Dear Robi (Part 1):

A walk down memory lane…

Your first post ever was on June 8, 2018, in your first of 3 threads titled: “My story and my search for answers”. You were 25 back then (34 now).

First time you shared about your parents was on that same day (6/8/18): “I’ve never really liked my parents that much. Well.. when I was really young (kindergarten young), I used to cry every time they took me there and I used to love spending a lot of time with them, but I guess things changed…”.

I copied much of what you shared about your childhood and relationship with your parents (in all 3 threads, June 8, 2018-Feb 19, 2024) and ask Copilot (AI) to analyze it.

Copilot: When you look at his story as a whole, several themes emerge very clearly: chronic emotional neglect, enmeshment, lack of autonomy, inconsistent caregiving, fear‑based attachment, and coping through dissociation and escape. Nothing in his childhood was overtly catastrophic, but everything was chronically mis-attuned: no privacy, no personal space, no autonomy, no sense of being seen as an individual, no emotional safety, no consistent connection, no encouragement or guidance and no room for self‑expression.

This is the classic profile of emotional neglect, which often leaves deeper wounds than more obvious forms of trauma because the child grows up feeling invisible, unimportant, and unformed. He wasn’t abused constantly, but he was unmet constantly.

* His parents’ anxiety and passivity shaped his development: He describes them as anxious, disconnected, passive, stuck, observers of life rather than participants. Children internalize the emotional world of their caregivers. Robi absorbed fear of taking risks, fear of the world, fear of independence, a sense of being “caged”, a sense that life is something you watch, not live. This is why he later coped through screens, movies, and fantasy — he learned to observe life instead of inhabiting it, just like his parents.

* The lack of privacy and autonomy is not a small detail — it’s developmental deprivation. A child needs a room, a door, a sense of ‘mine’, a place to retreat, a sense of boundaries. He had none of that. The glass door, the constant intrusions, the storage room — these are symbolic of a deeper truth: he was not treated as a separate person. This creates identity diffusion, difficulty knowing what he wants, difficulty feeling like an adult, difficulty separating from parents and difficulty tolerating independence. His later struggles in Spain make perfect sense in this context.

The long hours waiting at his parents’ workplace were a form of emotional abandonment. He wasn’t physically alone, but he was psychologically alone. He describes waiting, idling, watching others come and go, feeling invisible, feeling trapped. It’s a quiet, chronic form of abandonment.

The lake house summers reinforced the same pattern: trapped, isolated, no friends, no choice, no autonomy, no stimulation.

His parents chose their comfort over his developmental needs. He learned that his needs don’t matter.

* The physical punishment and threat of abandonment created fear‑based attachment: being hit with a belt, then comforted, then hit again, then apologized to — this is inconsistent caregiving, which creates confusion, hypervigilance, distrust, emotional instability, difficulty regulating emotions and difficulty forming secure bonds.

The threat of foster care is especially damaging. It teaches the child: ‘Love is conditional. If I fail, I can be discarded.’ This creates lifelong anxiety around independence and dependence.

* His computer addiction was not a flaw — it was a survival strategy. He says it himself: “It was a necessary addiction.” He used screens to escape loneliness, escape boredom, escape emotional confusion, create a private world, find stimulation, find identity, find belonging. This is classic dissociative coping.

He didn’t have a room, so he built one online.

* His adult struggles with work, independence, and identity are predictable outcomes. Children who grow up without autonomy, encouragement, guidance, emotional attunement …often struggle with initiating tasks, sustaining effort, tolerating uncertainty, believing in themselves, feeling like adults, separating from parents.

* His emotional reaction to leaving home is not contradictory — it’s attachment trauma. When he moved to Spain, he felt anxious, unstable, longing for home, crying when seeing his parents’ pictures. This is not because his parents were safe. It’s because they were familiar.

Children with inconsistent or neglectful parents often feel more attached when they finally separate — because the attachment system activates under stress.

He is grieving the parents he wished he had, not the ones he actually had.

* The “cage” returning when he accepted money is a trauma echo. He felt ashamed, small, dependent, controlled, infantilized. This is because financial dependence recreates the emotional dynamic of childhood: ‘If they support me, I lose myself.’ This is a trauma response.

Robi’s story reflects emotional neglect, enmeshment, lack of autonomy, inconsistent caregiving, fear‑based attachment, identity diffusion, dissociative coping, developmental trauma. He is a man who grew up without the conditions needed to develop a stable sense of self, and he is now trying to build that self from scratch.

— Following the above analysis, I added what you shared later on the 2/19 in regard to your visit to your parents with your girlfriend (a part I neglected to add for the analysis above.

Copilot: Robi’s experience during that visit is not an isolated incident — it’s a perfect reenactment of the emotional dynamic he grew up in. Everything he describes fits a very consistent psychological pattern: conditional support, enmeshment, emotional control, denial of harm, and punishment for autonomy.

