It makes sense that I believe I’m unlovable.

Not because I am, but because that belief was installed early — in the moments when I needed love the most and didn’t receive it. The absence of warmth, of emotional reflection, of being seen… it all left a gap. And into that gap, my mind inserted a story: “There must be something wrong with me.”

That’s not just a belief. That’s a survival strategy. A way to make sense of the chaos.

Because the alternative — that the people who were meant to love me didn’t or couldn’t — was too painful to bear.

So my ego took that story and built a world around it.
I’m unlovable became the script.
And once that script was in place, everything else followed:

  • I mistrusted care.
  • I downplayed my needs.
  • I rejected people before they could reject me.
  • I settled for less because “at least it was something.”

The ego doesn’t like being wrong. Especially when the belief it’s protecting has become your foundation.
Even if that foundation is full of cracks.

It’s not cruelty. It’s fear.

The ego says: “This story kept you safe. Don’t let it go.”

But here’s what I’m learning:
Just because something kept me safe then, doesn’t mean it serves me now.

I’m grieving the truth behind that belief. Not because it was right, but because I followed it for so long.

I understand now: I wasn’t unlovable — I was unseen.
There’s a difference.
And I’m slowly learning to see myself, even if the ego still flinches.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about clarity.
About watching the story unravel — not to shame myself, but to set myself free.

Because maybe I was never meant to carry the story of unlove.
Maybe it was just the echo of someone else’s inability to love at all.