I'm working on a psychological model of how people store and use pain. I'm using a metaphor approach in order to make an emotional connection to clients. The attachment is the first archetype of 8 for that model. The Narrative and exit sections are meant to evoke emotion such as sorrow, sadness, pain, sympathy, etc.. Can you critique those sections of the attached doc from both a literary and psychological standpoint?

SEAS Pain Storage Archetype Profile

The Tangled Nets

Theme

Wounded Empathy through Non-Reciprocation — The Loneliness of Deep Care Unmet

Narrative Metaphor

Imagine a sprawling, dimly lit wharf along a craggy coastline, filled with an endless tangle of colorful, textured fishing nets—each strand a different hue, texture, and length, woven together in a chaotic yet deeply interconnected web. This is my dynamic, ever-evolving space where every net carries its own story, memory, or connection.

The wharf didn’t begin as a chaotic mess. It started small, with just a few nets representing my early childhood memories, family dynamics, and formative relationships. But over time, it grew exponentially, shaped by the disparity between my profound empathetic sensitivity and the lesser empathetic capabilities of those around me.

Growing up and living among people who struggled to understand or match my emotional depth meant I absorbed more than my share of pain and complexity. Each interaction added another piece of net, each unresolved emotion left behind like a loose end waiting to be tied.
I’ve always felt what others felt—sometimes before they even knew they were feeling it. My empathy isn't something I do. It's who I am. I listen. I hold space. I comfort. I help. And then they leave.

Each net represents someone I’ve helped. Not their pain—my own. The pain left behind after they took what they needed and walked away. The grief of not being seen. The ache of realizing they didn’t notice me the way I noticed them. That they didn’t want to hold my pain the way I held theirs.

I don’t regret helping. I never do. But it hurts—every time. And that pain stays.

Nets that represent the intimate connections I’ve formed over the years are interwoven. Each new relationship adds a vibrant hue, but some nets are frayed or tangled, reflecting the challenges of navigating empathy imbalances in partnerships. I give all of myself to the weaving. But no one stays to weave with me.

A strong but malleable net that defines who I am—my self-worth—runs through the center of the wharf. It bends under the weight of unanswered compassion.

The wharf is not organized like a library or archive; it is a labyrinth of connections. Every piece of net is linked to another, creating a web so intricate that pulling one thread can set off a ripple effect throughout the entire structure.

Everyone can enter the wharf, and those who do find comfort, understanding, and support. Those who enter are welcome, wanted, and needed to stay, but none do stay for very long. They never see or feel anything but a dilapidated old wharf as they leave me with my pain.

At the end of each piece of net sits a buzzing little gremlin soldier, holding a pointy electric prod. These gremlins are doing what they were designed to do: keep the pain alive. Each jab from the prod sends a shockwave through the wharf, amplifying the intensity of the emotion stored in that particular net. The sharp sting of being misread. The silence that follows care unreturned.

With each new piece of pain net entering the wharf, a buzzing Gremlin Commander is perched on its end. This commander rallies the gremlin soldiers stationed along the affected nets. He pulls a single piece of net and the gremlin soldiers at the ends of connected nets spring into action. They jab faster and harder, sending vibrations rippling through the wharf, ensuring that the pain is amplified and sustained.

Every time someone I love doesn’t ask how I am, doesn’t see that I’m hurting, another gremlin wakes up. Another sting hits the web. The gremlins’ relentless jabbing ensures damage to my self-worth is perpetuated. The wharf is filled with interconnected nets, making it difficult to isolate and heal specific wounds, reinforcing this vulnerability. Ensuring that my self-doubt remains alive.

This network ensures that even a small hurt triggers old wounds. The pain loops back through my own history—not because of what they carried, but because of what they refused to carry with me.

The eternal buzz within the wharf is the sound of all these gremlins working overtime. It’s a constant reminder of the emotional weight I carry, a buzz that never fully subsides.

The buzz underscores the toll that my empathetic nature takes on my mental and emotional well-being.

The wharf becomes a battleground where my empathetic nature is both my strength and my undoing. As if the wharf is growing heavier with unprocessed emotions that no one else seems to notice or care about.

Exit Path

I don’t need to cut every net. I need to weave one that’s mine. I can choose which connections I carry and which I release. The path begins with permission—not to fix, not to absorb, not to explain. Just to be. Someone beside me doesn’t need to untangle the nets. They only need to witness them. That’s where space begins.

Exit Barrier

I’ve mistaken empathy for obligation. I’ve believed that if I stop giving, I’ll stop being. Letting go feels like failure. Asking for care feels like risk. I fear that if I stop weaving others into my world, no one will choose to stay.

Relational Signature

In relationships, I love first. I help first. I see you before you ask. I feel you before you speak. And I give—without asking, without hesitation, without conditions. But when I’m hurting, when I need someone to see me, the silence is unbearable. I don’t understand why you can’t feel me the way I feel you. I don’t want payback—I want presence. I want to know I matter. I keep weaving, hoping someone will stay. Hoping someone will say: I see you too.