Burning Beneath

There is a moment in healing when something finally settles, not because the pain disappears, but because it makes sense.

I’ve been sitting with a question that wouldn’t let go. Not whether I imagined something, but whether my perception could be trusted. Whether what I felt was real, or just a story my mind created to fill a gap.

What I’ve come to understand is this:

the mind doesn’t invent longing out of nowhere. It responds to conditions.

When connection deepens slowly, when conversations become frequent and emotionally intimate, when care shows up in small, consistent ways, something in us naturally leans forward. That doesn’t mean lines are crossed, but it does mean boundaries are blurred. And blurred boundaries are fertile ground for confusion.

The uncomfortable part wasn’t being told “no.”

It was being made to feel as though the entire experience existed only in my head.

That didn’t sit right, because awareness isn’t the same as imagination.

What shifted everything for me was realizing that my reaction wasn’t rooted in fantasy, but in an old survival pattern. One that learned very early that being seen, praised, noticed, and reflected back was the safest place to exist.

For a long time, visibility meant security.

Silence meant uncertainty.

That wiring doesn’t disappear just because we grow older or wiser. It shows up quietly, in checking numbers, rereading messages, noticing gaps, wondering if what we offered landed anywhere at all.

Validation, I’m learning, isn’t about ego.

It’s about reassurance.

It’s the nervous system asking: Am I still here? Did I matter?

The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to prove my perception and instead turned inward. When I recognized that seeking confirmation from others was an echo of a time when external recognition was how safety was measured.

Nothing was wrong with me for needing that.

But it no longer gets to be the place where my worth lives.

There is a difference between being witnessed and being dependent on witnessing. And the work now is learning to be my own steady presence, to let my voice land inside me first, before I look outward.

Not every truth needs applause to be real.

Not every insight needs an audience to be valid.

Some realizations are complete the moment they are understood.

And maybe many of us are walking around with the same quiet hunger, mistaking validation for connection, attention for safety, and silence for absence.

Healing doesn’t take that hunger away.

It teaches us how to hold it gently, without letting it lead.

And that, for me, feels like waking up.