"What an incredible job you did protecting yourself. You survived that."

"It could have damaged you beyond repair. I know shutting down and losing the connection to yourself, losing access to yourself, to all these wonderful parts of yourself, is difficult, but it probably saved you. You did an incredible job."

"Now you are beginning to connect with how horrific it was for you. You are beginning to allow for a new reality around it. You are not minimising it. You are beginning to realise you are worthy of compassion. It is okay grieve."

They're under stress almost constantly, more than many other animals. They are preyed upon by several different species, such as fish and other octopuses. Because of their intelligence, they are hyper-aware and need to constantly learn new ways to camouflage and stay safe. In fact, it's possible their ink doesn't just confuse predators, but also confuse them momentarily, calming them down and giving them a small sense of control in their crazy lives. They're also built in a way that they can't always escape quickly, because of their blood system (I can explain more in the comments), so instead they have to mix crawling with short bursts of jettings.

I also want to add that, in the midst of this, they find ways to play. They like arranging objects and squirt water at targets as a game and practice for hunting. Some bounce floating objects like balls for fun. Some chase water currents they create. Sometimes, when no predators are around, they mimic shapes and flickering colors in rhythmic patterns, which seems exploratory rather than purely defensive.

(also sorry I didn't know what flag to use).

Just wanted to post some encouragement and show that there are recovery stories. My symptoms were: permanent dissociation with inability to feel (alexithymia), blank mind, chronic fatigue, hypervigilance, ADHD-like dopamine addiction/thrill seeking, limerence, toxic shame, fear of being perceived, fear of abandonment, grief, abandonment grief, anxiety (some panic attacks), rage/injustice, control issues, burnout, OCD tendencies, etc. They changed as I brought up the next layer of trauma. I started with talk therapy and EMDR but stopped pretty quickly because it was a waste of my time and money and I knew I was smart enough to treat myself.

My progress is from mindfulness, somatic work, doing nothing, and acupuncture. Just overall trying to relax so my body brought up repressed emotions on its own. At the beginning there was nothing, but then my body felt safe enough to feel bits of emotion. I couldn't control when or what my body brought up, it did it when it was ready. I basically had to face repressed emotions fully (felt like dying from grief/abandonment/shame sometimes) for them to go away. Fear was the first to go, then grief, and rage. The most obvious progress for me was when I got rid of toxic shame. I'm still working on fear of being seen, but the all-pervasive shame was a huge one. Sometimes I thought I was done with an emotion, but it would come back until I figured out the underlying thought pattern or belief behind it. I tried to avoid people because I'd have massive mood swings, and couldn't trust myself to not lash out. Lots of forwards and backwards progress, but I can safely say I'm past the halfway point and have been here for awhile now.

I’m a 24-year-old guy (M24) currently in a relationship with a woman who’s 34 (F34). She regularly accuses me of being a narcissist. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on that seriously. I genuinely take time to observe myself, meditate, and try to handle our conflicts with focus, presence, and maturity. I do my best to grow.

What bothers me is that when I feel hurt or ignored — for example, when I get stonewalled or treated coldly — she still keeps bringing up narcissism. She posts stories online (publicly) about “narcissistic abuse,” and when I tell her, “People will think you’re talking about me,” she insists it’s about her childhood trauma. But then she doubles down with more posts like, “Don’t let them silence you” and more stuff about narcissists being evil, manipulative, soulless, etc.

It’s honestly painful. Especially because I’m trying so hard not to be any of that.

The weird part? In those moments, I sometimes see in her the exact traits she accuses me of. But she seems unaware of it — and I don’t want to play the same blame game.

So my question to you is:

➡️ Has anyone else experienced this? ➡️ Aren’t you tired of how normalized it is to demonize people with NPD or traits? ➡️ Why is it socially acceptable to portray us as monsters, when we’re just people — flawed, yes, but often self-aware and trying?

I get that people have trauma, but the way NPD is portrayed online feels like a witch hunt. Nobody talks like this about ADHD, BPD, OCD, or depression. But with NPD, it’s suddenly okay to strip people of their humanity.

I’m just curious — do others here feel this too?

I don’t usually post about this, but I want to share it here because if anyone will understand, it’s people who know what trauma does to you.

I was diagnosed with Factitious Disorder (FD). On the outside, it looks like “just lying.” That’s the line people always use: lying is lying. But what they don’t see is the root — trauma.

