Safe to Be Sad

I grew up in a home where it wasn’t safe to be sad. My mother died when I was four, so you can imagine I was, at times, sad.

Because no one in my home knew how to deal with my sadness, let alone theirs, I thought something was wrong with me.

I tried so hard to earn love by being a “good” kid, doing well in school, getting my teachers to like me, reading the most books for Book It! reading program at Pizza Hut (ok, I liked pizza, too).

Only when I became an adult, and started doing therapy, was I even introduced to the idea that love is not something to be earned.

I still struggle with it. I want to be a good person, to prove I’m a good person, for people to know I’m good. I’m worthy of love. I’m worthy of being here, of being alive. It is a lesson I am learning over and over and over again.