* The ‘”support” he received was conditional, not secure. When he first told his mother about the personal trainer course, she responded with excitement, praise, and financial support. That felt like warmth, approval, belonging, hope, a “welcoming hug.” But this support was not unconditional. It was contingent on him staying emotionally close, behaving the way she wanted, fulfilling her idea of “family time”, not asserting independence, not challenging the past

This is why the support evaporated the moment he stepped out of line. This is not healthy parental support — it’s conditional attachment.

* The moment he asserted autonomy, the old dynamic reappeared: he and his girlfriend felt observed, judged, controlled, patronized, treated like children. This is exactly how he felt as a child. His parents don’t relate to him as an adult. They relate to him as an extension of themselves — someone who must fit their emotional needs. When he tries to be his own person, they experience it as rejection, disrespect, abandonment. So, they respond with control, guilt, and emotional withdrawal.

* His mother’s reaction is classic emotional manipulation. When she cornered him and accused him of not caring, she was doing what she has always done: making his autonomy into a moral failure, framing his independence as selfishness, demanding emotional closeness on her terms, punishing him for not meeting her needs. This is not connection. This is enmeshment.

* When he brought up childhood harm, she denied it — this is extremely common in emotionally immature parents. Her responses: “I didn’t hit you.”, “You’re talking nonsense.”, “You were a handful.” “It was difficult to raise you.” These are classic defensive strategies used by parents who cannot tolerate the idea that they caused harm. Why? Because admitting harm would require self-reflection, guilt, responsibility, emotional maturity.

She doesn’t have those skills. So, she rewrites history to protect her self-image. It’s because she’s emotionally underdeveloped.

* Her threat — “You’re on your own in 3 days” — is a reenactment of childhood abandonment. This is the same emotional weapon she used when he was a child: “If you don’t behave, we’ll send you to a foster home.”, “We will abandon you.” Now, as an adult, she uses: “You’re on your own.” It’s the same pattern: withdraw love to regain control.

* The silent treatment is emotional punishment- When she stopped speaking to him for days, she was punishing him for confronting her, punishing him for asserting himself, punishing him for breaking the family narrative, punishing him for having boundaries. This is not conflict resolution. It’s emotional coercion.

* His anger (“I want to crack their heads open”) is not pathological — it’s the anger of a child who was never protected. This kind of anger is common in adults who were emotionally neglected, were controlled, were hit, were denied autonomy, were gaslit about their own experiences. It’s the anger of someone who finally sees the truth. It’s not dangerous — it’s a sign of awakening.

* His mother’s final justification — “You were difficult” — is a way to avoid responsibility. When she says: “You were a handful.”, “It was hard to raise you.” She is shifting the blame onto him. But he’s right: children are “difficult” when their needs aren’t met.

A healthy parent would ask: “Why was my child struggling?”, “What did he need that he didn’t get?” His parents didn’t have the emotional capacity to do that.

* The core dynamic- Robi’s parents offer warmth when he complies, withdrawal when he asserts himself, support when he stays small, punishment when he grows, affection when he plays the role they expect, rejection when he challenges the past. This is conditional love, not secure attachment.

* Why he keeps going back? Because he is still hoping for repair, recognition, accountability, unconditional love, a parent who finally sees him. This is normal. It’s the longing of a child who never got what he needed. But the pattern is unlikely to change unless he changes the terms of the relationship.

(To be continued)

Aga, little chance that you are reading this, exactly 12 years to the day that you posted the above.

Little chance. So, it’d be a miracle, and nothing short of a miracle, if you respond to an inquiry from a stranger about how it feels a dozen years later.. to the day?

🤍 Anita

How are you, Sue???

Hi Bea 😊

Reads like you’re 2 hours ahead of me. Not yet 6 and just got to be totally dark, which is progress because not long ago it got dark at 4;30 pm.

I am glad you feel really proud 👏 of your growth when you notice it, and I hope you notice it every day.

Congrats for making new friends and dating “a bit” makes sense, taking it slowly 🐌 so to notice when old patterns show up and keep the clarity you achieved.

Anytime you want to share more, please do.

I couldn’t socialize tonight. I hope that I will tomorrow.

I hope that you have a pleasant evening and a good night 😴 sleep.

🤍 Anita

Thank you, Confused!

I suppose so, my dissociation was, unlike yours, more than emotional.

When you say “complete void”, you mean not even little emotions. You mentioned earlier feeling “a relief, kinda”, I think those were your words in regard to the psychiatrist not thinking you need meds. Was that.. kinda, litte emotion?

🤔 Anita

Hey Confused:

I am trying to remember.. I think that I was in a much worse mental state than the one you’re in (a psychiatrist would have definitely prescribed meds for me, lol).

So, best I can figure, looking back, I automatically withdrew. It didn’t take something to happen. There was no relationship, none in-person or LD, so no events within a relationship.