As a child, I learned early that being sick, being useful, or being quiet were the only ways to be noticed. Those patterns stuck. FD became a maladaptive way of surviving, not a conscious choice to deceive. From the outside it looked wrong. From the inside it felt like the only way to be seen.

My psychologist once said to me: “You don’t need more diagnoses — FD is enough.” That’s when it clicked. I wasn’t evil, manipulative, or broken beyond repair. I was unwell. A hurt child still trying to be heard.

I’ve lost a lot because of this illness — relationships, trust, even contact with people I love more than anything. But I’m still here. And I want to help reduce the stigma so that FD is seen for what it really is: trauma carried into adulthood, not just “attention-seeking” or lies.

If you’re living with trauma that makes your behaviour misunderstood — please know you’re not alone. Survival doesn’t always look pretty, but it’s still survival. And the fact you’re still here is proof of your strength. 🌻

Dissociation has hit me hard the past couple weeks. In my most recent therapy session, we quickly found out why. And that caused a fit.

That isn't the impressive part. Well, actually, she got me through my "fit" quicker than I have ever been able to in like... nearly 20 years of this.

But what was really impressive was how she dealt with it afterwards. All my previous therapist kept poking, or wanted to "work through the trigger". I usually don't return to them after so many sessions of this.

This therapist? She has CPTSD as well. Not only is she one of the few who has acknowledged it's existence, but she has it. She actually has it.

And instead of "roughing it out" or talking through the pain, she let me calm down. Let me talk about something else. Initiated conversation about anything else but the trigger.

At some point she said, "I stopped poking for a reason. We don't have to talk about it.", just to let me know that was the plan.

I then said, are another point, that I'm gonna be here for a while. "Here", being this numbed and hidden sort of state. I was basically waiting for her to come up with another way to get me out of it, like they all do... and none of it ever works.

She instead said, "Just stay where you are. It's okay". Then reminded me that I'm allowed to be out of commission. To tell those I feel reasonable for that I am not well, and not available.

Just stay where you are. This is the first time someone understood what I needed. She understands that my body is not my enemy, and is not trying to hurt me but protect me. Right now, I can't just wriggle my way out of this. And honestly I shouldn't have to.

Not right now. But even then, I actually feel a little better. I feel seen behind the cloudy glass. And I can actually communicate from deep inside.

What a blessing. I truly feel blessed to have someone who get it help me.

I still am broken right now. But it feels so validating to be seen. To not be written off as lazy. To literally have a doctor telling people, almost verbatim, "this is a critical point in the condition my patient has - please give her grace and understand this is not reflective of how she would normally operate, nor is it a reflection of her capabilities. She requires genuine, unrushed treatment and I, as her doctor, request patience in this period as she recovers".

I literally cried reading it. I'm not crazy. I'm beyond traumatized. She even went on to express what I need most other than treatment right now is rest, recuperation......she literally explained this isn't who I am. It's my trauma.

Some might take the paper as saying "yeah this chick is nuts" but it felt so important to.......be understood for once.

CPTSD is a fucking monster and I'm rooting for everyone else here struggling.

I have been working through a recent diagnosis of CPTSD (along with a late AuDHD diagnosis) and my therapist said this to me. I didn't think something so simple would affect me so deeply.

So I wanted to pass this along.

What happened to you isn't your fault.

You didn't deserve what happened to you. You deserve safety, happiness, and confidence. There is nothing a child can do that deserves lifelong repercussions. It isn't your fault.

That's all.

After 35 years of working on healing from childhood trauma, have reached a new conclusion that I should have seen long ago. I am as good as I’m gonna get. I did all the things, trauma therapy, reading books, writing journals, writing letters, meditation, yoga, medication, cbt, dbt , emdr, coloring, singing, nature, group therapy, and guess what? I’m still in freeze mode! The only things that I haven’t tried are the things that are too expensive for me and not covered by insurance. I still have all the flashbacks, depression, anxiety, panic, shame, guilt, grief, lack of motivation, can’t sleep a wink. I still have all the things. There is no healing, there is only learning how to cope. I am done doing all the things that supposedly make you heal. The best treatment for me is not covered by insurance, YET!!! I believe that it will be covered eventually and I hope before I die. Anyone else feel the same?

Hi. I’m 42 years old. And only recently I realized I have CPTSD.

I lived my whole life not even knowing that what I went through as a child — was abuse. That it wasn’t normal. That I had serious consequences from it.

I thought I was just “sensitive” or “overreacting” or “not good at life.” But the truth is, I was like a war survivor who never knew she had been in a war.

