A growing concern of mine recently is my lack of hobbies/friends. I barely have a social life (I literally only hang out with my boyfriend +his friends since I live with him) and I’m honestly okay with that because social interaction usually causes me anxiety. Before I lived with my boyfriend, I lived in an apartment with one other roommate where I would isolate myself entirely with the exception of going to work or the liquor store. When introduced to new people I usually panic and hope they aren’t repulsed by me or focusing on any of my flaws that I obsess over. I also tend to overthink and scan my immediate environment for clues on how people feel at the moment. I think it’s because I’m so used to reading people’s faces, tones, etc. for any signs of danger/anger etc. I came from a household that was always loud, no privacy whatsoever, there was some sort of violence/abuse daily, neglect, gaslighting, the works. I wasn’t allowed to express myself and any time I tried to I was punished (beaten), ridiculed, berated, and shunned. Anything that strayed from the image of a holy good Christian girl who lived to pray and worship was condemned and if I had a nickel for every time I was told I was going to burn in hell I’d be able to afford decent therapy. Growing up I wasn’t allowed to have friends, leave the house, or do anything that wasn’t church or school related. I wasn’t even allowed to walk down the street to a store if I needed anything even if it was pads, let alone go out into our backyard alone, and my mom also installed metal bars on all of our windows. She would also check my phone at random and go through my belongings whenever she wanted. Fast forward to now- I’ve escaped from that literal hellhole and I now live happily with my boyfriend. I left my parents’ house at 20 (I’m 25 now and have been NC with them since then) so now that I’m in a safe, calm, respectful environment I can finally process the shitstorm that’s been haunting me for years. One of those issues that I’m focusing on now is my apparent lack of sense of self. I struggle with identity issues and don’t know who I am most days. Because I was so used to putting on the mask/image that everyone (aka my abusive parents) wanted to see, I never was able to let the “real me” come out and it saddens me. I pretty much do everything that my boyfriend does or finds fun (which I genuinely think is fun, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just not “me” if that makes sense), and 99% of the time whenever I’m asked what my preference is (like movies, what to eat, activities, pretty much anything that requires a decision) I say I don’t know because I genuinely don’t know. I’m used to only doing things for the approval of everyone but myself. I’m so used to being a puppet/servant/tap dancing monkey for my parents that I don’t know who the fuck I am or what I want in life. Which is scary because what the fuck do you do with no direction? I’m good at a few things like drawing, singing, and writing poetry, but I have no motivation most days or desire to do those things, plus I get fed up if I mess up or I just feel like it’s pointless because I’m not going to do anything with it. I’m sorry if this was a long ass rant. Does anyone else get what I mean?