But if it was true that I was hiding, what was I frightened of? I was frightened of other people’s judgments of me, and to avoid this I avoided them. The thought that anyone would like me was a dangerous thought, perhaps the most dangerous one for me. It never occurred to me, I didn’t dare think it. I didn’t even think that Mom might actually like me. Or Yngve or Linda. I assumed they didn’t, not really, but that the social and family bonds we were entangled in nonetheless meant that they had to see me and listen to what I had to say.
