Scared of Letting People In

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Scared Of Loving

 Living with fibromyalgia doesn’t just live in my body—it lives in my mind, my heart, and the way I move through the world. It changes a person. It changed me.


I’ve always been an introvert, but chronic pain added another layer of caution. Meeting new people now feels heavy. Making friends has never been easy, because I don’t open up to strangers unless I feel safe, unless something in my spirit says this person won’t hurt me. That instinct wasn’t born out of shyness—it was born out of experience.


I was stabbed too many times in the back by people I once called friends. Not physically, but emotionally, deeply. They were the kind of friends who stayed only when it benefited them. When my pain was inconvenient, when my energy was low, when my idea of a good day didn’t involve what they found exciting, I became “boring” to them. So I walked away. Years ago, I cut them out of my life—not out of anger, but out of self-preservation.

Still, the questions linger.

Am I a boring person?

Am I a boring friend?

A boring wife?

A boring furry mom?


Sometimes it doesn’t feel glamorous to be me. I don’t always have the energy for loud plans or constant motion. Some days, just getting through the day is the achievement. Fibromyalgia has taught me to find joy in quiet moments, in comfort, in stillness—and not everyone understands that.


People came and went so easily. Easy come, easy go. They passed through my heart as if it was a joke, as if my trust was disposable. I left their lives quietly, and they laughed, or didn’t notice at all. But what they didn’t see was the strength it took to choose myself.


I’ve learned something important, though: being gentle doesn’t mean being boring. Needing rest doesn’t mean I lack depth. Loving slowly doesn’t mean I love less. It means I love carefully.


Sometimes I catch myself scared of loving at all. Scared of Losing You by Selena Gomez plays in my head like a quiet confession—the fear that if I let someone in, they’ll leave once they see the real me, the tired me, the version shaped by pain. I want connection, but I’m afraid of the goodbye that might follow. Fibromyalgia teaches you loss in slow motion, and my heart has learned to brace itself even when it wants to hold on.


I will never again give my heart to someone who cares for no one but themselves. I’m done shrinking my world to entertain people who never tried to understand mine. Fibromyalgia may have changed me, but it also revealed who was never meant to stay.

I am not boring.

I am thoughtful.

I am loyal.

I am soft in a world that demands hardness.

And if that scares people away, maybe they were never meant to love me anyway.

https://x.com/FlareflourishF 

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