I still go younger

Dear Delyara, I know I’m an adult. I know my own life. I know what I’ve survived. And still, certain conversations with my parents can pull me into a younger, more apologetic, more self-doubting version of myself before I even realise I’ve left the room I was just standing in. That shift humbles me in the wrong way. Not toward wisdom. Toward shame. I hate that those old emotional doorways still open so easily in the body. I hate that knowledge is not always enough to stop them.