Learning Through What Was Missing
One of the strongest beliefs I carried out of childhood wasn't something anyone said to me directly.
It was something I learned through absence.
I watched others receive love—consistently, freely, without conditions—and slowly concluded that whatever made that possible must be something I lacked. No one explained it. No one confirmed it aloud. But children are experts at drawing conclusions, especially when silence answers the questions no one else will.
I learned to believe I was unworthy of love.
When Absence Became Identity
The absence of love didn't just hurt—it instructed.
It taught me that affection was earned, not given. That closeness was conditional. That being chosen was rare, and being overlooked was normal. Over time, this belief didn't stay in childhood—it followed me forward.
Into friendships.
Into romantic relationships.
Into how I approached God.
If love was missing, I assumed the problem was me.
Carrying That Belief Into Faith
That belief didn't stop at human relationships—it shaped my faith.
I believed in God, but I struggled to believe God loved me. Love felt distant, reserved for people who were better, cleaner, more deserving. I trusted God's authority long before I trusted His affection.
Prayer felt cautious.
Grace felt theoretical.
Love felt earned—or withheld.
I didn't doubt God's power.
I doubted my worthiness.
How the Belief Repeated Itself
Believing I was unlovable made me tolerate less than I deserved.
I stayed where affection was scarce.
I accepted inconsistency as normal.
I confused longing with connection.
When love did appear, I questioned it. When it disappeard, I understood why. The belief had become self-reinforcing—every loss felt like confirmation.
Beginning the Work of Unlearning
Unlearning that belief has been slow and uncomfortable.
It requires questioning instincts that once kept me safe. It means sitting with kindness without suspicion. It means allowing love—human and divine—to exist without immediately bracing for withdrawal.
Healing hasn't erased the belief yet.
But it has weakened it.
Learning That Love Was Never the Reward
What I am slowly discovering is this: love was never meant to be a reward for being enough.
It was meant to be the starting point.
The absence of love didn't define my worth—it distorted my understanding of it. And faith is teaching me, gently and repeatedly, that worth is not proven by being chosen—it exists before choice is ever made.
Still Unlearning, Still Becoming
I am still unlearning the belief that I am unlovable.
Some days it whispers quietly. Some days it tries to steer decisions I now recognize as fear-based. But it no longer goes unquestioned.
Love is no longer something I assume I've failed to earn.
Faith is no longer something I approach from a distance.
I am learning—slowly, imperfectly—that absence was never evidence.
And that I was never unworthy of love.
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers... will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." — Romans 8:38-39