Dear MissLDuchess:

I see something we share—a deep longing for self-expression born from years of suppression. Like you, I spent much of my early life in survival mode, unable to fully explore who I was.

At your age, I carried many of the same feelings—hurt, resentment, and struggles with self-worth, all rooted in rejection, exclusion, and social isolation. I felt like I was never “good enough” to be included. Like you, I dreamed of being seen, heard, and recognized, imagining myself on stage with thousands cheering me on (and millions watching me on TV all over the world 😳)—transforming from a “nobody” locally, into a “somebody” internationally.

I was chronically single and lonely. The pattern in my life mirrored yours—longing for connection, fearing rejection, and withdrawing instead of taking risks.

I resented the way people treated me, yet I feared confrontation and avoided setting boundaries. My anger built up internally, making it difficult to endure. What I didn’t realize at the time was that suppressed emotions don’t disappear—they manifest in ways we don’t always see. I may have tried to be kind, but hesitation, guardedness, and underlying resentment shaped my interactions. Even unspoken anger creates tension, altering the way people perceive us, even when no words are spoken.

Looking back, I realize that I encountered people like your roommate—those who were inconsiderate and unkind, even cruel, people who saw my vulnerability and took advantage of it. The frustration, hurt, and betrayal left lasting scars.

But as I reflect deeper, I see that not everyone who disappointed me was truly bad. Some were genuinely good people, but flawed—human. In moments of pain, I judged them harshly, seeing their imperfections as defining faults instead of limitations.

I expected people to always show up perfectly, always understand, always support me in exactly the way I needed. And when they failed to be perfect—I assumed they were just another source of hurt. I expected the worst, and any imperfection felt like proof that they were bad people.

I learned that people noticed my anger (as suppressed as it usually was), they noticed my distrust and suspicion and responded by withdrawing from me, and sometimes getting angry at me in return, which reinforced my distrust and suspicion (a self-fulfilling prophecy)

I’ve come to realize that there’s a difference between those who intentionally cause harm and those who simply aren’t capable of meeting us where we need them. Holding onto this distinction has helped me navigate forgiveness (a recent development in my life, still working on it) —not to excuse the actions of those who truly hurt me, but to release the weight of resentment toward those who were imperfect yet well-meaning.

Reading your words, MissLDuchess, I see someone who has carried so much inside for so long—your dreams, your voice, your frustration, your anger. For years, you’ve held back your creativity out of fear, just as you’ve held back expressing your emotions. In a way, your suppression of music mirrors the suppression of your anger—both silenced to avoid discomfort, both waiting for permission to exist fully.

Maybe this audition isn’t just about singing—maybe it’s about allowing yourself to take up space, to be heard, to express what’s been locked away for so long. Whether it’s standing on stage or finally speaking your truth, you deserve to be seen and understood.

No matter the outcome, stepping forward would be a victory. What would it feel like to approach your emotions the same way—with the confidence that you deserve to express them?

anita

One more thing, MissLDuchess-

In regard to “if I’d chosen to chase stardom as an actress/singer like I wanted to do as a kid and teen”- I would love to hear more about this. As a teen, I used to daydream a lot, imagining myself singing in front of large audiences, as well as being a famous movie star.

anita

Dear Peter- everyone:

You recently wrote, “I suspect we have fallen into a trap of language”, and “I was concerned that we were getting lost in a attempt to define experience as definitions.” In this reply (to your most recent post), I will try to do neither. Here it is:

Your words resonate in a way beyond definitions. That moment in nature—the depth of it, the way it shifted something inside you—it wasn’t about labeling the experience, but simply being in it.

Maybe truth isn’t something to hold or explain, but something to move from. The stillness you felt, the compassion that arose—those are real, because they shaped the way you walked forward, whether or not they lasted in the form of feeling.

Rather than chasing understanding, perhaps it’s about allowing what was known in that moment to simply exist within you, unchanged by the need to prove it. What do you think?

anita

Dear Dafne:

I’d love to respond to your update in the form of a conversation—quoting you and reflecting on your words.

“Lovely to hear from you and thank you for checking up on me!” – And it’s truly lovely to hear back from you, Dafne!

“Me and the man I was seeing, we stopped our communication. He asked me in one of his text messages if I wanted him to be more successful, and I replied that if we were to be more than friends, then yes. He didn’t respond, and our chat ended there. I didn’t reach out again.”-

First, I couldn’t help but notice your wording—”more than fiends,” instead of friends. It could simply be a typo, but sometimes mistakes reveal hidden thoughts or emotions just beneath the surface. it’s as if the underlying emotion surfaced and swallowed the “r”.

