Have you ever felt like every kind word or gentle embrace had to be “deserved” first?
That was my reality growing up.
I come from a strict household where biblical verses guided nearly every aspect of daily life, including whether or not I’d receive a tender moment of approval.
Looking back, I can see how damaging it was to interpret love as a prize.
Yet it took me years of inner work, self-reflection, and a fair amount of stumbling to learn that genuine love doesn’t come with a scorecard.
It just is.
Confusing compliance with worthiness
In my childhood home, faith was central and unyielding. Sunday school wasn’t optional, and prayer time happened like clockwork—no excuses allowed.
I remember being praised by my parents if I read the scripture perfectly or remembered certain verses by heart, while any questions or deviations were met with disappointment or disapproval.
I became an expert at following rules. I aimed to impress the adults who held the keys to my acceptance.
The moment I stepped out of line, though, the warmth I craved withdrew.
This made me believe I had to be perfect to be loved. If I messed up, I was sure love would vanish. That mindset followed me for years.
Even when I left my family home, I lived cautiously—wanting to fit into romantic relationships, friendships, and even workplaces, just so I’d “earn” the positive regard of others.
I rarely spoke up when something felt wrong because deep down, I was terrified of losing that validation.
One day, my own son looked at me with a question in his eyes—something so honest and curious that it cut through all my fear.
He wondered why I seemed anxious whenever I had to correct him. Right then, I realized I was still tiptoeing around the concept of love, as though it might be yanked away at any second if I made the wrong call.
In that moment, I recognized how important it was to break the pattern. I didn’t want him to grow up believing that love disappears when you’re not perfect.
The guilt that lingers
For the longest time, I also wrestled with a nagging sense of guilt. It’s the kind of guilt that reminds you of every rule you ever broke, every religious ritual you questioned, and every moment of hesitation you showed.
I assumed it was normal to live with a constant feeling that I owed someone (or something) better behavior.
As I got older and started pursuing my own path, I saw how destructive that guilt could be. It wasn’t just about moral conscience—it was about feeling unworthy unless I followed a certain script.
If I didn’t attend church on Sunday, guilt.
If I explored new spiritual ideas, guilt.
If I found happiness outside the confines of what I was taught, guilt.
This invisible weight made me second-guess my intuition. I’d question whether I had the right to voice my thoughts, especially if they contradicted the rigid views I grew up with.
But I slowly learned that guilt can be a sign we’ve absorbed rules that might not fit who we truly are anymore.
Realizing that was a step toward freedom. I began to sift through which parts of my upbringing still resonated with me in a healthy way and which parts stifled my growth.
That process took courage. It also required me to accept that letting go of guilt doesn’t mean rejecting my parents or my past—it simply means prioritizing self-compassion over punishing myself for every perceived shortcoming.
Unlearning old scripts
If you’ve had an upbringing like mine, then you probably know how ingrained our beliefs and behaviors can be. It can be quite overwhelming if you don’t know where to begin the process of self-examination, honestly.
Fortunately, not long ago, I stumbled upon world-renowned shaman Rudá Iandê’s “Free Your Mind” masterclass.
I was hesitant at first, mostly because the promise of “freeing your mind from limiting beliefs” sounded too good to be true. But I was also curious—especially since my own limiting beliefs about love were deeply ingrained from childhood.
The course emphasized reconnecting with your true self, something I realized I’d lost.
I’d spent so many years conforming to someone else’s checklist that I hadn’t asked, “What do I actually believe?” or “What genuinely makes me feel at peace?”
By diving into the exercises, I started identifying the moments in my past where I’d taught myself to equate love with approval. I also noticed that I kept searching for external stamps of validation, whether in my career or in my personal life. Everything had to “earn” a seal of approval.
But the more I listened to Rudá’s insights, the clearer it became that self-love can’t thrive if I see myself as perpetually unworthy.
One of the biggest shifts for me was learning how to challenge those old religious scripts without feeling like I was betraying my roots.
The masterclass helped me see that I can honor the positive morals and sense of community I learned, but I don’t have to bind myself to the belief that love is conditional.
That was liberating.
I noticed small changes in how I interacted with my son. I became more open-minded in conversations, and instead of waiting for some external measure of success, I learned to look inward and trust my own feelings.
That’s what “freeing your mind” felt like for me—recognizing that the real spiritual path involves discovering love that’s rooted in acceptance, not performance.
Embracing real love on my own terms
A huge turning point came when I realized I was replaying the past in many of my adult relationships.
I wanted to be the “perfect” partner so that I wouldn’t be abandoned.
I wanted to be the “perfect” mother so that my child would never question my love.
I wanted to be the “perfect” friend so that no one would walk away.
That kind of perfectionism is a full-time job—and an exhausting one at that.
But when your entire childhood was built on the notion that love comes at a price, it’s hard to abandon old patterns overnight.
What actually helped me move forward was reflecting on all the moments when I felt loved without earning it.
Tiny memories like the day my best friend said, “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay—I’m here,” or the times my son wrapped his arms around me just because he felt like it.
No conditions. No tests.
I came to understand that real love is inherently unconditional. It’s not something you receive after you’ve recited all the right lines or performed the right tasks. It exists in those raw, honest, messy moments when you dare to be yourself, flaws and all.
Walking away from the belief that love must be earned didn’t happen in a neat, single epiphany. It was a series of small realizations that eventually added up.
I had to forgive myself for having clung to a distorted view of love.
I also had to forgive my parents for passing down a concept of worthiness they truly believed was correct.
Now, whenever I catch myself slipping back into old habits—like feeling anxious that someone might withhold affection if I’m not “good enough”—I pause.
I remind myself that love isn’t a trophy to be handed out for good behavior.
Love is a state of being, not a reward.
That doesn’t mean every day is perfect, though. I still grapple with occasional moments of self-doubt.
But instead of spiraling into guilt, I lean into the tools I’ve learned. I give myself space to ask: “Am I trying to earn something that should be given freely?” If the answer is yes, I step back and re-center.
I remind myself of the progress I’ve made and the peace I felt when I let go of conditional thinking.
Embracing real love has also expanded how I see faith.
I’m still spiritual, and I still value a sense of connection to a higher power, but the idea that love must be bargained for no longer resonates with me.
I believe that whatever divine presence is out there, it’s one that meets us with acceptance, not a checklist.
The shift in perspective makes practicing my spirituality feel more authentic and less like a high-stakes exam.
As for my son, I’ve learned that what he needs most from me is presence and genuine care, not a façade of perfection.
When he sees me living honestly—both in my strengths and in my vulnerabilities—he learns that love doesn’t vanish with mistakes. It remains constant, like a safe harbor amidst life’s storms.
Conclusion
Letting go of the belief that love must be earned can feel like stepping off a treadmill you’ve been running on your entire life.
At first, there’s a dizzy sense of disorientation, but then relief rushes in. No more checking boxes or pretending to be someone you’re not.
It frees you to experience relationships—and even spirituality—with more honesty, depth, and compassion.
I hope sharing my journey encourages you to question any old scripts that keep you from feeling truly seen and cherished.
None of us should have to ask permission to be loved. It’s ours by virtue of being human.
You deserve to know that real love is given, not earned.
Believe it. Live it. And pass it on.
