For 15 years, I convinced myself that what I had was love. It wasn’t the kind of love I’d imagined for myself, but I told myself that love takes work, that it’s never perfect, that everyone has to make compromises. I held onto that belief for so long that I didn’t see the truth hiding in plain sight: what I was experiencing wasn’t love. It was a transaction.
I see it so clearly now, but back then, it was harder to recognize. The love I received came with conditions—strings attached to every gesture of kindness, every word of affection. Nothing was given freely. If I received something, there was always an expectation, whether spoken or unspoken, that I had to give something in return.
At first, it was subtle. A kind word or moment of affection was often followed by a request, a complaint, or a reminder of what I wasn’t doing right. Over time, it became more obvious: love was doled out when I performed well, met expectations, or kept my mouth shut. If I did something “wrong,” the love disappeared, replaced by silence, criticism, or withdrawal.
I started to feel like I was on a never-ending treadmill, constantly running, constantly trying to earn what should have been given freely. I became hyper-aware of my actions, always asking myself, “What do I need to do to keep the peace? What do I need to do to stay in her good graces?”
I worked harder. I gave more. I silenced myself when I wanted to speak up. I compromised on things I never thought I would. And for what? A fleeting moment of approval? A smile that would vanish the next time I fell short of her expectations?
The thing about conditional love is that it makes you feel like you’re always one mistake away from losing everything. It teaches you that love isn’t something you deserve just for being you—it’s something you have to earn. And when you inevitably can’t keep up, when you make a mistake or fail to meet the impossible standards, you’re left with the crushing belief that it’s your fault.
I spent years believing I wasn’t enough. I thought if I just worked harder, gave more, or changed myself, I could finally earn the love I craved. But no matter what I did, it was never enough. And it wasn’t until the relationship ended that I realized the problem wasn’t me. The problem was the condition.
Love—real love—isn’t conditional. It doesn’t make you feel like you have to jump through hoops to deserve it. It doesn’t disappear when you fall short, and it doesn’t keep score. Real love meets you where you are, flaws and all, and doesn’t demand that you prove your worth.
Coming to terms with this has been one of the hardest parts of my journey. Even now, I find myself questioning whether I deserve the kind of love I once believed was out of reach. But I’m learning. I’m learning to let go of the belief that I have to earn love. I’m learning to trust that I am enough, just as I am.
If this resonates with you, I want you to know you’re not alone. Conditional love has a way of making you feel small, like you’ll never measure up. But the truth is, you don’t have to measure up to anything. You are worthy of love, exactly as you are.
What about you? Have you ever felt like you had to earn someone’s love? How did it affect you? I’d love to hear your thoughts—leave a comment below and let’s start a conversation about what real love should look like.