Have you ever noticed how the more uncertain or vulnerable we feel inside, the more we may try to present ourselves as completely “together” on the outside?

Sometimes, the people who feel the most needy appear the most self-reliant—and those who feel deeply shy can come across as aloof or disinterested. It’s a pattern I often witness in therapy, and if I’m being honest, it’s one I’ve seen in myself as well. (Sometimes I feel hurt or frustrated when I say something and don’t feel responded to—but I’ve also been told that I tend to hide or clean up my vulnerability in a way that makes it look like I’m not actually asking for anything.)

In trying to overcompensate for our insecurities or prove ourselves to others, we sometimes build a self that leans on being admired, seeming strong, being competent, and appearing in control. It’s not about ego or arrogance—it’s about survival. It’s how we protect ourselves from the fear of being seen as lacking or too needy, or from feeling exposed as damaged, inadequate, or weak.

Yet connection requires showing our soft spots. And if we’ve learned somewhere along the way that appearing needy or weak is dangerous—or that love has to be earned by being impressive—then letting down our guard can feel unsafe. We may show off a self to the world that belies what we’re really looking for.

People who do this often struggle to ask for help, feel ashamed of doubt or insecurity, and rely on performance, perfection, or charisma to feel worthwhile—rather than being emotionally real and present. They may have difficulty tolerating “not knowing,” or simply being ordinary or “boring.”

But this stance doesn’t mean someone is cold. Often, it’s the opposite—it reflects a deep longing to be seen, held, and valued not for what we do or prove, but simply for who we are.

Therapy can offer a space to gradually test the waters. To see what it’s like to be seen when we’re not performing. To discover that our value isn’t in how pulled-together we look—but in our realness, our messiness, our vulnerability.

Sometimes, the greatest act of courage is to let someone see us when we’re not impressive. When we don’t have the answer. When we need.

Real connection isn’t about standing tall—it’s about letting yourself be held, exactly where you are.