Lisa O
Growing up emotionally neglected leaves marks that aren’t easy to spot. There’s no single moment or big event to point to. People can go decades carrying these patterns around without connecting the dots. The way they handle relationships or navigate daily stress might seem perfectly ordinary to them, even when it stems from something missing way back when.
They struggle with asking for help
Asking for help can feel impossible for someone raised this way. They’d rather stay up all night figuring something out alone than send a single text asking for support. Nobody taught them that needing people was okay. The wiring just isn’t there. A problem sits in front of them for weeks, and they’ll try everything except reaching out. Their phone has contacts they never use.
Emotions feel uncomfortable or confusing
Feelings can seem like a foreign language to someone who didn’t get much emotional support growing up. They might know something feels off, but can’t name it. Sadness gets labeled as tired. Anger becomes frustration. There’s a disconnect between what’s happening inside and the words available to describe it. Sometimes they’ll notice their jaw is clenched or their stomach is tight before they realize they’re upset about something.
Compliments make them uncomfortable
Praise lands weird. They’ll laugh it off or immediately point out something they messed up. Just standing there while someone says nice things? Can’t do it. Their brain starts scanning for an exit strategy. Maybe crack a joke. Maybe flip it back to the other person. Anything but actually absorbing the compliment. It’s like their nervous system doesn’t have a setting for this.
Relationships feel one-sided
Their friendships have this pattern where everyone shows up needing something, then vanishes. And yeah, they notice. But asking for anything back feels wrong somehow. Like they’re supposed to be the person who helps, not the person who needs help. When stuff gets hard for them, they usually just deal with it alone. And that’s what feels normal to them.
They’re highly self-reliant
Everything gets handled solo. That’s just how it works. There was nobody to lean on growing up, so they figured out how to manage alone. The loneliness stopped being surprising years ago. Asking for help would crack something open they’ve kept buried for decades. They’ve built systems that don’t need anyone. Works until it doesn’t. Then they still won’t ask.
Boundaries feel mean
The word “no” basically doesn’t exist in their vocabulary. Someone asks for something unreasonable, and they’re already figuring out how to make it work. Because saying no means they’re selfish. At least that’s what it feels like. Other people’s feelings take up all the space. Their own needs can wait, like they always have.
They feel guilty for resting
Rest feels like laziness. Taking a break brings guilt almost instantly. They sit on the couch, and their brain starts listing three other things they should be doing. Productivity got tied to worth somewhere along the way. Even on vacation, they’re restless. Stopping just because they’re tired doesn’t compute. There needs to be a justified reason, and being human isn’t enough.
Conflict feels terrifying
Disagreements can send them into panic mode. They’ll avoid conflict at almost any cost, agreeing to things they don’t want or staying quiet when something bothers them. It’s not about being passive. It’s that conflict growing up might have meant withdrawal or coldness, so they learned to keep the peace at all costs. The thought of someone being upset with them can dominate their thoughts for days. They’d rather be uncomfortable than risk any tension.
They apologize for everything
Sorry is the most used word. Things that aren’t their fault. Taking up space and having basic needs. Someone walks into them, and they’re apologizing before they even think about it. They’ll stop mid-sentence just to say sorry for talking. The constant apologizing is exhausting, but they can’t stop. Taking up less space feels like survival. Better to apologize first than risk being too much.
Success feels empty
Hitting goals doesn’t give them what other people seem to get from it. The achievement happens, and they feel nothing. Maybe for a second there’s something, but then it’s gone. They’re already thinking about what’s next. Bringing up their success feels embarrassing. The internal validation they’re chasing never appears because no one taught them how to create it. A promotion comes through, and their brain goes straight to the next review.
They’re hyper-aware of other people’s moods
Walking into a room starts this automatic scan of everyone present. Who looks tense. Whose tone changed. Home life required this kind of attention just to avoid problems. It became permanent. A boss sends a short email, and panic sets in about what went wrong—the shift in energy registers immediately, while others don’t notice anything. This is exhausting for them, but it won’t turn off.
They overextend themselves
No isn’t a word they know how to use. Extra projects at work? Sure. Help someone move across town? Of course. Their calendar becomes physically impossible, but they keep saying yes, and being helpful matters more than being useful. Without that usefulness, what are they worth? The exhaustion piles up. Stopping would mean facing that question, and they’d rather just keep going.
Silence feels safer than speaking up
Speaking up stopped making sense after being ignored or dismissed enough times. They have thoughts during meetings, but sharing them feels pointless. Something in a relationship bothers them, and they just let it go. The risk of saying something outweighs any benefit. Staying quiet became easier. Nobody really knows what’s going on with them because they learned that sharing doesn’t lead anywhere good.
They struggle with self-compassion
Kindness toward themselves doesn’t exist in their vocabulary. Other people get endless compassion and understanding. A mistake they make turns into days of brutal self-punishment. The standards applied to themselves are impossibly high compared to what they’d expect from literally anyone else. That voice in their head never lets up. Making mistakes as a normal human thing was never programmed in. Neither did deserving gentleness.
Physical affection feels awkward
Hugs from people who aren’t family might make them stiffen up. They’re not sure how long to hold on or where to put their arms. Emotional warmth wasn’t expressed physically when they were young. And now, their bodies don’t know how to receive it naturally. The gesture feels nice in theory, but weird in practice. They might pat someone’s back twice and pull away.