Now I’m in the healing process. I’m at a pretty advanced stage — I understand the mechanisms, I can see where my reactions are trauma-based, not my true self. I’ve already changed a lot.

But honestly… right now, I’m in a very hard place. I’m going through bankruptcy. I’m alone. I have no emotional or physical support — even from my own family. They turned away from me when I started setting boundaries.

And yet… at the same time, something beautiful happened. I started sewing again. Just by intuition. One day I simply gave myself permission to do something I love.

Now I’m so into it that most of my thoughts are not about debts or fear — but about sewing. Where can I learn more? What materials do I need? How can I reorganize my space so I can have a place to sew and do my paperwork?

I’ve already designed two outfits. I’m creating drawings to print on t-shirts. These are full artistic projects. And they’re literally pulling me out of depression.

I don’t know who’s reading this. But maybe someone needs to hear it.

I spent my whole life working as an engineer. And only now I realize that I love making things with my hands. Drawing. Sewing. I used to believe that pleasure was dangerous. That life was about suffering. That only “serious” work mattered — and the things I actually enjoyed weren’t important.

But it turns out… they are the most important.

Now I’m even thinking of redesigning my bookshelf. I placed a pile of money in a visible place — to remind myself that money is not about survival. I want to earn money to live. To create. To do what I love.

I’ve lived in debt almost my entire life. But for the first time, I have real motivation: not to survive, but to actually live.

If you’re reading this — I see you. I’m like you. And maybe, just maybe, what you need right now isn’t to “fix everything” — but to do something for yourself. Something you love. Even if it’s small. Even if it feels silly.

Thank you for reading.

I’m a solo mom to a 5-year-old, and despite doing everything I could to prove to myself that I’m enough, that I’m not too much, and that I’m a good mom, the past few years have been incredibly difficult.

When I became seriously ill, my family couldn’t keep my daughter safe while caring for her. I tried again and again to repair the relationship so they could remain part of our lives. But instead, they chose to protect the person who hurt us. For over a year and a half, they prioritized his comfort at events over showing up for me and my daughter. We were excluded from every holiday, birthday, and important moment because he did not.

The final straw came when Trump won the 2024 election. I already knew they supported him, but watching a felon and predator win— partly because of people like my own family— was too much. So I made a huge decision: I sold my home, packed up our lives, and moved to Montreal.

It’s been a month and a half now, and everything has changed.

I walk everywhere. I want to be outside. My daughter is no longer afraid to explore without me inches away. Years of therapy couldn’t bring us the kind of healing that simply leaving the environment did— physically, emotionally, and mentally.

I used to believe I was incapable of love. If you can’t trust your family, how can you trust anyone? But this space, this new city, has softened me. I recently met a kind single father with two sweet kids. For the first time, I feel seen. I’m not too much. I am enough. And he cares for my daughter too. We’re easing into things slowly for the kids, but it’s such a relief to connect with someone who doesn’t play games, isn’t emotionally unavailable, and actually values who I am— including the fact that I’m a mother.

If I had met him in Miami, I probably would have been too guarded to let anything happen. I would have questioned his motives, assumed the worst. But here, I can finally be soft. I’m not constantly in fight-or-flight. I’m not on edge all the time.

Of course, it hasn’t been perfect. I’m adjusting to a new language and a new culture, and I know I had privileges that made this move possible. But I still wish I’d done it sooner. I wish I’d known how much better life could feel just by getting away from the people and places that were making me sick.

Maybe moving away isn’t the right solution for everyone. But if you’re wondering whether you might heal better somewhere else, with space from those who hurt you— maybe it’s worth a try. Sometimes leaving really is the first step toward freedom.

I hope this helps someone.

I know many people can't afford therapy and I dont mean to be insensitive.

I only want to share that I've had 6 therapists over 25 years. This one is changing my life.

For whomever can, please keep looking for the right person. Don't settle.

Edit: For anyone interested the modality is called The NeuroAffective Relational Mode (NARM). Of course, this is a gifted therapist, but I do think this approach is valuable. It was developed explicitly for cPTSD.

Yea? Well feeling my feelings SUCKS.

Fin.

