Category: Self Improvement

This week, a realization hit me hard: I tend to love from a place of survival.

Every time I begin to date someone new, these old insecurities creep in, almost uninvited. I find myself overwhelmed by an intense fear of abandonment — a fear that I now recognize didn’t come from my parents (who were wonderful and loving). I didn’t grow up with “daddy issues” or anything like that. But something substantial happened to me when I was four years old — something I truly believe shaped me in ways I’m only now beginning to fully understand. That early experience planted deep, rooted insecurities that have followed me into adulthood.

Failed relationships, unexpected goodbyes, and emotional abandonment have all carved their marks on me. And now, I see how I often enter new relationships already bracing for the end — trying to fix things that aren’t even broken yet. I catch myself diving into deep conversations prematurely, handing over parts of my heart before someone has truly earned that intimacy. I realize that in trying to show my worth to others, I sometimes forget the worth I already carry within myself. I sell the person I am, desperately trying to prove that I deserve love — and in doing so, I unintentionally push people away.

It’s not to say that the ones who’ve left my life should have stayed. Honestly, I haven’t met anyone yet who truly deserved to. But I am at a place now where I no longer want to just survive relationships — I want to be at peace within myself.

At the start of this year, my uncle told me, “You cannot be afraid to love.” At the time, I laughed. I thought, Me? Afraid of love? Never. But a few encounters this year have humbled me. They made me realize that the fear of love isn’t about giving love; it’s about giving your heart away and fearing it will be shattered. It’s about wondering if simply being yourself is enough to be loved.

At the beginning of the year, I created a vision board centered around love. Naively, I thought maybe love would just show up — like magic. But it’s not that simple. In the past, when I made vision boards about money, career growth, or education, those things didn’t just fall into my lap either. They took work. They took going back to school, applying to new jobs, learning new skills. The vision board was the roadmap; the work was what made it real.

And love, I realize now, is no different.

If I want the kind of love I’ve envisioned — the kind my heart quietly longs for — I have to do the inner work. I have to heal the parts of me that still believe I’m not enough.

So here I am:
April 17, 2025.
Ready to heal.
Ready to change.

In the spirit of reflection, I’ve turned off my social media and embraced quiet. It’s Holy Thursday, leading into Good Friday — a time when, in my Catholic faith, even music falls silent. This sacred silence has forced me to sit with my thoughts — no distractions, no noise. And after a week of practicing this stillness, something beautiful has happened:
I can hear the birds again.
I can finally hear myself again.

I want to do the work.
I will do the work.
I want to be happy — and I will be happy.