When the Wrong People Feel Like Home

I keep getting drawn to people who can’t really give me what I need.
People who are emotionally unavailable. Distracted. Already in relationships. Too caught up in their own storms to ever truly notice mine.

And it’s frustrating.
Because I know the pattern. I see it happening. And yet some part of me still lights up around them.
It’s not rational. It’s not even about them.
It’s about what they represent.

They feel familiar. Not safe — but known.
Something in my nervous system says:

“Here’s your chance. If you can just be good enough, calm enough, interesting enough, maybe this time you’ll be chosen. Maybe this time it’ll go differently.”

But it never does.

Because they’re not actually available.
Because I’m not being seen — I’m being activated.

And the worst part? I feel like I lose myself trying to be seen.
I want to show them I’m worth knowing. I reach. I over-function. I hope.
And somewhere along the way, I stop listening to the part of me that’s quietly whispering:

“You’re already worth knowing. You just keep chasing people who don’t have the capacity to show you that.”

It’s exhausting. And sad.
Because I think I’ve been doing it for years.
And people probably saw it — the way I’d quietly pursue someone who wasn’t really present.
They saw me disappear into those old dynamics.
And I think part of me knew, too.

I don’t hate these people. They’re not bad. They’re just not able to meet me.
And it’s not my job to pull presence out of people who aren’t offering it.

What I’m learning — slowly — is that recognizing the pattern is the first step.
Not trying to kill the feeling.
Not blaming myself for wanting.
Just seeing it clearly and not following it this time.

Because when the wrong people feel like home, it’s not about staying away from them.
It’s about building a new home inside myself.
One where love isn’t something I have to earn.
Where I don’t have to chase, explain, or prove anything.
Where I can feel safe, even when someone else doesn’t see me.

And I’m starting to do that.

Little by little, I’m learning how to stay with myself — even when I feel the pull.

Especially then.