Been listening to Alain de Botton on Chris Williamson’s podcast, and this one part just stuck with me. He talks about how someone released from prison might actually fear freedom—not because they don’t want it, but because they’ve forgotten how to live in it. Too much space. Too many choices. It’s overwhelming when you’ve been trained to survive with limits.
He compared it to someone on a strict diet being dropped into a buffet—freedom feels scary when your brain’s been used to scarcity.
And it hit me: this is how some of us experience happiness or love.
When you’ve lived so long without warmth, joy, security, consistency or affection, abundance doesn’t feel safe—it feels suspicious. “What’s the catch?”
So we push it away. Or freeze. Or self-sabotage.
Not because we don’t want love or happiness—
but because we don’t know how to sit with it.
Sometimes, freedom can feel like a threat.
The brain loves patterns. It clings to what’s familiar.
So if you’ve spent years in fight-or-flight mode, guess what? That chaos becomes your comfort zone. Calm might feel suspicious. Peace might feel boring. Praise might shake you, because you’re used to proving you deserve the space you take up.
That’s how love can feel to someone who’s never felt safe.
How joy can feel to someone trained to wait for the other shoe to drop.
How kindness can feel to someone who’s always braced for criticism.
Sometimes we’re not resisting happiness. We’re just… recalibrating. Learning how to sit in abundance without flinching.
Healing isn’t just about receiving good things.
It’s about believing you’re allowed to keep them.
Adjusting is part of healing too.
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This reminded me of something AR pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago:
"Have you noticed how self-critical you are toward yourself?"
And me, very casually: “What do you mean? Of course, I should be.”
Cue her facepalm.
She gently said something like—“Being self-critical is part of being a good designer, sure. But when it seeps into everything, it starts sabotaging you. You need to find the balance.” Then she added, “Let’s start with what you did well today instead.”
Fast forward to Taiwan, I talked about this with my sister.
We spoke about how we grew up always trying to prove we were good enough, constantly deprived of the assurance that we already were. So now when someone gives me praise, I react with: “Are you sure?” Or worse—self-sabotage, like clockwork.
And she said something like, "Reen, you did so good. You did much better than our parents did in those days, much much better, for Sofi. I can see that".
I didn’t cry out loud.
But something cracked open in my chest.
Maybe this does take some adjusting.
Maybe this is me healing my childhood trauma.
Bit by bit.
One buffet of love at a time.
Healing doesn’t always look like joy.
Sometimes it looks like discomfort in the presence of peace—
and choosing to stay anyway.
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| Still learning how to stand in the rain without flinching. Even when the storm is over. |
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Love,
AE ✨
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