Growing Up Outside the Circle
What was missing in my childhood wasn't just affection.
It was belonging.
I felt like the black sheep of the family—present, but not fully included. Love existed around me. I could see it being exchanged freely. I watched others receive care, tenderness, and patience without having to earn it.
I learned what love looked like by watching it move past me.
Affection as a Transaction
Any love I did receive came with strings attached.
Do this for me.
Behave this way.
Be useful.
Love wasn't something you rested in—it was something you qualified for. Approval came after performance. Care followed compliance.
That kind of environment teaches a very specific lesson:
Love is conditional. And if you want it, you have to work for it.
How That Lesson Followed Me Into Adulthood
I didn't realize how deeply that belief took root until much later.
As an adult, love felt fragile—something that could disappear if I didn't maintain it properly. If I didn't show effort. If I didn't provide something tangible. If I didn't prove my value constantly.
Affection felt earned, not assumed.
The Fear Beneath the Gesture
Even now, I notice it.
The instinct to give.
To bring something.
To offer value as reassurance.
Not because generosity is wrong—but because underneath it sits a quiet fear: If I don't show effort, I might be left.
That fear isn't about the present moment.
It's about the past repeating itself.
Loving From Insecurity, Not Intention
Conditional love teaches you to perform.
You become attentive, thoughtful, and generous—but not always from freedom. Sometimes from anxiety. From the belief that affection has to be sustained through action or it will disappear.
That kind of love is exhausting.
It keeps you scanning for signs.
Measuring responses.
Interpreting silence as danger.
Recognizing the Pattern Without Feeding It
Naming this doesn't mean I've mastered it.
It means I've recognized it.
I can see now that the urge to earn love isn't a flaw—it's a learned response to deprivation. It formed when love was scarce and unpredictable.
But awareness creates space.
Space to pause.
Space to question the instinct.
Space to choose differently—even when it feels uncomfortable.
Learning What Love Actually Is
Love was never meant to be a transaction.
It isn't sustained by gifts or gestures alone.
It isn't secured through usefulness.
It doesn't disappear the moment effort pauses.
Real love remains—even when you're empty-handed.
That's the truth I'm learning now. Slowly. Imperfectly. Honestly.
What I'm Working Toward
I'm learning to let love exist without proving myself.
To show up without bargaining.
To trust that presence matters more than performance.
To believe that affection doesn't require constant reinforcement.
This is work.
Deep work.
But it's necessary.
Because love that is freely given is the only kind that can truly be received.
"Neither death nor life... nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God."— Romans 8:38-39