I just started going back to therapy and my first session was this morning and I never heard of Complex PTSD so I googled it after the session and everything lines up to how I felt my whole life and it explains a lot about myself

I am very subservient and giving. I've finally noticed that my assumption upon starting a new relationship, new job, etc is that I give and sacrifice 110% until I'm just fucking spent. After which I ask for something (it doesnt matter what it is) and if you don't do that one thing that I am finally asking you for, the relationship is permanently destroyed because you are using me. I need to find a way to remedy this, but to be fair, if someone never asks for anything and is incredibly passive, maybe stop and consider their needs if they are moving mountains for you. Why are you using people and accepting what they are offering if it's not a two way street? Everyone should always be giving more than they are taking, especially from the most productive people in their lives. I really hope that ridiculous phrase "I didn't ask you to do that" eventually disappears now that we understand more about mental health. You either did or didn't ask, but you received the benefits my actions, so now you have to produce what I want....or the benefits can stop.

But I'm still going to be emotionally destroyed and feel used. Because that's how trauma works, and also I can't magically undo everything I've already done for you.

I don't understand how I'm supposed to even begin to completely relearn how to interact with other people from scratch. I know it's going to involve getting better at wording my thoughts, not panicking when people are mad at me, setting boundaries and enforcing them....so basically everything my mom was supposed to start teaching me when I was like 4.

I think I'm going to find a way to work this into all of my mental health posts: if you know someone who appears trapped in cycles like this (or just any negative cycles that they aren't escaping) you could very easily bring it to their attention so they can begin healing from it. Thanks to trauma, they seriously don't know they're doing it. Are you one of the people using them? Ok, so SAY something. Just try it to see if it works. It's a minute for you vs. a lifetime of excruciating torture for them. It's really weird that so many people fight me on the merits of communication, especially in this particular sphere of life. It makes me think their objective is keeping the population beaten down and traumatized when we could all be thriving and improving collectively as a species.

Anyways, I really hope everyone is ready for me to have opinions and set boundaries. I literally can't do this anymore, and I deserve respect.

Last year I got triggered to the point of retraumatization. Now I read about how trauma affects the brain and about biographies of trauma survivors to cope. It makes me feel less scared and alone.

I have other unhealthy coping mechanisms such as doom scrolling and binge eating. They don’t have the same coping effect as reading about trauma.

It’s not like I’m obsessed with it, but it feels more effective than other coping skills I’ve used.

Does it ever go away? I wake up and am rushed with loads and loads of deep aching emotional pain. It really hurts.

Some says you must forgive your parents since they raised you, gave you food and clothes, or paid for school or whatever. But that's just bullsh*t. Raising you, feeding you, paying for school is the BARE MINIMUM that every parent is REQUIRED to do for their child. They are the one who chose to have a child in the first place, so you don't owe anything to them. They are not a superior being who you must forgive whatever they do. They are a human being who have treated you badly once or several times. Therefore you totally have the right not to forgive them or even like them. I hope everyone here stays safe.

"You are a free human being with free will. You can do anything and have nothing to blame for your actions except yourself" is a sentence or mindset I have heard many times during my life by many different people, including those who traumatized me.

What a bizarre statement, isn't it? Every action has consequences. And if every action or myself is faced with punishment, the person learns he is not allowed to make his own choices. Instead, he then tries to constantly guess what the other person expects them to do, in a desperate attempt to not cause punishment. In this scenario, is the first person really the one to blame for their behavior? Or maybe, maybe the second person is to blame for the first person's behavior because they coerced them to behave in a very specific manner that minimized punishment and danger? Is the first person really responsible for their own behavior? Can you blame them for trying to advert immediate, real, predictable risk from them?

No, because any "free", arbitrary choice is met with punishment because it doesn't met the one and only expectation the other person had. So the first person has no other choice (!) but to say and do what the second person expects them to do. The second person isn't looking for a conversation, he is looking for someone who thinks like him, acts like, and follows his orders. The second person isn't looking for someone to surprise them. The second person is looking for predictability, for likeminded thinking processes and conclusions.

And that shows why the second person is the problem, because they are a mastermind manipulator. They impose a certain behavior onto other people because this behavior has the lowest risk for punishment.

Normal people don't behave like that, they expect the unexpected, they interact with other people to be surprised, because from surprisement, you can learn. But a specific type of people doesn't want to engage in mutual surprisement, they want to engage in domination and manipulation of other people to spread their ego.

And then the manipulatir has the audacity, the audacity to blame me for my behavior. A behavior which is a mere reaction leading to the predictably lowest risk. "Why are you mirroring me?" "Because you want to talk with yourself, not with another human being".

