How to Feel Worthy of Love: Unravelling the Myth of Earned Connection

Introduction: The Familiar Ache

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned to perform love – to question how to feel worthy of love.

We became excellent students of approval, mastering how to adapt, how to serve, how to shine. We learned that connection was something we had to earn. We watched it be withdrawn when we disappointed, dangled when we achieved, deepened when we aligned with others’ expectations. It seemed to be a reward for being good, helpful, beautiful, smart, spiritual, funny, available, agreeable, or strong.

For me, this myth has been a particularly persistent teacher. Despite years of deep work, it still rises, especially in moments that matter. Recently, I’ve been navigating this terrain with my brothers. We’re not especially close, something that causes me real sadness, and I notice that whenever I interact with them, a familiar anxiety returns. I hesitate to be fully myself, fearing I won’t be “enough” in their eyes. It’s a visceral contraction; one I’ve known for years.

In fact, during one of the most difficult periods of my life, when I was given six weeks to live, a clairsentient healer told me that my illness was rooted in the belief I am not enough. That message cracked something open. I committed to healing not just my body, but the deeper belief that had been limiting my life. And I did heal, in many ways. But recently, the pattern has returned – not as a failure, but as another layer of the onion. Another chance to remember.

The Origin of the Myth

This belief often takes root early. We may have received affection only when we performed well or suppressed difficult emotions. We internalised the message: connection is conditional. We learned to monitor ourselves constantly – am I being good enough, nice enough, useful enough, spiritual enough?

These early experiences encode the nervous system, leading us into adulthood with a default posture of “earning” rather than “receiving.” And we carry it everywhere – with lovers, with friends, at work, even within our own minds.

The Currency Illusion

In a culture that rewards productivity, appearance, and performance, it’s easy to internalise the idea that everything must be earned. We come to believe that connection, too, must be transactional. That we will be valued when we bring value. That we will be loved when we are lovable.

The myth plays out in almost every arena:

• In romantic relationships, we perform roles to be seen as desirable or easy to love. We aim to anticipate needs before they are spoken
• In friendships, we overextend to prove our loyalty or worth. We hide our struggle and project an ever upbeat persona

• At work, we bury our needs to be the team player, and instead aim to be the overachiever, the indispensable one.
• Even with ourselves, we postpone self-compassion until we’ve achieved more, proved more, done more. Self-love becomes conditional on progress.

The myth is subtle. It whispers: “If you just do more, be more, prove more… then you’ll deserve to belong.”

We begin to relate to connection as if it were a currency – something to be traded or earned. But connection isn’t transactional. It’s not a prize for self-improvement. It’s a pulse, a presence, a remembering.

This kind of connection is brittle. It keeps us locked in vigilance. It collapses when we stop performing. It lacks the rootedness of being met as we are.

The Nervous System Knows

Our bodies are barometers for safety. The autonomic nervous system constantly scans our environment for cues: Am I safe? Am I accepted? Am I welcome here?

This process, called neuroception, was identified by Dr. Stephen Porges in his Polyvagal Theory. It happens below conscious awareness and is shaped by early experiences of attachment and belonging.

When we feel we must earn our place, our nervous system remains and often gets stuck in a sympathetic state of alertness and arousal (fight/flight) or dorsal shutdown (freeze). We go into performance mode – hyper-vigilant, tense, over-functioning, or we disappear altogether.

True belonging, however, is felt in the ventral vagal state – the part of the nervous system associated with safety, connection, and co-regulation. This is where soft eyes, spontaneous smiles and relaxed shoulders live. A place of grounded openness, safety, and relational attunement. Practices that support this state help us drop the story and return to the body’s knowing: you already belong.

Performative belonging may look calm on the outside but often masks internal activation. Real connection creates a physiological exhale.

Connection as a Current

What if connection isn’t something we hustle for, but something we remember?

Connection is not a status we unlock. It’s a current we remember. We tap into it not by trying harder, but by softening. By coming home.

Whether it’s the awkwardness of a work Zoom call, the quiet heartbreak of drifting friendships, or the raw longing to feel truly loved by family – we begin again with presence. We remember that real intimacy happens in the space where effort falls away.

And yes, sometimes the same wound reappears. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re alive. Peeling back another layer. Just as I’ve had to revisit old patterns recently, perhaps you are too. The answer is not to try harder, but to return, gently, to the knowing beneath the noise.

Practices for Returning

Begin simply. A breath. A hand resting on your chest. A quiet whisper to yourself: I do not have to earn connection.

From here, the return begins.

You might notice the moments when you slip into performance – when you edit your words, overextend your energy, or polish yourself to be more likeable. Pause there. Ask gently: What am I afraid would happen if I let myself be seen as I am?

Let your body become the anchor. Sometimes it’s as simple as feeling your feet on the ground, slowing your breath, or doing the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise from our last Newsletter . These small gestures invite the nervous system to soften, to remember safety.

Words can help, too. Not grand declarations, but quiet truths repeated often enough that your body begins to trust them: I don’t have to earn this. Who I am is already enough.

And in the relationships that feel safe, experiment with letting more of yourself be visible. Not the polished version, but the tender, messy, fully human one. Connection deepens not when we impress, but when we reveal.

If old wounds circle back, meet them as part of the spiral. Healing doesn’t move in straight lines. It loops and returns, each time offering another chance to remember.

You might hold these questions in your journal, or simply in your heart:

• Where in my life do I still feel I must prove my worth?
• Which relationships allow me to exhale and stop performing?
• How does true connection feel in my body?
• When did I first learn that love had to be earned?

These aren’t puzzles to solve. They’re invitations to feel.

The Quiet Remembering

The journey toward unconditional belonging isn’t linear. It’s cyclical, spiralling inward. Some days you’ll feel fully connected. Others, you’ll feel like you’re back at the beginning. But even in those moments, you are not alone.

Connection is not earned. It is remembered. And each breath, each pause, each tender reorientation – is an invitation back.

The breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the truth of your presence –  all of it is worthy of connection.

The belief that you must earn it is a myth. A leftover imprint from a world confused about worth.

But there is another way.

Belonging begins not when you achieve it, but when you allow it.

You don’t need to prove it.
You don’t need to do more.
You just need to come home.

You already belong.