Thread by @AarivKhanna

I told my therapist:

“I feel safest when I do everything alone.”

She didn’t even ask why.
She just looked at me gently and said:

“That’s not independence. That’s grief.”

And I swear, I felt something in me break open.

Because it is grief, isn’t it?
Grief for every time you asked for help and no one showed up.
Grief for being the child who had to hold it all together while everyone else fell apart.
Grief for realizing, way too young, that no one was ever really coming to save you.

You didn’t choose to be strong — you had to be.
Because breaking wasn’t safe.
Crying didn’t change anything.
And needing people only led to disappointment, guilt, or punishment.

So you grew up over-prepared.
You move through life with backup plans for your backup plans.
You double-check doors, messages, emotions — everything.
You carry the weight of “I’ll handle it” even when you’re breaking inside.

People call you “independent,”
but they don’t see the version of you who secretly wants to collapse in someone’s arms — and actually be caught this time.

They don’t see the way you flinch when someone gets too close,
how you sabotage care before it can hurt you,
how you whisper to yourself, “Don’t need too much.”

Because a part of you still believes:
“If I lean in, they’ll let go.”

But you don’t have to keep living like this.
You don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay carrying everything alone.

That little child inside you —
she’s still waiting for safety,
for softness,
for someone to finally say,
“It’s okay. You don’t have to hold this anymore. I’ve got you.”