One of the most unexpected parts of my healing journey has been realising that love was never actually missing from my life.
For so long, I searched for it.
I searched for it in relationships.
In being chosen.
In being needed.
In being valued.
In proving that I was enough.
I thought love was something I had to find. Something I had to earn. Something that would finally arrive one day and make me feel whole.
But as I began healing, something shifted.
I stopped looking for all the places where love was absent…and I started noticing all the places where it was already present.
And that changed everything.
For years, I was so focused on protecting myself from disappointment that I didn’t realise how much love was already surrounding me.
My mind had become very skilled at searching for evidence that confirmed my beliefs.
If someone let me down, I noticed.
If someone didn’t show up for me, I remembered.
If someone hurt me, I carried it.
But the moments of kindness?
The moments where someone saw me, appreciated me, or cared for me?
Those were much harder for me to fully receive.
Somewhere along the way, I had learned to question whether I was worthy of love.
But I am learning something new now.
Love doesn’t always arrive in the way we expect.
Sometimes it doesn’t come as a grand moment that changes our lives.
Sometimes it comes quietly.
A message. A gesture. A few thoughtful words. A reminder that we matter.
Recently, one of my students gave me a gift that I will treasure forever.
It wasn’t expensive.
It wasn’t something she bought.
It was something far more meaningful.
She had spent time carefully creating a collection of handwritten letters for me.
Each one contained positive messages and reminders that I could read whenever I was feeling down.
She had thought about me.
She had considered what I might need on difficult days.
She had taken the time to create something that would continue giving long after she handed it to me.
I remember holding those letters and feeling incredibly emotional.
Because what she gave me wasn’t just a gift.
She gave me a reminder.
A reminder that the kindness we put into the world doesn’t disappear.
That the way we make people feel matters.
That sometimes we have no idea how deeply we have touched someone’s life.
For so long, I measured my worth by what I achieved.
By how much I could do.
By how useful I was.
But moments like this remind me that my value isn’t just in what I accomplish.
It is also in who I am.
Another moment came unexpectedly from a student I had supported years ago.
He had left the school, and life had moved on.
I didn’t expect to hear from him again.
Then, after graduating, he reached out to thank me for helping him through a difficult time.
He shared how much my support had meant to him.
The old version of me would have dismissed this.
I would have said:
“I was just doing my job.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
But something has changed. I allowed myself to receive it.
I allowed myself to believe that maybe I really did make a difference.
Maybe the moments where we show up for others matter more than we realise.
Maybe the small acts of kindness we offer are sometimes the very things people remember years later.
Then there were the smaller moments.
The ones that might seem insignificant to someone else.
But to me, they felt like little reminders from the universe.
A friend who saw flowers one morning and thought of me, then sent them simply because she wanted to brighten my day.
A gesture with no expectation.
No reason other than kindness.
A moment that said:
“I thought of you.”
And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful feelings in the world.
To know that, somewhere in someone’s day, you crossed their mind.
The studio where I teach also reminded me of something important.
For years, I have been someone who gives.
I support.
I help.
I show up.
It comes naturally to me.
But receiving has always been harder.
Accepting kindness.
Accepting appreciation.
Accepting that people might genuinely want to give something back.
When the studio offered me a free class as a thank you for helping them it touched me deeply.
Not because of the class itself.
But because it represented something I have struggled with for years.
Receiving.
Allowing myself to be appreciated.
Allowing myself to believe that I don’t always have to earn kindness through what I do for others.
Sometimes people simply want to give because they value you.
I don’t believe these moments happened because I suddenly became worthy of love.
I was always worthy.
The difference is that I am finally learning how to receive it.
For so long, I was looking for proof that I wasn’t enough.
Now I am learning to look for proof that I am.
And the evidence was everywhere.
It was in the people who believed in me.
The students who remembered me.
The friends who cared for me.
The places where I had built connections.
The moments I almost overlooked because I was too busy searching for what was missing.
Maybe the universe was never silent.
Maybe it was always communicating with me.
Maybe it wasn’t through huge signs or life-changing moments.
Maybe it was through whispers.
A handwritten letter.
A message from someone whose life I had touched.
Flowers on an ordinary morning.
A simple act of gratitude.
Small reminders that I was seen.
That I mattered.
That I was connected.
That I was loved.
For so many years, I believed I had to fight for everything.
Fight to be seen.
Fight to be valued.
Fight to prove my worth.
But now I am learning something very different.
Life is not always something we have to struggle against.
Sometimes, when we soften.
When we open.
When we stop protecting ourselves from every possible hurt…we create space for love to find us.
And lately, it feels like the universe has been whispering.
“You were never forgotten.”
“You were never alone.”
“You were always worthy.”
And for the first time…I am truly listening.
