When I think about reliance, the first memory that comes up is from childhood — being promised things by my mother and then hearing the opposite from my father.
I never really knew what was true until something actually happened. That uncertainty bred a constant low-level anxiety: is it really going to happen this time?

It wasn’t just about toys or trips. It was about safety — about learning that even when people said yes, it might turn into no. I learned not to trust promises, not to rely on anyone, and to stay ready for disappointment. Both of my parents were inconsistent in their own ways. Support often came in scraps, just enough to keep me hoping, never enough to feel secure.

Somewhere along the way, I internalised the belief that receiving comes at a cost — that if I take something good, I’ll have to pay for it later. There’s always been this sense of an unseen transaction beneath the surface: if I’m given something, someone else must be losing.

But now, as an adult, I’m beginning to see things differently. My therapist pointed out that I’m not actually reliant — I’m choosing. I choose therapy because it helps me grow. I choose massages because they nurture me. I choose the gym because it supports my health. I choose to have a dog because she brings joy, structure, and connection into my days.

These aren’t dependencies. They’re conscious acts of self-support.

I’m learning to take the positive from these interactions without guilt — to simply receive. Sometimes at the dog park, all I want is a smile or a thumbs up. And I used to feel guilty for not giving more in return. But I don’t have to overextend to justify being seen, helped, or cared for.

Receiving is enough.
Choosing support is strength.
It’s not about needing others to carry me; it’s about allowing life to meet me halfway.