind, which - another spoiler - is constantly wrong. Eventually you find yourself spending a life in silence and full of bullshit buzzing in your head.Another fundamental characteristic of my life also derives from silence: not wanting and not knowing how to ask for help from others. Strongly believing that you can always and in any case do it yourself. Not "annoying" for me was vital to the point of losing the people around me, through very high and very thick walls that I created carefully so as not to express any kind of emotion, to protect myself.My dears and, not too old walls.Raise your hand who, at least once in their life, has not raised one. By wall I mean that horrendous mask that we put on when life scares us. A mask made of feigned indifference, of unjustified malice, sometimes even of aggression. A feeling that makes all the parties involved feel bad. In this situation no one wins, there is no match; everything stops, the negativity of things prevails.I started to raise my wall more or less at the age of 12. Slowly, brick by brick. I built this wall over time, experience after experience, step by step, paying more and more attention to its strength, worrying more and more about building it so massive that it would never collapse again.I must say that I did a good job, so good that the more time passes, the higher the consequences I pay. I give you some advice, don't waste your time building them, over time you will realize how much they cost you and are still costing you.What does a wall cost? It costs the loss of people, it costs the loss of yourself *, it costs the waste of time, it costs your happiness, it costs so much energy that you could put into something more constructive.And then when you realize that that carefully built wall is destroying your life, it takes you years, effort, a lot of effort, a lot of sweat and even a lot of kicks in the ass to want to tear it down, from those who are rightly not willing to take your shit . Although, I still don't know why, I have always accepted other people's shit and tried to manage it in the best possible way. But we are not all the same and above all do not expect from others what you would or do yourself. But that's another story, which we'll talk about going forward.I built the wall because I absolutely didn't want to let my emotions leak.At 12 I started because I didn't want to show my friends that their jokes hurt, at 17 instead because I met my first roommate. And it is precisely from the beginning of this coexistence that the wall has developed more and more. Stronger, more robust, resistant to any impact. Imposing, a wall.