You know that moment when you’ve found someone you’d really like to connect with, but you can’t quite bring yourself to send the message?
You’ve read something they wrote and felt that little spark of recognition. You have something you’d like to say. Maybe you can imagine a conversation, a shared interest, or the relief of meeting someone who understands the work you’re trying to do.
You open a message and start typing. For a moment, you feel excited. Then you read it back and begin wondering how it will land. Why would they want to hear from you? Does this sound like you’re trying to sell something? You delete a sentence, soften another, and read the whole thing again.
Your cursor hovers over Send. You picture them opening it, and suddenly the words feel too personal. You close the window. You’ll come back when you know what to say.
There’s relief in closing it. There’s disappointment, too. You wanted to make that connection, and now you’re back on your own with everything you wished you could have said.
For those of us living with the effects of complex trauma, that can be a familiar tension. We want to connect and be seen, while also wanting to pull back somewhere we feel less exposed. When we’re building a business, we may find ourselves meeting that tension every time we try to reach beyond the work we can do on our own.
Before We Go Further, Let Me Introduce Myself
I’m Cyndi Bennett, a trauma-informed career coach and Founder of the Resilient Career Academy.
I help professionals who have experienced complex trauma and CPTSD understand what’s holding them back at work and build careers they’re proud of.
That work includes the relationships we build along the way. Whether we’re working within an organization or building a business, connecting with others can open up possibilities, offer encouragement, and help us feel less alone. It can also bring us face to face with how vulnerable it feels to let someone know us.
Lately, I’ve been experiencing that tension myself. I want to reach out, take an interest in others, and make room for people to know me. And sometimes, as that connection becomes possible, I also want to pull back and hide.
It leaves me wondering:
How do we make room for the connection we want while honoring the part of us that wants to feel safe?
Where My Connection Quest Began
This whole connection quest started in an email marketing workshop. We were learning how to notice where someone might be in their buyer journey by paying attention to their reading behavior. What were they reading? What were they interested in?
Then came the suggestion to “just reach out.” Create a connection. Have a dialogue.
I could see the possibility in that. There are people reading what I write, and I’d like to know them. I’m curious about what brought them here, what resonates with them, and what matters in their lives. But as I imagined opening a message, I found myself thinking, “What do I even say? How do I do that without seeming creepy?”
As entrepreneurs, we receive messages from people offering to help us grow our businesses all the time. We haven’t asked for their help, but they arrive with an offer, a promise, or an assessment of what we need. Sometimes we can feel the sales conversation beginning before we’ve agreed to have one.
For some trauma survivors, that attention can feel predatory. Someone has noticed us, decided we need something from them, and begun moving closer. We may find ourselves wondering what they know about us, what they want, and how persistent they’ll become if we don’t respond.
So when the advice in the workshop was to “just reach out,” those messages were part of what came to mind. I know how it can feel to be on the receiving end. What if I make someone else feel watched? What if they think my interest in them is the beginning of a sales pitch?
And because we were talking about noticing reading behavior, the question became even harder. Someone had quietly chosen to read what I’d written. How could I approach them in a way that respected that choice and their privacy?
Now there were two concerns tangled together. I was afraid of being rejected, and I was afraid of making someone else uncomfortable. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweating, and the words were disappearing beneath all the questions. “Just reach out” had become a moment of trying to protect both of us before a conversation had even begun.
What We Bring Into the Conversation
As I thought about it, I realized this reached beyond the people who subscribe to my publication. There are people whose publications I subscribe to whom I’d like to know, too. I read something that moves me or makes me curious, and I want to respond. Yet I can feel that same hesitation when I consider making myself known.
For some of us, reaching toward another person carries memories of what happened when we tried before. We may have offered a thought, asked for attention, or shared something that mattered to us, only to be rejected or punished.
Perhaps we were told we were too much. Perhaps nobody said those words, but we learned to recognize the sigh, the look, or the change in someone’s voice when they’d had enough of us.
Those experiences can come into the message window with us. We may start editing ourselves before we’ve written anything, trying to work out how much interest, enthusiasm, or honesty will be welcome.
We might think of that urge to retreat as “turtling.” We pull back, cover up, and wait until we feel less exposed. There can be comfort in withdrawing, even as we wish we could join the conversation.