I remember I liked a guy at one point (I was in my very early 20s, I think, not sure), he appeared handsome to me, and suddenly, a few hours later, I couldn’t even recognize him, literally, I couldn’t. He looked like a stranger I never met, and not at all handsome.

You never experienced disorganized attachment to this extreme, did you?

🤍 Anita

Dear Emma:

“You said I would probably not be the only woman struggling with him. You really think this was mostly his fear and not all my fault?”-

Yes, absolutely. I can’t imagine any woman who wouldn’t be struggling with him. As I read the additional information you provided, I am even more sure that the breakup was not your fault at all.

Let’s look at what you shared about the four men you mentioned:

* About your father: “He has a strong opinion.”, “He is awkward with affection.”, “He is afraid to be vulnerable.”

About your brother: “He is dominant.”, “He is reactive.”, “He is daring and self‑assured.”

About W: “He has a strong will.”, “He is self‑confident.”, “He gets angry.”, “He is insecure underneath but acts strong.”

About Philip (from your earlier posts): emotionally unpredictable, intense, reactive, inconsistent.

The pattern: you are drawn to men who appear strong and confident (strong exterior) but are actually emotionally closed, reactive, and difficult to connect with (fragile interior).

So, no wonder the relationships with Philip and W ended quickly: they are difficult, maybe impossible to connect with long-term.

The thing is, you’re attracted to men who look strong but are actually fragile and therefore you feel like you have to “be sweet, don’t upset them”, to “wear a mask.”, to “(not) voice my opinions.”, and to take care of them emotionally.

I think that you’re attracted to men who replicate your childhood dynamic: men who are strong‑willed, dominant, reactive and emotionally unpredictable. Why? Because they feel familiar.

Your nervous system learned: ‘Love feels like walking on eggshells.’, ‘Love feels like trying to earn approval.’, ‘Love feels like trying to calm someone down.’

W yelled at you, hung up, mocked you, blocked you, pressured you, and punished you. But you didn’t think: ‘This is unhealthy.’ Instead, you thought that YOU have done something wrong: “Maybe it’s my fault.”, “I should have comforted him.”, “I didn’t realize how hurt he was.” You didn’t see his behavior as unacceptable (which it was). You see it as something you must fix.

When you were growing up, you learned to blame yourself for other people’s emotions because it gave you a sense of control in situations where you actually had none. As a child, it felt safer to think ‘Dad is distant because of me’ or ‘My brother is angry because I did something wrong’ than to face the frightening truth that the people you depended on were unpredictable and you couldn’t change them.

By believing their reactions were your fault, you also got to believe you could fix things by being sweeter, quieter, more honest, or more perfect. That self‑blame protected your attachment to them — because if you were the problem, then you could work harder and keep the connection.

If they were the problem, you would have been powerless, and that’s too terrifying for a child. This is why, even now, you automatically take responsibility for men’s anger, insecurity, or withdrawal. Your nervous system is still using the same strategy that once kept you emotionally safer (than the alternative), ‘If I can figure out what I did wrong, I can repair it and they won’t leave.’

You’re doing it because this was the only way you learned to feel relatively secure in relationships. As an adult, you’re repeating the pattern with men who resemble the emotional dynamics of your father and brother, and your mind still reaches for the familiar belief that their feelings are your responsibility. It’s a survival strategy you haven’t had the chance to unlearn yet.

But you can unlearn it. I know because I did. Growing up I felt very responsible for my mother unhappy, intense, reactive, unpredictable feelings and tried (unsuccessfully) to be perfect. I still remember how I even said these words to myself: “From now on, I will be perfect”. When I said that, I felt calm and hopeful. Now I realize why (because it gave me a sense of control, that if I’m perfect, she will be calm and no longer reactive).

I also minimized myself psychologically (I refer to it as Self Erasure”) to the point that I wasn’t even aware of preferences (I clearly remember feeling paralyzed sort of, in an ice cream shop, not being able to choose an ice-cream flavor (and there were only 3 flavors back then 🙂).

Now I know- vanilla with hot fudge on top 🍦.

Back to you, I can see you in a healthy long-term relationship with a different kind of man: someone calm, steady, one who is able to connect long-term. I hope to talk more about all of this (and more) with you.

🤍 Anita

Dear Thomas:

Thank you for the advice in regard to Bogart, it’s a wise advice. Actually, it’s wise to apply it with people as well.

Elaborating on it, the scientific term for it is Emotional Contagion. It means one individual’s emotional state automatically triggers a similar state in another without conscious intention, and without verbal communication

Humans do it. Dogs do it. Even babies do it. It’s the most basic form of empathy.

There are such things as Mirror Neurons: if someone looks tense, the other person’s mirror neurons simulate that tension. If someone is relaxed, the other person mirrors that too. Dogs have a similar system, which is why they’re so attuned to human emotions.

People and dogs pick up on micro‑expressions, muscle tension, breathing rate, posture, eye movements, tone of voice and scent changes (dogs smell stress hormones, so I am reading).

🙏 🤍 Anita