There’s a core belief many of us didn’t choose, but learned early: “I am lovable if…”
If I’m productive.
If I’m “strong,” not emotional.
If I’m healing “the right way at the right pace.”
If I don’t ask for too much or take up too much space.
If I can explain my pain clearly enough to justify it.
In other words, love is conditional. The conditions: be less you, feel less, and ask for less. With time, all the ifs teach you that love is something you earn if and only when you prove you’re worthy of it.
These lessons aren’t always explicit. Sometimes it shows up as praise for resilience or attention only when you’re achieving or silence when you’re struggling.
Looking back, I spent years auditioning to be loved instead of feeling loved.
“I am proud of you” was assigned to…
Straight As. Anything less resulted in all the things you aren’t doing right. When I was 14, I broke my nose and had a concussion. At school, I had a word problem algebra test the next day and could not focus. It was the only test I scored lower than 95% that year. I was yelled at for failing instead of given resources to help me pass.
Pushing through broken bones. When I was 15, I tore 8 ligaments between both ankles. I couldn’t stand up without my ankles shaking and giving out. My cheer coach turned to me and yelled, “I never should have let you on my team.” I ended up being forced to compete just an hour after my ligaments tore. They taped up my ankles and put a sturdy brace on each ankle so they could not give out. I tumbled and based on ankles that needed surgery. Over a decade later, my ankles still shake when I try to stand on one foot, they get stiff and pop, and I feel pain when trying to be active.
Not crying. When I was 20, my grandfather passed away. He was one of my best friends and my world shattered. I couldn’t stop crying. My uncle got in my face and yelled at me. He told me that everyone looked to me to see how to react, so I need to pull it together and stop crying.
Who I Learned To Be To Be Loved
It wasn’t until much later that I realized, we learn quickly which versions of ourselves get welcomed.
The resilient one.
The insightful one.
The one who “handles it well.”
The one who turns pain into something useful.
For years, when I was working extreme hours to produce “enough” content, I felt exhausted and thought it was a sign of success. The praise that came with achievement that others considered impressive and the silence that followed expected achievements, taught me that less sleep and more work meant I was valuable. And valuable meant I was worthy of love.
In October when I collapsed and broke and detached two ribs, I spoke at an event 12 hours later before getting checked out. It hurt to smile and walk, yet I was carrying books to an event and smiling for pictures. I was told by others to suck it up and my pain was dismissed as not enough to be serious. The expectation to keep going and dismissal of pain taught me that smiling through pain meant I was performing properly. And performing properly meant I was worthy of love.
Being the “strong one” and feeling pressure to be okay reinforced that love was conditional and I had to work harder to earn it. This entire time, I thought I was surviving and being responsible. I believed this was what strength looked like: self-abandonment. But strength that requires self-abandonment isn’t strength.
It took me a long time to realize that conditional love isn’t actually love, it’s a rulebook.
Allowing Love Without Proof
That belief followed me into adulthood. No one teaches us how to be with the version of ourselves who is tired, unsure, unmotivated, or quiet. The version that doesn’t bounce back and that others don’t define as inspiring. This year, I’ve chosen to reject everything I was taught about love and rewrite the phrases that once forced me to reject myself.
You do not lose worth when you stop performing.
You do not become less lovable when you need rest.
You do not owe the world resilience or endurance to deserve care.
Many of us learned to explain ourselves before accepting kindness.
We offer context and justify our pain. We rush to clarify that we’re “not usually like this.”
I heard a quote that said “What you’re not changing, you’re choosing.” I realized I was choosing to keep abandoning myself and, at some point, I had to stop doing that. I had to stop over-explaining, asking for permission to need help, and justifying my feelings.
My job was not to convince anyone I was worthy of care. It is my job to offer care and compassion to myself.
It wasn’t my responsibility to soften my needs to make them acceptable. It is my responsibility to ask for what I need and be willing to show up for myself.
My role in my relationships was not to overextend myself and do things for others to earn value. My role in my relationships is to be me and build relationships that allow me to feel valued because I exist not because I perform.
I didn’t need to shrink myself to be loved. I needed to love myself.
What I’m Choosing
I carried this idea that I was unlovable if I didn’t choose everything over myself longer than I want to admit. The messaging around love doesn’t usually tell us to hate ourselves. It tells us to slowly disappear and morph into expectations. It teaches us to numb, over-function, apologize for existing and ultimately become smaller so no one has to deal with us.
Today, I’m still learning to let go of the belief that people will only love me if I am valuable to them. I’m learning to release the fear of rejection and being alone. If I’m alone with myself and I love myself, I will never feel alone. I’m learning that love doesn’t mean changing, fixing, producing, or justifying.
I’m teaching myself that I don’t need to earn my place in my own life.
All parts of me are allowed to exist and no parts of me take away my value. Love is not earned. Love is not a prize. Love is given and received. Self-love is the practice of choosing yourself instead of abandoning yourself.
This year, I’m not working toward being more lovable. I’m practicing believing I already am.
I’m done auditioning for love. I’m not waiting to be chosen, I’m choosing myself.
