There are moments in life when nothing has technically gone wrong.

No one has criticized you.
No one has abandoned you.
No fight has happened.
Nothing bad has actually occurred.

And yet your body is already bracing for impact.

Your heart is racing.
Your chest feels tight.
Your brain is quietly planning an exit.

Not a dramatic one.
A polite one.

You get busy.
You stay surface-level.
You pull back just enough that no one can really touch the tender parts of you.

And if you’ve ever wondered, “Why am I like this?”—this is why.

Your body learned that being seen wasn’t safe

When Being Seen Used to Hurt

A lot of us learned early that honesty came with consequences.
If we shared how we really felt, it led to:
  • dismissal
  • shame
  • guilt
  • conflict
  • being labeled “too much”
Vulnerability didn’t bring closeness.

It brought exposure and distance.

So our nervous systems adapted.

They don’t wait for proof anymore.
They react to memory.

Even now, as adults, your body might still be operating under the rule:
If I show up fully, I will get hurt.
So before anything even unfolds, you’re already preparing to disappear.

Not because you’re weak.
Not because you lack communication skills.

But because your body is trying to keep you alive. 

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Disappearing Is a Trigger Point — Not a Personality Flaw

This is the part I really want you to hear:

Retreating is a trigger response.

It’s not who you are.
It’s what your nervous system does when discomfort shows up.

Disappearing doesn’t always look like leaving the room or ending the relationship.

Sometimes it looks like:
  • not bringing things up
  • staying agreeable
  • ghosting your own needs
  • emotionally checking out while still showing up
  • filling the silence with productivity

Laundry suddenly needs to be done right now.
Work suddenly becomes urgent.
Your kids suddenly need everything at once.

It’s a brilliant, sneaky way to avoid being seen.

And we often call it:
  • being mature
  • keeping the peace
  • being the bigger person
But a lot of the time, it’s just self-protection in disguise

The Short-Term Safety… and the Long-Term Cost

Avoidance feels safer in the short term.

It lowers the immediate anxiety.
It gives your body a sense of control.
It prevents potential rejection.

But long term?

It guarantees disconnection.

It becomes a self-fulfilling loop:
I’ll be rejected.
So you pull back.
And then… you’re alone.
Not because anyone rejected you.
But because you never stayed long enough to let the moment unfold.

And that’s the cost of staying hidden. 

Discomfort Isn’t Always Danger

Here’s something most of us were never taught:

Discomfort doesn’t always mean something bad is about to happen.

Sometimes it just means something is unfamiliar.

Your body might be reacting to an old story—not the current moment.

There are so many times when we feel the urge to:
  • put on the mask
  • explain ourselves perfectly
  • smooth things over
  • perform calm
  • make ourselves more palatable
But sometimes the bravest thing you can do isn’t saying it “right.”

It’s staying.

Staying when your instinct says run.
Staying when your body wants to shut down.
Staying without fixing, convincing, or over-performing.

Not to force closeness.
Not to guarantee safety.

But to allow the possibility of connection. 

Vulnerability Doesn’t Mean Collapse (Even If It Used To)

Many of us grew up without learning that:
  • you can be vulnerable without being attacked
  • you can take responsibility without being shamed
  • you can be imperfect and still belong
If your history includes emotional manipulation, unpredictability, or narcissistic dynamics, your body learned that being seen was dangerous.

So yes—of course disappearing feels safer.

And also… sometimes when you expect distance, you’re met with understanding.

Not always.
But often enough that it matters.

And when it happens, it’s deeply regulating to be seen and not punished for it. 

A Loving Question

What are you assuming the worst about—without actually checking in?

What conversations are you avoiding because you don’t know how they’ll end?

Where did you learn that hiding was safer than staying curious?

You don’t owe vulnerability to unsafe people.
You don’t have to spill everything to everyone.

But sometimes staying just a little longer in the discomfort is safer than disappearing—because hiding keeps you from the very things that could heal you. 

If Retreating Is Your Go-To, You’re Not Broken — You’re Triggered

If you notice yourself repeatedly:
  • pulling away
  • going quiet
  • staying busy instead of present
  • disappearing when things feel tender
That’s not a character flaw.

That’s a stress response.

If you want help understanding how your body protects you under stress, I created a free Stress Style Quiz that helps you identify your nervous system patterns—without shame, without fixing, without pressure.

It’s not about changing yourself.
It’s about understanding yourself.

And if retreating or disappearing is a repeat trigger point for you—something you recognize but can’t stop once it’s happening—that’s exactly why I created the Repeat Trigger Playbook.

It’s for the moments when you know better but can’t access the tools.

Not to force change.
Not to perform healing.

But to build awareness and access over time—at a pace your nervous system can actually tolerate.

One Last Thing

If you’re in a season where everything feels tender—where you feel like you’re one thought away from completely unraveling—be gentle with yourself.

Discomfort doesn’t mean you’re failing.
It doesn’t mean you messed everything up.

Sometimes it just means honesty is knocking and tell you, "it's time."

And staying—imperfect, emotional, unpolished—takes more courage than disappearing ever did.

You don’t have to be okay to be worthy of connection.
And you don’t have to hide to be safe.








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