I realized I was raised to be useful, not loved.

I’m the eldest daughter in an immigrant family. Since I can remember, my worth came from what I could do, watching my siblings, cooking, translating, fixing problems. When I achieved something, my parents would say, “We’re proud of what you did,” never “We’re proud of who you are.”

Now as an adult, I don’t know how to just exist without feeling like I have to earn my place. I crave love that isn’t conditional on my productivity but I have no idea how that even looks.