Remember how we once compared him to a spider weaving a web, trying to pull you in? If anyone plays that role, it’s a fiend—not a friend.

Second, some people pose questions they know will lead to an answer they don’t like, giving them an excuse to walk away without confrontation. He may have already been considering ending communication and used this moment to step away. Since your communication stopped entirely after this exchange, it’s seems that he only wanted romantic involvement—and when that seemed complicated, he didn’t feel motivated to maintain a friendship.

“For him romantic connection was more important than staying friends for the time being.”- yes, like I wrote right above.

“I felt a bit guilty that I told him to be more successful as it might mean that I am materialistic and not person oriented. But then I realised that wanting someone honest, hard working and successful is not a sin and I need all those qualities in someone to compensate for a life I never had before.”-

I really admire the way you worked through your feelings and arrived at this realization. At first, you felt guilty, questioning whether your standards made you materialistic—but then you reframed it with clarity and confidence. Wanting honesty, hard work, and success in a partner isn’t about materialism—it’s about knowing what you need for the life you want to build.

It takes strength to recognize your worth and stand by your standards instead of doubting them. You’re not asking for something superficial—you’re asking for qualities that align with your values and the future you deserve. That’s a powerful shift in perspective, and it speaks to your self-awareness and growth.

“I felt a bit of a relief. I felt more free after the chat stopped. And look Anita it’s been almost 2 months and no news from him and I guess no progress with the project either. I could waste more time by just chatting and waiting.”-

I’m so glad to hear that you’re feeling a sense of relief and freedom now that the communication has stopped. That kind of clarity is powerful—it shows that you were right to trust your instincts and set a boundary rather than getting caught in endless waiting.

And look at where you are now! Almost two months later, you’re not stuck in uncertainty or wasting time on something that wasn’t serving you. Instead, you’ve taken that energy and turned it toward your own growth, focusing on yourself rather than someone who wasn’t ready to match your standards. That’s strength.

“So yes Anita, you helped me to make the right choice and now I’m focusing on dealing with my anxiety and fear. I still don’t know how to conquer the stagnation and helplessness in my current situation and finding a new place is not easy. But I hope I’ll get there..”-

It means so much to hear that I was able to support you in making the right choice. More importantly, you were the one who had the strength to take that step—choosing clarity over uncertainty, self-care over waiting. That takes courage, and you’ve shown it beautifully.

I hear you on the stagnation and helplessness. Those feelings can make moving forward feel like an uphill battle, especially when finding a new place is already overwhelming. But the fact that you hope you’ll get there tells me that you’re still holding onto progress—even in the moments that feel uncertain.

I wonder about the current situation with your mother and how it affects how you feel?

“Anita, I love your new picture! You’re beautiful outside & inside 😍”- thank you! This comment brought a 😁 to my face

“Thank you for being here for me like a guardian angel 😇”- If I can be a guardian angel in some way, then consider me honored—but you’re the one embracing growth and making choices that serve you. I’ll always be here to cheer you on and encourage you as you move forward.

Sending you support and light 💙😇

anita

Dear MissLDuchess:

Your reflections show just how much you have endured, and it’s clear how deeply you have thought about where you have been and where you are headed. Feeling like you don’t fully fit into any category—not quite aligning with autism or other labels—can be isolating, and the struggles with things like biking and driving (suggesting possible spatial awareness or motor coordination challenges related to NVLD) must add another layer of frustration.

The fear of opening up to people and getting hurt again makes total sense given your past experiences. It’s a harsh reality that not everyone is safe to be vulnerable with, and unfortunately, you have encountered people who misused your openness. That kind of pain doesn’t just fade overnight—it sticks.

At the same time, your resilience shines through. You haven’t given up on connection, even though trust is hard. Seeking NVLD counseling after graduation sounds like an important step, not just in understanding yourself better, but in navigating relationships in a way that protects your emotional well-being.

And then there’s the anger—the justified frustration at being treated with coldness, exclusion, and rejection. Those wounds don’t disappear just because time has passed, especially when they shaped key years of your life. But I do wonder—what would it look like for you to move forward without carrying the weight of those memories so heavily? Not forgetting them, not pretending they didn’t happen, but not allowing them to define your sense of worth in the present.

You have a lot to offer, and even though finding the right people hasn’t been easy, you’re still here—still reaching, still growing, still hoping. That means something. 🌻

anita