Misunderstood

When You’re Not Seen Clearly

There’s nothing that rattles my nervous system quite like a misunderstanding.

Not conflict. Not chaos.

But the ache of being misread.

Because I know what I meant.

I know where it was coming from.

But when someone takes your softness as over-sensitivity,

your pause as distance,

or your boundaries as rejection —

it’s hard not to spiral.

And in those moments, I can feel the old urge rise up:

"Explain yourself. Fix it. Make it clear."

But here’s the truth I’ve learned the hard way:

Not everyone speaks your emotional language.

Some people will only ever hear what they’re ready to receive.

And the need to be understood can become a trap if you chase it at the cost of your own peace.

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I am a communicator through and through.

I’ll talk. I’ll listen.

I’m happy to do both for as long as it takes —

so long as each side is fully heard and everything is laid bare.

Because understanding doesn’t always mean agreement.

It just means holding space long enough to say,

"I see where you're coming from. Even if it’s not where I stand."

And that’s often where misunderstandings begin —

not from differing opinions,

but from unacknowledged feelings.

From people hearing your tone, but not your truth.

From reacting to the mirror instead of meeting the soul.

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So these days, I try to pause.

To go within and ask:

“Did I move from truth?”

“Would I say or do it differently if no one else ever validated it?”

And if the answer is no — I let it rest.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting.

Sometimes it hijacks my whole day.

But that’s not because I’m weak —

it’s because I care deeply.

And being misread hurts.

Still, integrity isn’t about being understood.

It’s about standing in the storm of misinterpretation

and not losing yourself in the wind.

---

And it’s not just acquaintances who misunderstand us.

Sometimes it’s family.

Colleagues.

Close friends.

Quite possibly… everyone you know.

Even the people who match your frequency on every other level.

Because emotional frequency?

That’s the hardest one to sync.

Every soul contract, every experience, is built on unique emotions —

and no two lives carry the same code.

So even when someone gets you,

even when the connection runs deep,

there’s still a margin.

A margin of misunderstanding.

Because there’s always going to be that one feeling,

that one nuance,

that lives in your body and only your body.

---

And when that feeling is misread — there’s a pull.

A need to clarify.

To respond to every single line.

To rephrase. To rewrite.

To expand and soften and explain just a little more —

not to manipulate the moment,

but because being misunderstood hurts.

What I’ve learned, again and again:

If the other person isn’t ready to hear you,

if the emotional charge is still rising,

you’ll end up burning out trying to reach a version of them that isn’t even present yet.

Because communication isn’t just talking and listening.

It’s timing.

It’s nervous system safety.

It’s mutual regulation.

And sometimes…

the most respectful thing you can do is take time,

not just hold space.

Because nobody’s experience should be dismissed — including your own.

---

And there’s no medal for the one who argues best,

or who gets the final word.

Because it’s not a game.

It’s a conversation.

And when the goal is connection — not victory —

everyone wins when they’re truly heard.

---

But let me be clear — it’s not about my emotional truth invalidating someone else’s input.

Often, the response I receive comes from love.

From someone trying to help, to ease, to support.

And I honour that. I really do.

But what I’ve learned is this:

before I reach out to anyone else while I’m still inside a feeling,

I have to sit with myself first.

Really sit.

Because in the past, I overtrusted the opinions of others.

Their view became my truth —

and I handed over my own knowing without even realising it.

It took years to rewire that.

To trust myself again.

To know the difference between “needing support”

and “not yet hearing my own voice.”

---

Now, I check in with others only after I’ve checked in with myself.

Not from the height of the emotion —

but from the grounded place beneath it.

That good old teaching:

Acknowledge the feeling. Sit with it. Feel it. Let it go.

That’s what I do now.

I get to know the feeling intimately.

That’s what shadow work is.

It’s sitting with the uncomfortable —

making friends with it.

Understanding it.

---

And maybe that’s why I’m so protective of myself

when I am misunderstood.

Because when someone tries to gently override my process,

however well-meaning it may be,

it can feel like being patted on the head.

Like being told,

“You don’t know your own emotions. Let me tell you what they really are.”

And I know it’s coming from their own lens.

From love. From their experience. From their nervous system.

But it’s still my biggest trigger.

So I step back.

I recalibrate.

I meet myself again.

Because for me, it’s not just about being right —

it’s about being recognised.

It’s about being trusted to know myself.

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This whole pattern could be rooted in something even older:

that Libra-coded wound of injustice.

But then again — I am a Libra.

This is the energy I was incarnated into.

Do I really need to say more?