I Was Never Abandoned — My Own Fear Blinded Me

I was reading someone’s blog Lilé van der Weijden, and suddenly, I had to stop.

Something hit me.

A thought. A realisation. A truth that, until now, I hadn’t been able to face.

The love was always there.

I know it still is.

You were still there that day. The day I snapped — when my mind just went bang. When I zoned out, walked upstairs, and tried to end my life.

For all these years, the love was there. I just never saw it.

All the little things. The kindness. The care. It was there all along. But I was too caught up in fear to recognise it.

Too consumed with overthinking and analysing every situation to just feel it.

“Is she buttering me up to bring me down?”

“Is she going to leave?”

“Why is she being so nice? What’s she hiding?”

I was so happy — but at the same time, I was drowning.

Fear Makes Love Feel Like a Threat

Even when I knew I was happy, something inside me fought against it.

“You should feel happy now,” I told myself.

“Show it. Show it.”

But I couldn’t.

Something was blocking it.

Instead of trusting love, I analysed it.

Instead of embracing kindness, I questioned it.

Instead of feeling safe, I prepared for pain.

And I don’t know why.

The Moment I Let It Out

As I write this, I’ve started to cry.

I don’t even know where that came from.

Were the digs I made at you actually digs at myself?

Was I protecting myself all along?

Was I self-sabotaging before anyone else had the chance to hurt me?

Why do I always have to see the bad in everything?

I wiped my tears quickly. My son was in the room. He can’t see me like this.

I’m his hero.

I have to hold it together.

I Always Took Things the Wrong Way

Not always — but a lot of the time.

I always thought people were against me.

I always felt like I was being attacked.

But maybe… they weren’t.

Maybe I turned them against me.

I used to say, “It’s easier to be hated than liked.” I said it so many times. Looking back, that was a huge red flag — but I didn’t see it then.

Maybe I really didn’t care if I was hated.

At least, on the surface.

But deep down? It cut me.

I didn’t see the signs when you wanted to say something. I didn’t see how hard it must have been for you.

And when you finally did say something, I took it as an attack.

I got defensive.

I shut you down.

I never gave you the space to feel safe expressing your emotions.

No wonder you didn’t want to share your feelings with me face-to-face.

But why? Why did I react like that?