A version of pain that no longer exists

 02-09-2026
©2026 BTMT-TJ

I have come to a realization that is difficult to sit with.

Many times, we do not lose meaningful people because they harm us. We lose them because we are still protecting ourselves from someone else. From an earlier wound. From disappointment that never fully healed. From experiences that taught us to stay alert and guarded.

Self protection often begins with good intentions. It feels wise. It feels like maturity. It feels like finally learning to draw boundaries and take care of yourself. For a while, it even feels empowering.

Then something subtle shifts.

Protection slowly hardens into distance. Caution turns into suspicion. We begin to assume that everyone carries the same potential for harm. We read meaning into small moments that were never meant to carry weight. We hold people at a careful distance and call it discernment, when in truth we are simply exhausted from being hurt.

What unsettles me most is how easily we begin to group people together in our minds. Those who betrayed us. Those who spoke poorly of us. Those who disappeared when things became difficult. They all blend into one story.

When someone new enters our life, someone patient, steady, genuinely supportive, they inherit that story before they ever earn it. They are treated as if they are already guilty. Not because of anything they have done, but because of what they remind us of.

They feel it.

They sense the hesitation. The walls. The way parts of us stay hidden, just in case. They did nothing wrong, yet they carry the cost of damage they never caused.

That is the quiet grief of self protection taken too far.

Some of the people we pushed away were not trying to compete with us or undermine us. They were not waiting for us to fail. They were quietly rooting for us, sometimes in rooms we never entered. We were so busy bracing for impact that we never noticed the support.

Looking back, there are moments I wish I had handled differently. Moments where curiosity could have replaced assumption. Moments where honesty could have softened distance. Moments where saying, I am guarded because I have been hurt, not because of you, might have changed everything.

Instead, silence felt safer. Distance felt easier. Withdrawal felt like control.

It is true that not everyone deserves access to you. Discernment matters. Boundaries are necessary. Some walls were built for good reason.

Still, not everyone who comes close is trying to take something from you. Not everyone who loves you has hidden motives. Not everyone who challenges you is attacking you. Some people simply want to understand you. Some want to stand beside you. Some want the opportunity to show up.

Sometimes they leave. Not because they did not care, but because it is exhausting to be punished for harm they never inflicted.

That realization often arrives late. It surfaces in quiet moments. When you think of names you no longer speak to and cannot fully explain why. When you remember conversations you shut down too quickly. When you see how often self protection replaced connection.

This is not an invitation to blame yourself. It is not a call to tear down every wall you have built. It is an invitation to notice which ones still serve you and which ones were meant only to get you through a different chapter.

Some of the walls that kept you alive do not need to follow you into the rest of your life.

Because sometimes the people we miss most were not taken from us.

They were pushed away while we were trying to protect ourselves from a version of pain that no longer exists.

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