Making Room for Each Other
Connection involves another person with their own curiosity, experiences, hopes, and limits. We want to learn about them, and there may be things they’d enjoy learning about us.
That mutual interest can be surprisingly difficult to make room for. Some of us are practiced at asking questions, offering encouragement, and noticing what another person needs. When they turn toward us and ask about our work or our experience, we may suddenly feel exposed.
We might give a brief answer and quickly ask another question. Later, we realize we left knowing a great deal about them while giving them very little opportunity to know us.
There may also be times when we’re so worried about how we’re coming across that it becomes difficult to take in what they’re saying. We’re listening while rehearsing our response, checking their expression, or wondering whether we should have stayed quiet.
It can take time to find room for both people. We might share why a piece of their writing stayed with us, then listen to what it meant for them to write it. They might ask about something we’ve mentioned, and we can consider letting our answer take up a little space.
Across those exchanges, we begin discovering whether we both feel able to speak, listen, and be known.
When Someone New Steps Into Our World
Sometimes the opportunity for connection begins when someone subscribes to our publication. We see a new name and feel glad they’re here. We’d like to welcome them, but then we’re back in that familiar place, wondering what to say and whether a personal message would feel intrusive.
It may help to imagine ourselves on the other side. We’ve found someone whose words resonate with us and decided we’d like to hear more. How would we like to be received? What kind of welcome would help us feel comfortable being there?
Perhaps we’d appreciate a simple acknowledgment. Someone is glad we arrived. They tell us a little about the space we’ve stepped into and offer an opening for conversation whenever we feel ready. We can settle in, read, and decide how we’d like to participate.
That gives us somewhere to begin when we welcome someone into our own world. We might thank them for subscribing, share what we hope they’ll find here, and ask a question we’re genuinely interested in hearing their answer to.
“I’m glad you’re here. I write about how complex trauma can follow us into our working lives, and how we can build careers that make room for us. If you feel like sharing, what brought you here?”
There’s room in that invitation for someone who has a lot to say and someone who is still finding their words. We may remember how much courage it can take to answer a question like that ourselves.
Thinking about the welcome we’d appreciate can help us find our own words. We know something about wanting to belong while needing time to feel comfortable. We can bring that understanding to the way we receive someone new.
Giving Connection Time to Develop
I keep coming back to what first made me want to reach out. What caught my attention about this person? What am I curious about? Is there something I’d like to share that belongs in this conversation?
For someone whose work we read, a beginning might be a thoughtful comment about a particular idea. For the people reading our own work, we might offer an invitation to reply or ask a question they can choose to engage with. Their response gives us somewhere to begin.
As a conversation develops, we have time to notice how it feels. Can we answer at our own pace? Does the other person show interest? Do we feel comfortable expressing a preference or bringing the conversation to a close?
We also have an opportunity to offer those things ourselves. We can leave room for an unanswered message, respect someone’s limits, and let their interest guide whether the conversation continues.
The possibility of rejection may still feel painful. Someone’s kindness may take a while to settle in, too. We can feel glad they responded and still need a moment before we find our next words.
Remembering Why We Wanted to Reach Out
For an entrepreneur working alone, a conversation can change how the day feels. Someone asks a question that helps us think differently. We hear about a challenge they’re facing and recognize something we’ve experienced. Perhaps we have an idea to offer, or their perspective helps us see an option we had missed.
Over time, we may begin remembering what matters to each other. We wonder how their project went. They ask about something we mentioned last time. We find ourselves looking forward to hearing from them.
That’s part of what I’m hoping for on this connection quest. I want to get to know the people behind the names, the publications, and the work. I want to discover what we might learn from each other and allow myself to participate in those relationships, even when reaching out brings up more than I expected.
Perhaps some of us are looking at an unfinished message right now. There was something we wanted to say before the questions became so loud. If it feels safe enough, we might return to that first spark of interest and consider sharing a little of it.
When we think about connecting with others, which feels more difficult right now: reaching out, allowing ourselves to be known, or trusting that there will be room for both people?
You’re welcome to reply to this email or share in the comments below. I’d love to hear what this brings up for you.