Finding Myself Beyond Family, Love, & Work.
Growing up, I always felt like an outsider in my own family. It was not just the usual sibling rivalries or parent-child disagreements—it was something deeper. I was different, and that difference made me an afterthought.
On my dad’s side, being Mormon was the unspoken currency of love and acceptance, and I did not have it. I was never a part of their faith, which meant to me I was never fully part of them. Love felt conditional, as if I had to earn it in ways I never could. No matter what I did, it was never enough.
The Family That Never Saw Me
If my dad’s family made me feel like an outsider, my mom and sister made home feel like a battleground. Their narcissism turned every interaction into a power struggle. Affection was never freely given—it was a tool they used to control and manipulate. And in that dynamic, I was always the one left empty-handed.
Birthdays and holidays weren’t days to celebrate; they were reminders. While others experienced warmth and connection, I felt distant. Christmas as well as thanksgiving were never magical nor comforting; and birthdays felt more like obligations than celebrations. I never expected much from those days, and somehow, they still managed to disappoint. As I got older, the gifts I got from them were more expensive as I felt they realized how they were and are making up for past mistakes. Demands as well, on what I wanted to do for those days were heavily pushed on me.
I would like to share a link to my post on anxiety. unseen weight understanding and managing anxiety
Love That Left Scars
If family set the foundation, relationships built the walls around me. Every relationship I have had seemed to follow the same destructive pattern—either I was the one causing damage, or I was the one picking up the pieces. It was never healthy, never fulfilling.
I wanted love but love always felt just out of reach. Maybe I was drawn to broken people, or maybe broken people were drawn to me. Either way, the outcome was the same: misunderstandings, toxicity, and heartache. Love felt like a battle, and I was left wounded. That alone made me feel like a mechanic for the person to repair them for the next one.
A Career Without a Future
Work should have been my escape, a place where effort led to success, where I could prove myself. But even there, I found myself stuck. While reaching for an opportunity, it was taken away before I could grasp it.
I worked hard. I showed up. I gave my best. Unfortunately, it was never enough. Promotions passed me by, recognition never came, and I felt like I was always starting over, no matter how much experience I gained. The quiet firing led to making work miserable whereas, I had to stop my tasks to finish other individual’s tasks. The days and hours I worked got more and more distant. Not really a livable wage.
Finding Myself in the Wreckage
I won’t tie this story up with a neat little bow because life isn’t like that. I’m still figuring things out. I still have wounds that have not fully healed. But what I do know is this: I am more than what I have been through.
I may never have had the family I wanted, the love I needed, or the career I dreamed of. But I have myself. And for the first time, I am learning that maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. I find myself looking into therapy but unsure of how I should go about it. It makes me nervous thinking about the process of it.
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