Beautiful tragic mess

They tell me I’m strong. They call me the one who brings people together, the one who can walk into any room and be loved. I’ve heard it my whole life—how people admire me, how they look up to me, how they need me. And yet, when I’m alone, when the world quiets down and there’s no one left to entertain, uplift, or guide—I don’t even know if I love myself.

It’s a strange kind of loneliness, being surrounded by love but never truly feeling it. Not because it isn’t real, but because I don’t know how to receive it. Somewhere along the way, I learned to be everything for everyone else and nothing for myself.

The Performance of Being “Okay”

I’ve mastered the art of being okay. The leader. The healer. The strong one. The one who listens when people break down, the one who helps others find their way. It’s a role I play so well that people never stop to ask if I’m tired. They assume I have it all figured out. They don’t see the nights when I lie awake, questioning if I’m enough—if I’ll ever be enough for myself.

Because when the lights dim, and the applause fades, I’m left with a version of myself that doesn’t know what real love feels like. Not from others—I know they love me. But from me.

Breaking the Cycle

I wasn’t raised with a father. My mother never showed love. I learned early that survival meant being strong, keeping it together, never needing too much. But now, I’m unlearning. I’m trying to break the cycle. I want to know what it’s like to love myself—not for what I do for others, not for how well I perform, but simply for being me.

Healing isn’t pretty. It’s uncomfortable. It forces me to face the parts of myself I’ve avoided for years. The parts that believe love is something I have to earn. The parts that whisper, “You’re only valuable if you’re useful.”

But I refuse to let that be my truth anymore.

Loving Me, for Me

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if self-love is something you just wake up and feel one day. But I do know this—I’m done being everything to everyone and nothing to myself. I’m learning to give myself the love I so freely give to others. I’m choosing to believe I’m worthy, even when it feels unnatural.

And if you’re reading this, if you’ve ever felt this way too—know that you’re not alone. We don’t have to keep living in this beautiful, tragic mess of seeking love everywhere except within ourselves.

We can rewrite the story.

We deserve to.