Until 6 years ago, I carried a belief that I was not worthy of love. I believed that relationships were inherently unstable and unbalanced, and that it was normal for me to give a lot more than I received.
This perspective wasn’t born out of thin air; it was a complex interplay of past experiences, societal influences, and family dynamics.
From a young age, I witnessed relationships around me that seemed to confirm this belief. Whether in movies, TV shows, or even real-life situations, the narrative often revolved around the sacrifice of one’s own happiness for the sake of love. I internalized the idea that love required me to be the giver, the one who bent over backward to meet the needs of others, while expecting little in return.
However, what influenced me the most was the dynamics within my own family.
My childhood memories are dotted with brief instances of affection and care, but these were often overshadowed by emotional turbulence and conditional love. Love, it seemed, was granted when I met certain expectations, excelled academically, or behaved in ways that aligned with my parents’ desires. But when I fell short or made mistakes, love was withdrawn or made to feel precarious.