To the Version of Me Who Didn’t Know Her Worth Yet

I think about you more than I like to admit.

Not in a nostalgic way.

Not in a “look how far I’ve come” kind of way.

But in that quiet, heavy way…

where I remember exactly how it felt to be you.

You didn’t hate yourself.

That’s what makes it harder to explain.

You just… didn’t choose yourself.

You gave people chances they didn’t earn.

You stayed in situations that didn’t feel right.

You accepted things that confused you, hurt you, drained you—

and then told yourself it wasn’t that bad.

You were always trying to understand.

Maybe they didn’t mean it like that.

Maybe I’m overthinking.

Maybe I just need to be more patient.

You bent your reality to make other people comfortable.

Even when it meant abandoning what you felt in your gut.

And the scariest part?

You didn’t even realize you were doing it.

You thought love was something you had to prove.

Something you had to earn by being understanding enough…

easy enough…

good enough.

So you gave.

And gave.

And gave.

Your time.

Your energy.

Your softness.

You handed pieces of yourself to people who didn’t even know how to hold them.

And when it wasn’t returned the way you needed—

you didn’t get angry.

You got quieter.

You questioned yourself.

Am I asking for too much?

Did I expect too much?

Is this just how it is?

You learned how to sit in confusion.

How to normalize inconsistency.

How to make peace with feeling almost chosen.

And that’s the part that breaks me when I think about you.

You didn’t think you deserved clarity.

You didn’t think you deserved consistency.

You didn’t think you deserved someone who showed up for you the way you showed up for them.

So you stayed.

Even when something inside you was whispering, this isn’t right.

You ignored it.

Because leaving would’ve meant choosing yourself.

And you didn’t know how to do that yet.

You didn’t know your worth.

Not fully. Not deeply. Not in a way that changed your decisions.

You knew how to be there for other people.

You knew how to love.

You knew how to care in a way that was real and deep and rare.

But you didn’t know that you deserved to receive that same kind of love back.

And I wish I could go back and sit with you in those moments.

The ones where you felt small but couldn’t explain why.

The ones where you felt hurt but convinced yourself it was okay.

The ones where you were waiting for something to change… instead of walking away.

I wouldn’t lecture you.

I wouldn’t tell you what to do.

I would just sit next to you and say—

“You don’t have to earn basic respect.”

I would tell you that love isn’t confusing when it’s real.

That you’re not “too sensitive” for wanting consistency.

That your needs are not a burden.

And most importantly—

I would tell you that you are allowed to leave anything

that makes you question your worth.

You didn’t know that yet.

So you stayed longer than you should have.

You gave more than you needed to.

You accepted less than you deserved.

And I don’t judge you for that.

I grieve you.

Because you were so good.

So full of love.

So willing to see the best in people.

You just didn’t know that you deserved someone

who saw the best in you too.

But here’s the part you couldn’t see then—

You were always worthy.

Nothing about you needed to change to deserve better.

Not your personality.

Not your heart.

Not the way you loved.

The only thing that needed to change…

was what you were willing to accept.

And now?

Now you see it.

Now you feel it.

Now you don’t stay where you feel confused.

You don’t chase where you feel uncertain.

You don’t shrink to make something work.

But I know she’s still in you.

That version of you who didn’t know her worth yet.

And instead of pushing her away…

you protect her.

You choose for her.

You walk away for her.

You speak up for her.

Because she didn’t know.

But you do now.

And that?

That changes everything.