Can I forgive myself for all the things I did because I was just trying to be loved?
I didn’t understand, as a child, that I was just trying to survive and that the ways I coped weren’t destructive on purpose. They held a purpose, they protected me when I felt scared, alone, and vulnerable.
Can I come to terms with that none of this is my fault and I’m doing the best I can and being sad so often might just be a fuck ton of grief I’m letting go of ever so slowly?
I have so much love to give but I need so much more in return. There’s a deficit of security, of healthy attachment, of being loved on like I love my children. None of that deficit is my fault. I didn’t do anything to deserve that. And the fact that I now feel like I’m constantly desperately trying to gather that love and hold on to it is just my way of trying to fill what seems empty.