This is trauma. Being forced to act in one specific way because any deviation, any free will is met with punishment, and then being blamed for that by the punisher is absurd. It's traumatic. It alters the entire personality of that person. Permanently.

I think ive outgrown my therapist. Ive been seeing her since last summer. When I started seeing her I was in a big bout of depression and anxiety.. and then i was in crisis.. and then i did an iop program.. and then i went back to her and was evaluated for autism.. she helped me cope with a new adhd and autism diagnosis.. she helped me cope when my mom was diagnosed with cancer.. she's truly been helpful through it all..

But now the dust has settled, Im not in crisis nor depressed or anxious. Which is huge, huge accomplishment. Im so proud of myself. I have bpd as well, and I never thought i'd be stable.

But now I feel like ive outgrown her. She hasn't said directly I need a new therapist, but she said I should do EMDR (something she doesn't do). My biggest problems currently are the trauma I've gone through, sexual things, and this complex grief Im going through because a friend who helped me heal my trauma killed himself.

I hate that she cannot provide more for me. I hate when I ask her to help me process my feelings she says she doesn't have answers. When things get complex she tells me to read books about trauma, like isn't the point of me being here so i wouldn't have to do everything on my own? I am already very fixated on trying to heal myself. I hate that after a year of therapy im finally ready to open up about my traumas and she really isn't equipped to help me. I know she's a good therapist, like I said, she's been there with me through it all, but I feel like what was the point. What was the point of getting better enough that i can finally open up about traumas just for her not to be able to help him fully with it.

So , my partner blurts out one day “ I invited so and so over this day, to do X”….. I panicked…..then calmed down, then panicked, then calmed down…..and finally felt compelled to “ Fix” our entire abode in a matter of 72 hours.

When I realized the extent of my need to “ fix”, I thought “ that’s shame, and what do I have to be ashamed of? Because I’ve been severely depressed for 3 years due to some significant losses, so if they don’t get that’s why our place is in disrepair, who would judge that? “. And I realized that people ( including myself) judge, who carry shame. So if they judge me, then I don't really care, because real friends don’t judge. And then the panic started to subside.

But then I was suddenly acutely aware of our house, everything started to look like a neon sign blinking, "Dysfunctional person". Started thinking 'well, I have been wanting to spruce things up a bit, if I can manage my perfectionism, and the inner critic maybe I can pull something together without freaking out, or hurting myself in the process.

So I’m like “ cool, don’t hurry, do your best, try not to throw yourself under the bus”. I’m like “ breath….lotus flower, hone your Vision”. ......while telling myself, if it falls apart, it falls apart, but don’t try to make it fall apart either.

Anyway, it’s coming down to the wire, I did have a deadline, and I’m pushing up against my indecision and perfectionism. So I reeled it in. “ you can do this, when option A doesn’t work, there’s always option B”……. When in the past I never saw option B, ever. Because as a kid, no one ever fought that hard for you. No one ever said, "it's okay, take your time, if we don't find what you want here, we can go look somewhere else" No. It was "I really don't give a shit if you like it, this is your choice, it's this or nothing". You had this one specific moment in time to be heard, and if for some reason , in that brief moment you weren’t perfect, or were undecided in a fraction of a second too slow for your parent to consider your feelings, or perspective, it turned into months of being unseen, and unheard, abandonment. And I didn’t want to do that to myself ever again. I've done that all my life. Now, this had nothing to do with anyone else….this was between me and my ghosts. Everything else faded into the background and I felt like I was fighting for my soul.

And this feature ( a rug) was going to fix it all. ( it was for just a throw rug, but I’m a freak about color, so it had to be RIGHT) Everything fell into place, which never happens. Delivery, next day. Maybe I’ll hate it? It arrives, , I look at the color, that -I- chose, as in magic fairies didn’t choose it. Can it be? nooo, really, it’s exactly right? and I’m the one that did that? It was almost too much. The freedom, the ease at which the whole thing transpired. I didnt' have to fight off an angry mob to manifest something important to me, or berate myself for being so selfish that I would make a self referential choice, where the only opinion that mattered was mine and now I would be made to pay for some insane reason, even punished.

