When Self-Awareness Becomes a Shield
By Bridget Hager, LICSW
There is a particular kind of woman I work with every day.
She is thoughtful. Insightful. High-functioning. She has read the books, listened to the podcasts, maybe even highlighted passages from Brené Brown and quoted Esther Perel over dinner with friends. She can name her attachment style, identify her trauma responses, and tell you exactly why she reacted the way she did in last night’s argument.
And yet, she is exhausted.
Because somewhere along the way, self-awareness quietly turned into self-monitoring. Reflection became over-filtering. Regulation became perfectionism in softer clothing.
Let’s talk about that.
The Performance of “Being Regulated”
There is a version of regulation that is deeply healthy: noticing your internal state, tending to it with care, responding rather than reacting.
And then there is the version that sounds like this:
“I’m not mad. I’m just activated.”
“I think my inner child is feeling abandoned.”
“I’m probably projecting.”
“It’s okay, I’ll process it.”
“I’m being dramatic.”
It’s therapy-speak. And it’s often sincere.
But for the over-functioning, insight-oriented millennial woman, it can become a sophisticated defense mechanism.
Instead of saying, “That hurt me.”
She says, “I’m noticing some old wounds coming up.”
Instead of crying and letting it land.
She narrates the crying.
Instead of staying in the discomfort of not knowing.
She wraps it in certainty: “But it’ll be fine.”
The nervous system stays tight. The body stays braced. The heart stays guarded, just in a very articulate way.
When Insight Protects You From Being Seen
Insight feels powerful. It gives shape to chaos. It creates distance from pain. It signals competence.
But Brené Brown reminds us that vulnerability is not about analysis, it’s about uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. It’s about being seen without controlling the narrative.
And that is terrifying.
Especially if you learned early that your role was to be the steady one. The capable one. The one who “gets it.” The one who doesn’t make a mess.
So you learned to monitor yourself closely:
Don’t say too much.
Don’t need too much.
Don’t feel too much.
Don’t burden anyone.
And if you do feel something raw?
Quickly contextualize it. Soften it. Reframe it. Add a bow on top.
“But all is well.”
That phrase alone has probably kept more women from true intimacy than we realize.
Over-Filtering as a Form of Perfectionism
Perfectionism is rarely loud in this population. It doesn’t always look like color-coded calendars or spotless kitchens.
It looks like:
Editing your emotional responses in real time.
Explaining your vulnerability before anyone can misunderstand it.
Punctuating a moment of honesty with self-deprecation.
Offering reassurance to others immediately after sharing something hard.
It’s emotional perfectionism.
A curated vulnerability.
You reveal but only the parts that are digestible. Polished. Insight-wrapped. Safely contained.
And here’s the paradox: the more you over-regulate your expression, the less connected you feel.
Because intimacy requires something messier.
The Gift of Being Witnessed
Esther Perel often speaks about the tension between autonomy and connection. True intimacy requires allowing someone to see parts of you that are unfinished, uncertain, even contradictory.
Not the processed version.
The live version.
The trembling voice.
The “I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard.”
The silence after you say something vulnerable and don’t immediately fill it.
What if your messiness isn’t a burden?
What if it’s an invitation?
When you let someone witness your unpolished emotion, without over-explaining, without minimizing, you offer them a rare gift: access to your humanity.
You also give them permission to drop their own performance.
Your tears do not create work for others.
Your confusion does not demand fixing.
Your unfinished business does not make you less lovable.
It makes you real.
Practicing Unfiltered Vulnerability
If you recognize yourself here, this is not an indictment of your insight. Your self-awareness is a strength. It has likely protected you, advanced you, sustained you.
But you might experiment with loosening the grip.
Try:
Sharing a feeling without the backstory.
Pausing before you add “but it’s fine.”
Letting a moment of silence exist after disclosure.
Not labeling your emotion immediately.
Resisting the urge to reassure others that you’re okay.
Say less.
Feel more.
Stay.
Notice the anxiety that rises when you don’t tidy up the moment. That anxiety is not proof you’re too much. It’s often proof that you’re stepping outside of an old role.
Your Humanity Is Not an Inconvenience
The women I write this for are competent, capable, deeply thoughtful. They have done the work.
But healing is not only about insight. It’s about integration. It’s about allowing the messy parts to live alongside the articulate ones.
You are allowed to be:
Brilliant and unsure.
Self-aware and overwhelmed.
Regulated and still deeply emotional.
Strong and visibly struggling.
Vulnerability is not a regression. It is a widening.
And the people who truly love you do not need your perfection. They need your presence.
Your unfinished sentences.
Your shaky exhale.
Your honest “I’m not sure.”
That is not dysfunction.
That is intimacy.
And it may be the bravest thing you offer.
