It took me 45 years to realize something that had been staring me in the face the entire time:
Neither of my parents ever figured out how to love me.
That’s a painful truth to admit. For most of my life, I tried to explain it away—telling myself I was too sensitive, too needy, too emotional. I thought maybe if I just worked harder, behaved better, or became more “successful,” they’d finally see me, appreciate me, love me the way I longed to be loved.
But deep down, something never felt right. I was surrounded by people, yet felt invisible. I often craved affection and attention, yet when it came, I would shrink away or sabotage it.
Why?
The Confusing Cycle of Craving and Avoiding Love
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This is a pattern I couldn’t understand for years. I’d find myself yearning for closeness, connection, and affirmation—but the moment someone offered me love or kindness, I felt uncomfortable. I’d either dismiss it, question their motives, or push them away emotionally.
It was frustrating. Why would someone who longed to be loved reject the very thing they desired?
Over time—and through a lot of prayer, reflection, and personal healing—I began to uncover the truth: when you grow up with love that feels conditional, inconsistent, or emotionally absent, you start to believe that love is dangerous. That it’s something you must earn, that it’s tied to performance or perfection, or that it will be withdrawn the moment you truly need it.
You learn to expect abandonment, rejection, or disappointment. So even when healthy love shows up, your nervous system doesn’t recognize it as safe—it sees it as a threat.
Love Wasn’t Modeled Well
I don’t share this to villainize either of my parents. I believe they did the best they could with the tools they had. But the truth remains: they didn’t know how to love me well. And whether that was due to their own wounds, limitations, or emotional immaturity, the impact on my heart was still real.
I wasn’t affirmed emotionally. I wasn’t comforted in my pain. I wasn’t celebrated for who I was—only tolerated when I was quiet or compliant. My needs felt like inconveniences. My feelings were dismissed or minimized. And so, I learned to suppress them.
That suppression followed me into adulthood. I became the strong one. The independent one. The one who didn’t “need” anybody.
But inside? I was still that little girl, waiting to be chosen. Waiting to be seen. Waiting to be loved without conditions.
A Turning Point
The realization hit me during a season where I was doing deep inner work—reflecting on my patterns, my relationships, and my emotional responses. It finally clicked: I wasn’t “broken.” I was responding exactly how someone would when they never felt securely loved as a child.
That revelation brought both grief and relief. Grief for what I never received. Relief in knowing that I could stop blaming myself for something I didn’t cause.
And that’s when I started writing to the little girl inside me. The version of me that still carried the wounds of childhood. The one who had waited far too long to feel safe, nurtured, and truly loved.
A Letter to My Younger Self
Dear Little Me,
I see you now—clearly. I see the little girl who smiled while hurting, who stayed quiet when she needed comfort, who tried to be “good” just to feel worthy.
You didn’t imagine the loneliness. It was real. And it wasn’t your fault.
You were never too much. Never too sensitive. Never too needy. You were simply a child in need of love.
I’m so sorry you had to figure things out on your own. I’m sorry no one showed up the way you needed. But I promise you this: from now on, I will.
I will be the one who sees you.
I will listen when you speak.
I will make space for your feelings.
I will love you with gentleness, grace, and truth.
You don’t have to earn love anymore. You don’t have to shrink. You don’t have to hide.
You are safe with me now.
With love,
Me
Healing Is Possible
Healing from emotional neglect or unmet childhood needs doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a process—a deeply spiritual and emotional one. It requires patience, self-compassion, and a willingness to meet yourself where you are.
But it’s also a holy journey. A sacred returning. A reclaiming of the love that was always meant for you.
You may never get the apology or closure you hoped for from your parents—but you can give yourself what you were denied. You can learn to love the child within you. You can surround yourself with people who see you, hear you, and value you. And most importantly, you can allow God to parent your heart in ways no human ever could.
You Are Not Alone
If you’ve ever felt this way, I want you to know you’re not alone.
Your story matters. Your healing matters. And your heart is worthy of every ounce of love and tenderness it craves.
You are not broken. You are healing.
And that healing is a beautiful, holy thing.
If this spoke to you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below or connect with me. Let’s keep walking this path of healing—together. 🕊️
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