For years, I walked around with a knot in my stomach and a story in my head: “People just don’t get me.”

Clients would pour their hearts out in my office, and I could see patterns and needs so clearly for them. But at home? In friendships? I’d leave conversations feeling like I’d spoken Greek while everyone else nodded in English.

It wasn’t one dramatic moment that changed things. It was a slow, humbling audit of my own habits, histories, and nervous system. Here are the nine truths I finally owned—truths that loosened the knot, softened my voice, and helped me be known.

(If you’ve been here too, I hope these help you find your footing, and your voice.)

1. I was expecting mind reading, not practicing clarity

I used to hint. I’d say I was “fine,” then sulk because no one followed the breadcrumbs to my real needs.

Brené Brown’s reminder hit me square between the eyes: “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind.” When I replaced hints with plain language—“I need reassurance right now,” “I won’t make that deadline,”—I stopped resenting people for failing tests they didn’t know they were taking.

Try this micro-shift: before a tough conversation, write down the one sentence you actually want to say.

Then, say that.

2. My conflict style was avoidant—and that looked like indifference

Growing up, I learned to keep the peace by disappearing. In adult relationships, that looked like “I need space” followed by three days of silence.

Avoidant strategies—pulling back, minimizing needs, downplaying hurt—aren’t cruelty; they’re old protection.

The folks at Choosing Therapy stand behind this, noting that avoidant attachment often forms early and shows up as discomfort with emotional closeness in adulthood—and that it can be changed with intention and support.

These days I still take space when I’m flooded, but I name it and time-box it: “I’m overwhelmed. I’ll take an hour to regulate and then come back to you.” That one sentence communicates care instead of retreat.

3. I’m a highly sensitive person—and that’s not a flaw

Loud restaurants felt like battlefields. After long days of sessions, I’d need a dark room and a cup of tea. I judged this as “too much.”

Then I learned about sensory processing sensitivity and the trait often called “high sensitivity.”

The pros over at Verywell Mind back this up, saying roughly 20% of people process stimuli more deeply and can be more easily overstimulated—and that sensitivity comes with gifts like empathy and attunement.

Owning this changed the script. I stopped apologizing for needing quiet and started planning for it. I still go to the party, but I drive my own car. I still love people, and I fiercely protect the nervous system that lets me love them well.

4. I process slowly and speak better after I’ve thought

Have you ever watched your brain load like a buffering video while someone asks, “Well? What do you think?” Same. I used to force quick takes and then feel misrepresented by my own words.

Introverts (and many ambiverts) often think before speaking and prefer depth over rapid exchange.

You might have read my post on slowing down to speed up in conversations; the gist holds here too. I started responding with, “I need a minute to gather my thoughts,” or, “Can I send you a note after I reflect?”

Paradoxically, letting myself be slower made people understand me faster.

5. My body language contradicted my words

Once, during a tense discussion with my partner, I said, “I’m open to hearing your side,” while my arms were crossed, jaw tight, eyes somewhere near the ceiling fan.

He didn’t hear openness—he saw shutdown.

Daniel Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence highlights that we intuit others through nonverbal channels—tone, gesture, facial expression—far more than the literal words. When I started unclenching my jaw, softening my tone, and aligning posture with intention, the whole vibe shifted.

A simple cue I still use: uncross, exhale, look at the person—then speak.

6. I confused agreement with feeling seen

Can you relate? I thought I needed people to agree with me to feel understood. If they offered a different perspective, I took it as invalidation.

The crew at Psychology Today has highlighted that meaning is shaped by context and culture, and that nonverbal and verbal signals can be interpreted in different ways—so aiming for perfect alignment is a recipe for friction.

What I really needed wasn’t agreement; it was acknowledgment: “I hear your point and your feelings make sense to me.”

Learning to explicitly ask for reflection—“Could you mirror back what you heard?”—changed my relationships.

7. I had an unspoken rulebook no one else had read

I carried around quiet “shoulds”: If you love me, you’ll text back within an hour; friends drop everything when there’s a crisis; family never raises voices.

Reasonable? Maybe. Clear? Not at all.

Shared expectations are built, not assumed. One helpful framework comes from the language of care and reassurance.

The folks at Healthline point out that people express and receive love in different ways—words, time, service, touch, gifts—and knowing your preferences (and your partner’s) reduces misinterpretations. Once my partner and I named our top “care signals,” the misses dropped dramatically.

We also made our own “user manuals”: a one-page summary of How To Be On My Team. It’s nerdy. It works.

8. My values weren’t visible, so my decisions looked erratic

Values are the compass we expect others to follow—but if we never show the compass, our choices seem random.

I value integrity, calm, and stewardship (in life and in the sustainable choices I write about for Eluxe). When I started saying, “I’m choosing the slower option because calm matters to me,” or, “I’m declining this sponsor because sustainability is non-negotiable,” people stopped questioning my motives and started trusting my map.

Want a quick exercise? Write your top five values on a sticky note. For each, list one visible behavior that communicates it without words.

Then do those things, consistently.

9. I belonged to other people’s opinions more than to myself

This one probably deserved a higher spot on the list.

For years I outsourced my self-concept to whoever was loudest in the room. If they misunderstood me, I scrambled to fix their perception. Exhausting.

At the end of the day, the only stable belonging is the one you cultivate with yourself. Maya Angelou spoke often about belonging to yourself first—about finding freedom in that inner home.

When I began measuring my days by alignment rather than approval, the misunderstandings around me mattered less, and my relationships actually got clearer and kinder.

Here’s the ripple effect of these nine realizations:

I make fewer speeches and ask more questions.

I bring my whole nervous system to the table: rested, resourced, respected.

I communicate earlier, simpler, and with more gentleness.

And when someone still doesn’t get me—which happens—I know that’s part of being human, not a verdict on my worth.

If you want to put this into practice this week, try these tiny experiments:

• Before your next hard conversation, write the one sentence you truly want to say. Then say it. (Hat tip to Brené Brown for the nudge toward clarity.)

• When you feel yourself retreating, time-box it: “I need 20 minutes to reset. I’ll circle back at 3 pm.” You’ll feel safer, and so will they.

• If your senses are frayed, plan one “sensitivity-friendly” choice a day—noise-cancelling headphones, a quiet lunch, a walk without your phone. You’re not asking too much; you’re meeting a real need.

• Trade assumptions for agreements. Ask one person in your life, “What are your top two ways you feel most cared for?” Then share yours.

• Align your body with your words: soften your jaw, relax your shoulders, keep your voice low and slow. Watch how quickly safety enters the room.

Final thoughts

Feeling “misunderstood” used to be my identity. Now it’s just a signal—an invitation to slow down, get clearer, and come home to myself.

If you’re carrying that knot in your stomach too, start with the gentlest step. Pick one realization from this list and practice it for a week. Then another. You don’t have to micromanage other people’s perceptions when you’re anchored in your own truth.

And if you need a companion on the path, I wrote Breaking The Attachment: How To Overcome Codependency in Your Relationship to help you release old patterns and practice new, kinder ones in love and life.