Some wounds don’t heal in a straight line.
Healing isn’t linear—it’s cyclical.
Old pain circles back, not to punish us, but to invite us into deeper understanding, softer compassion, and more lasting peace.
Recently, I had a moment that brought me right back to a feeling I’ve carried since childhood:
Why doesn’t he choose me?
Why doesn’t he choose me?
When my dad contacted my husband—not me—about helping us with a home repair loan, it hit a nerve I didn’t expect. It wasn’t just about the money. It was about feeling unseen… again.
Growing up, my dad was often emotionally distant. That distance became sharp during a season that should have pulled us closer—when my mom was fighting cancer. I was still in middle school.
That’s when I learned to be quiet. To not need too much. To manage.
I didn’t have words for it at the time, but I internalized a belief:
To be chosen, I had to be useful. Deserving. Good.
And over time, that belief shaped so much:
- How I showed up in relationships.
- How I presented myself in business.
- How I interpreted silence—whether from a parent, a client, or a job application.
Even now, when I don’t hear back from something I put my heart into, that old echo returns:
What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone want me?
What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone want me?
But I know now—healing is a spiral. And each return is an opportunity to respond to the wound with love instead of shame.
So I wrote a letter to the version of me who still hurts. Maybe it’s a letter you need to hear, too.
💌 A Letter to My Younger Self
Dear Younger Me,
I see you.
I see the little girl who just wanted her dad to notice her. To choose her. To pick up the phone and say, “Hey, how are you doing?” instead of going silent—or talking to everyone else but you.
I see the strength you carried when Mom was sick, how you tried to be the good one, the helpful one, the one who didn’t need too much.
You thought maybe if you stayed small enough, quiet enough, good enough—he’d finally come close.
And when he didn’t… you thought it was something you did wrong.
You thought maybe if you stayed small enough, quiet enough, good enough—he’d finally come close.
And when he didn’t… you thought it was something you did wrong.
But I’m here now to tell you:
You didn’t do anything wrong.
His distance was never about your worth.
His silence was never a reflection of how lovable you are.
His choices don’t define you. They define him.
You never should have had to work so hard for love.
You deserved to be chosen just because you exist.
You always did.
You deserved to be chosen just because you exist.
You always did.
And sweet girl, I want you to know…
You’re not invisible anymore.
You’re not invisible anymore.
I see you.
I hear you.
I honor every tear you never got to cry out loud.
You don’t have to keep proving anything.
You get to rest now.
You get to be soft.
You get to be loved without earning it.
You get to rest now.
You get to be soft.
You get to be loved without earning it.
From this moment forward, I promise I’ll be the one who calls you first.
I’ll choose you every time.
And together, we’ll rewrite the ending.
With all the love you’ve ever deserved,
Your Future Self
Your Future Self
To the version of you who still wonders if you're too much, not enough, or somehow unworthy:
You are already whole.
You are already worthy.
You don’t have to earn love—you are love.
You are already worthy.
You don’t have to earn love—you are love.
And healing? It’s not about forgetting.
It’s about remembering who you were before you believed you had to prove your place in this world.