mynamesearn

I used to think I was hard to love. Or maybe I was just too much, or not enough. I’d be the one who blamed myself first when anything went wrong, especially in my love life. It was easier that way, right? To believe that the problems came from something inside me. Maybe I thought I was too intense, or not enough of whatever was needed. 

But as I grew, I started to realize something: if being myself is too much for someone, maybe we just don’t belong together. But try telling that to a 17-year-old girl. She wouldn’t believe you, especially not me. I grew up thinking I was always the problem. I carried that with me, that constant whisper that I was the one who wasn’t enough, who didn’t fit. But here’s the thing I never fully understood until now: I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t the problem. I was just being me.

Let me tell you something that stuck with me. One day, I went to the market with my dad. We were picking up tomatoes from a place that’s been a part of my family for years even before I was born. The lady who ran the place looked at me and said, “You look different now. Last time I saw you, you were just a little girl.” I smiled and said, “Thanks.” But then, my dad said something that hit me hard. “Yeah, she got fat. She used to be skinny.” What the hell, right? Like, why would anyone say that? 

Growing up with a dad who made comments like that made me feel like everything I did was wrong, or like I wasn’t good enough. I never felt beautiful, I never felt like I could just exist without being judged. Everything about me seemed to be under a microscope.

It wasn’t just that one comment, either. It was like living with this voice constantly telling me that I was embarrassing, or ugly, or never enough. For years, I carried that weight with me, wondering why I felt like I couldn’t get it right. But here’s the turning point: I’m learning to let go of that. I’m learning that I’m not hard to love and I never was.

It took me a long time to figure that out, but now that I have, I’m loud and proud about it. I’m not going to let someone’s offhand comment or the way they look at me define how I see myself anymore.

When I was with my ex, I used to tell him how my dad would bully me with his words, and he’d step in to protect me. At the time, it felt nice to have someone stand up for me, but now? I don’t need anyone to protect me. It doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate it, it was comforting, and I needed that for a while.

But now, I’ve learned how to stand up for myself. I’m strong enough to defend myself and know my worth, even without anyone else’s help. I’ve grown up a lot since those days. I don’t need someone to shield me from harsh words or criticism. I’ve learned how to stand tall in the face of it all.

I realized a lot of my anger as a kid came from the feeling of being judged all the time. It was like every word spoken to me was a reminder that I wasn’t measuring up. Every time my dad made a comment about my body, my looks, or anything, it felt like a personal attack. I wanted to fight back, to punch him in the face for every hurtful thing he said. I hated how it made me feel. 

But now? I’m better. I’m in a place where I can handle things differently. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’ve let go of the anger, and I’ve learned to be at peace with who I am. It’s not about fighting back. It’s about realizing that those words don’t define me.

The hardest lesson I had to learn was to tell myself, “I’m not hard to love.” That was the biggest challenge. No one ever really taught me that, and I struggled to believe it for a long time. When you grow up questioning your worth, it’s hard to believe you’re lovable. For years, I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought if I wasn’t loved, it must be my fault. 

But now, I’ve had the chance to experience love in different forms, from people who actually see me for who I am, not for who they want me to be. And that’s shown me that I am lovable, and I always have been.

I have to give credit to the people who helped me get here, my ex, even though he’s no longer in my life, and my friends. The love and support I got from them made all the difference. They believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. They saw something in me that I couldn’t see at the time, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. My ex taught me a lot about love, about seeing the best in someone even when they can’t see it themselves. 

And my friends? They’ve been my rocks. They’ve given me the support I needed to realize that I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m lovable. I already know that now. When you find people who are good for your soul, you hold on to them. You take care of them and treat them right because they’re the ones who see you when the world doesn’t. They’re the ones who give you the love and support that’s hard to find. 

And while my ex and my friends helped me get to this place, there’s something even more important I had to learn: I have to believe it too. I had to be the one to choose it. Because even with a support system, people who see you, love you, remind you of your worth, it doesn’t land if you don’t believe it yourself. That’s the part that’s the hardest, especially for people like me.

Sometimes I hear the words “You’re not hard to love,” “You’re enough,” “You matter” and I know they mean them, I really do. But it feels blurry, like I can hear it but I can’t hold it. I might even feel it in a moment, but it fades. I can’t grab onto it, can’t fully absorb it. It’s like it floats just out of reach.

That’s why it takes bravery. You have to be brave enough to believe the good things people say about you. You have to fight against the voice in your head that says you’re the exception. You have to learn to say, “They’re right. I am lovable. I am enough.” It’s not always easy. Sometimes it feels like pretending at first, like you’re faking confidence or repeating words you don’t quite believe yet. 

But keep doing it anyway. Because eventually, those words start to feel like home. And for all of that, I will always remind myself: I’m not hard to love. I was never hard to love. If someone doesn’t get it, that’s not on me. That’s not on anyone. That’s just life. And that’s my philosophy now.