The less you open your heart to others, the more your heart suffers.”
The root of my inability to be open stems from my childhood. (I guess much of who we are comes from childhood, right?)
I remember around the time I was eight years old going to a party at my aunt’s house. Even though I don’t remember the details of the party, I do remember what happened after.
We got home that night and my dad asked me, ”Don’t you think you should be a little more reserved or have a little mystery to you?”I was thinking, “Huh?” What did I say or express at this party that made him say that?
I’m sure I needed to hear that, because who knows what the heck I was saying. And I do believe having some boundaries is important.
But I was a little expressive girl sharing my insides and sharing what I saw and experienced. I don’t believe we should share everything with everybody and “emotionally vomit” on people, but for some reason, that moment really defined me.
I looked up to my father, and since I grew up without a mother, I looked to him for guidance.But now as an adult, I realize that my father was a private, closed person himself. So he was projecting that onto me.As I got older, I continued little by little closing parts of me off.
People used to always tell me, “Lisa, you are such a great listener.” And yes, that is one of my best qualities, and I truly do enjoy people and want to see and hear them. But I rarely give people the chance to see me and hear me.