Recently, I was brought to tears of frustration when I realized that there’s a difference between being loved versus accepted by those closest to you, especially family. In all honesty, it reopened a wound that had never really healed to begin with.

But in true Pillow Talk fashion, I clutched my pen and wrote until I could find the strength to lean into the pain, sadness, and disappointment, and emerge with a greater understanding of myself and those around me.

This post is for anyone who has ever dared to be different, and suffered the consequences; the victims of conditional love.

Note: Hear a personal message from me along with today’s post by clicking the “play” button below 🙂

This post isn’t for everyone.

But it is for those who have dared to be different, and suffered the consequences. Those rejected by strangers, and the ones they love most. Those beaten, bullied, persecuted, judged, and labeled wrong, broken, or simply not enough. The victims of conditional love. Those kicked out, figuratively and literally. Those searching for love in all the wrong places. Those who fall short of everyone’s expectations, even their own. Those looking to fill the void and heal. Those who hate the skin their in. Those who know their worth. Those who put on a brave face and struggle on. Those with bad habits but good hearts. Those who dare to dream of freedom, in every sense. Those who are described in this post. Those who aren’t.

Recently, I was brought to tears.

It caught me off guard because I’d forgotten that life could be a frustrating  contradiction; I could work so hard to love and create safe spaces for others, but not be accepted by family and loved ones. That I could be someone people dared to open their hearts to, revealing their secrets, histories, and fears, but still feel helpless and hopeless when it came to helping those closest to me. That I could find the strength to be me, fearlessly. But still fall short of the dreams and expectations my parents had for me.

For so many years, I waged war against myself in the name of those considered more worthy, right: my family. Loved ones. Enemies.  During that same time, I dedicated myself to changing the world through teaching, leading, giving, learning, loving, and feeling, differently. I found and lost myself over and over again. Sometimes on purpose. But mostly on accident.

Like so many others, I just wanted to change the world–or at least my little slice of it. I was taught to believe that if I worked harder and became smarter, more beautiful, famous,  sexier, braver–and everything thing that involved being more than what I already am–I’d find happiness. That I would somehow figure out a way to silence the voice in my own head that says, “You’re  not enough.” I’ve tried, and I’m still trying, even though most of the time it doesn’t feel like it’s working.

Recently, I was brought to tears.

It caught me off guard because I’d forgotten that life could  be a beautiful contradiction; I could not be accepted by family and loved ones, but love freely and create safe spaces for others. I could feel hopeless and helpless when it came to helping those closest to me, but  be someone people dared to open their hearts to, revealing their secrets, histories, and fears to. I could fall short of the dreams and expectations my parents had for me, but still find the strength to be me, fearlessly.

For so many years, I waged  war against myself in the name of those considered more worthy, right: my family. Loved ones. Enemies. During that same time, I dedicated myself to feeling, loving, learning, giving, leading, and teaching, differently. I found and lost myself over and over again, mostly on accident, and sometimes on purpose.

Like so many others, I just wanted to change the world–or at least my little slice of it. I was taught to believe that if I worked harder and became smarter, more beautiful, famous, sexier, braver–and everything that involved being more than what I already am–I’d find happiness. That I would somehow figure out a way to silence the voice in my head that says, “You’re not enough.” Even though most of the time it doesn’t feel like it’s working, I’ve tried, and I’m still trying.

This post is for everyone.

For those who are described in this post. Those who aren’t. Those who dare to dream of freedom, in every sense. Those with bad habits but good hearts. Those who have given up. Those who put on a brave face and struggle on. Those who know their worth. Those who hate the skin their in. Those looking to fill the void and heal. Those who fall short of everyone’s expectations, even their own. Those searching for love in all the wrong places. Those kicked out, figuratively and literally.  The  victims of conditional love. Those beaten, bullied, persecuted, judged, and labeled wrong, broken, or simply not enough. Those rejected by strangers, and the ones they love most. Those who have dared to be different, and suffered the consequences.

Despite the pain and disappointment, I realized it was and will always be okay. Because I am enough. Just like you.

So, when you have moments where you are in the pits, brought to tears, and life feels like shit on top of shit on top of shit. Know you’re not alone. And even though you may be crying by yourself, we’re crying together.