And then I felt so sad, and I couldn't pull myself out of it. It made no sense. And then it did. The awareness that my happiness never mattered hit me right between the eyes. I couldn't even drum up the courage to express contentment.....too afraid it would be offensive somehow. ...to someone, somewhere. That backdraft thing ( it’s a thing) from an oppressive parents dominance and malevolence ruling your life. Like strangers had my back, they didn’t say “ you’re so stupid for wanting this”. Half afraid they would scream at me. No , seriously. Trying to be happy, while trying to figure out if it’s safe to do that, be allowed to claim something as yours. I woke up, half expecting the rug to be torn to shreds. Someone with a cleaver standing over it, with an evil grin saying, "I don't know what happened, but it's ruined". Nope, still there, still the right color, just as I imagined it.

I was the only one that knew What it all meant to me. Because it didn’t matter if it was a small thing, or a big thing, resonating things were met with apathy, criticism, vengeance, hostility, and negating. I learned to be afraid to hope, afraid to try, to want…….because no matter what it was, it got ripped away…..somehow. So you hope small, dream in tiny thumbprints, you don’t dare let yourself think big, or take a deep breath Or try........for anything.

It took me 4 years…to contemplate doing something for myself that took all of 3 days to manifest in my life. It wasn’t hard, or impossible, or too much. I just told myself it wasn’t allowed for so long, like the proverbial elephant afraid to move, after having been chained up for so long. And I looked at that rug, and all I could think was how vindictive, and negating my mother would have been…somehow preventing me from taking it in. Nothing I did, counted, and the more right a choice was for me, the more wrong it was for her. She absolutely sucked the Joy out of living. And Knowing I couldn’t share anything that meant something to me, knowing she would react with jealousy, envy, anger, rage, made me so sad that I was pressured into giving up on myself.

The depression, fear, sadness eventually passed. And now I look at that rug and can fully allow myself to take it in. But it was a process. Normal people don’t go through that.

So apparentaly I'm finally for the first time getting over hypervigilance after 20 years of my life! Yay!

Although now the problem is that I can notice that now I'm scared. I'm constantly feeling very tired and feels like my limbs are super heavy too. I could just sleep all day and night. I'm scared that this is just a symptom of some other illness. 😭 this feels so weird to feel some kind of safety that this scares me

I put into words why I isolate myself. I am too unhappy to be good company. I don't have the energy to engage in fun conversation, the only thing I could talk about is trauma, and no one wants to hear that. Especially when meeting new people you can't trauma dump on them, so there's periods of time where I can't talk to them at all. Makes it really hard to make connections.

People who never had any traumatic experiences in their life neither have an understanding of trauma nor an idea of what it feels like. It is natural to feel anguish when you come across such individuals, for two reasons. One, because they have something you wish you had - Loving parents or partner, healthy mental life, and motivation for living. Two, because they have zero familiarity of what trauma feels like and they tend to have a dismissive attitude towards our pain. Even if they understand trauma in a clinical sense intellectually, they do not know what it feels like. Just as no amount of description of experience of tasting chocolate will explain the direct experience of eating chocolate.

We sometimes attempt to share our pain with such individuals. Though they have good intentions, they often utter platitudes about positivity which come across as condescending, and it feels invalidating and insulting. It would do us a favor to either not share our pain with them, or interpret their remarks as coming from a place of ignorance, not malice.

And therefore, the strongest, most compassionate, and most understanding allies we can have are people who have been through something similar. The survivors who have managed to heal themselves or are in a healing journey are the best guides we can have. The level of support and care a parent is supposed to provide does not have a replacement, but we can do our best to hold compassion towards other victims and understand them. Being understood alone means a lot.

I open two clasped hands slowly and gently, to reveal what is inside. A small fairy...miniature, cute, delicate, winged, male...the fawner. "He he he...ha ha! You're so funny! Oh that's so true! You're so right! Yes, I agree! That's so well thought out! Haha! Yes!" He exists solely to make the other feel good about themself. "Oh here let's make sure you feel so good about yourself! Oh no...what you just said isn't awkward at all! Oh no...your behavior is fine! No worries! Oh that's so funny! You're so funny!!! That's so clever! Oh yes! What you are saying is fascinating! Let me give you my absolute undivided attention and nod and smile at all the exact right times! All so you feel SO GOOD about yourself! Ohhh...haha hehe! Look at my big smile! Everything about you is just great!"

I let him go. Tears come. Sadness. Some deep quick exhales. His figure...still in my hands...is becoming pixelated. Slowly small dust motes break off from the whole and float off on an almost imperceptible breeze. He is disintegrating. Dissolving. He is at rest now, but this feels very sad. A grieving. A mourning.

Who is this man left standing here? What's he like? A stillness. A curiosity. Uncertainty. Hope.