I'm weird about it.
I like talking about my ->-bleeped-<- in ... idk, almost a performance kind of way? I'll over-share the hell out of my problems here or on other blogging platforms: big ol' overwrought confessions, where every little baby feeling leaks out and I boo-hoo my way to emotional catharsis. That's my jam. I've got it down to an art form. It's scripted, but not disingenuous. I just need the control over what gets shared and what doesn't.
And most importantly, y'all are strangers. I couldn't give less of a damn about talking in front of you guys -- or any randos, really. Feels great. Feels safe. You don't know me, so I ain't threatened.
Talking in front of people who know me? Friends, family, whatever? No. Off-limits. Best case, they learn that I'm an ->-bleeped-<-/loser/wimp/"hurting" and they're sympathetic about it. Worst case is, and lord knows this happens more than anything else, they get more upset than I was, and now not only is my problem still there, but also I've gotta spend all my "fix/deal with this" energy on consoling them and reassuring them I'm fine. If the forces of the universe really want to punish me, I'll get cancer or something. Not 'cause of the physical stuff, but because every minute of my life would be devoted to swaddling the people around me while I quietly puke up my guts behind the scenes.
I don't like sad people and I'm a life-long mediator. I'm sensitive to other people's distress, and I feel strongly that it's my job to solve the unhappiness, whatever the source. I'm also really friggin selfish. If I need help, I'll ask for it, but 9 times out of 10, there's nothing they can do! Why bother telling them when my misery does not appreciate their company? Like, ultimately, I'm upset when other people are upset, and I just don't have the energy to deal with that anymore. Not when I can just shut up and spare myself the exhaustion.