In my family, crying was an embarrassment. We were not allowed to cry, even when in pain. We always had to be strong or at least put a facade that we were strong. Strong people don't cry, at least in public.
Expressions of emotions were strongly discouraged. We learnt to contain our emotions in our young hearts and minds. We learnt to build walls around ourselves so we didn't get deceived by false public empathy. We learnt to lie to others as well as ourselves. We believed things were alright even though things were clearly not.
Back then, my parents didn't know the detrimental effects of such an upbringing onto their children. They, like most parents, thought that what they were doing were of the best interests for their children. They, like most parents, thought they knew best.
It's pointless now for me to blame my lack of social competence or resilience on their ignorance. They would still think they were right. Even when I needed treatment for depression, they would still think they had brought me up right. They would just fault me on my weakness.
I didn't have close friends because friends were distractions in my parents's pursuit of my academic and economic excellence. I was very socially awkward and had to learn social graces from books and general observations. I was a misfit, not fitting any social circles, not even the awkward children group. Even now as a parent myself, I'm still socially awkward.
I cry silently. The only clue that I've been crying is my puffy eyes in the morning. Even when I'm crying, I find myself angry at myself for crying. Where is my self-control? I should not have any reason to subject myself to such a pathetic display.
I'm not looking for attention, nor empathy. I definitely don't want your pity nor mockery. I don't need you to fix whatever that's wrong with me. Nobody can fix me.