How Disappointment in Other People Drove Me Toward Self Love and Self Reliance

 

For a long time, I thought the answer to feeling disappointed by people was to find better people. I thought that if I could just surround myself with people who understood me, cared about me, showed up when I needed them and loved me in the ways I actually needed to be loved, I would finally feel safe enough to relax and stop carrying so much of life on my own shoulders. I kept hoping that the next person would be different, that the next relationship would feel easier, that someone would eventually notice the things I was quietly struggling with without me having to explain every little thing, and that I would finally experience what it feels like to be genuinely considered rather than constantly having to ask to be considered.

What I eventually had to accept was much more uncomfortable than simply admitting that some people had disappointed me. I had to accept that people are limited, that even people who love you can fail you, that people can care about you and still be incapable of giving you what you need, and that waiting for someone else to become the person I needed was keeping me emotionally stuck.

That realization did not happen overnight, and it certainly did not come from some beautiful moment of enlightenment where I suddenly woke up feeling completely independent and confident. It came through disappointment, through repeated moments of realizing that I could not keep expecting other people to rescue me from feelings they had helped create, and through the slow exhaustion that comes from constantly hoping someone else will finally understand what you have been trying to communicate for years.

I think disappointment has a strange way of introducing you to yourself.

When you are constantly looking outward for reassurance, affection, validation, support or emotional safety, you can spend so much energy monitoring other people's behaviour that you barely notice what is happening inside you. You notice whether they text you back, whether they remembered something important, whether they asked how you were feeling, whether they followed through, whether they noticed that you were struggling, whether they made you feel wanted, whether they showed up when it mattered, and after enough disappointment, you can start living in a state of emotional anticipation where your peace depends on what somebody else does next.

I know that feeling very well.

Eventually, I became tired of waiting for people to give me things that I desperately needed to learn how to give myself. That does not mean I stopped wanting love, companionship or meaningful relationships, because I still want those things and I do not believe that self love means pretending we do not need anybody. It means something much more realistic to me now, which is knowing that another person can add love to my life without being responsible for holding my entire sense of worth, stability and emotional survival in their hands.

My disappointment with other people forced me to ask myself a question I had avoided for a long time: what if I stopped waiting for somebody else to make me feel safe and started becoming a safe person for myself? That question changed something in me.

Self reliance was not initially empowering. It was actually quite painful because it meant acknowledging how often I had placed my emotional wellbeing in the hands of people who had never promised they could carry it. I had to stop expecting people to read my mind, stop interpreting somebody else's lack of effort as a reflection of my worth, and stop believing that if I explained myself one more time, loved somebody a little harder or became a little easier to love, I could finally get the treatment I had been hoping for.

I had to learn that disappointment is information.

When somebody repeatedly shows me that they cannot meet me somewhere, I can either spend years standing there waiting for them to change, or I can decide what I am going to do with that information. That does not mean immediately cutting everyone out of my life whenever they disappoint me, because relationships are complicated and people are imperfect, but it does mean paying attention to patterns instead of endlessly negotiating with reality.

Learning this has changed the way I see myself, too.

I no longer want my self esteem to depend on whether somebody chooses me, understands me or approves of me. I want to know that even if somebody misunderstands me, I still know who I am. Even if somebody does not appreciate me, I can appreciate myself. Even if somebody does not show up for me, I can still show up for myself in the ways that are within my control.

That kind of self love is much less glamorous than the version we see online.

It is not always bubble baths, skincare, pretty mornings and buying yourself flowers, although I love those things too. For me, self love has become much more practical and much more uncomfortable. It is respecting my own boundaries when I know I am tempted to abandon them for somebody else. It is taking my own feelings seriously instead of immediately talking myself out of them. It is admitting when something hurts instead of pretending I am fine because I am afraid of being inconvenient. It is learning that I am allowed to leave situations that repeatedly make me feel small, depleted or unseen, even when I desperately wish they could have been different.

Most importantly, it is learning not to abandon myself just because somebody else has.

I think that has been one of the biggest lessons disappointment has given me.

When people let you down repeatedly, it can be tempting to become bitter and decide that nobody can be trusted, that relationships are pointless and that needing anyone is weakness. I understand why that happens, especially when you have been hurt enough times, but I do not want disappointment to turn me into somebody who cannot love anymore. I would rather let it teach me discernment.

I still want people in my life. I still want deep connection. I still want to feel loved, desired, appreciated, understood and cared for. I still want relationships where people make an effort because they genuinely want to, not because I have begged them to. Becoming self reliant has not made me want less from relationships, it has made me less willing to accept the idea that I have to destroy myself trying to get those things.

I can want someone to show up for me without believing I will collapse if they don't. I can appreciate someone's love without making their love the foundation of my identity. I can be disappointed without turning that disappointment into proof that I am unlovable. I can walk away from something that is not good for me without believing that being alone is worse than being unhappy.

It taught me that I am not powerless just because somebody else does not give me what I need.

I cannot control how people behave, how much emotional capacity they have, what they understand, what they prioritize or whether they choose to meet me with the same level of care I offer them. I can control what I accept, what I tolerate, what I communicate, where I put my energy and whether I continue abandoning myself in the hope that somebody else will finally choose me.

For years, I thought self love would come from finally feeling completely loved by other people.

Now I think it can also come from realizing that I do not have to keep begging other people to prove that I am worthy of the love I should have been giving myself all along.

My disappointments did not magically make me stronger, and I would never romanticize being hurt as if pain is some beautiful prerequisite for personal growth. I wish I had learned many of these lessons without having to be disappointed so many times. Still, I cannot change what happened, so I would rather take something valuable from it.

I became more self reliant because I got tired of waiting.

I became more protective of myself because I realized nobody else could do that job perfectly for me.

I learned self love because eventually I understood that I could spend my whole life waiting for other people to treat me the way I wanted to be treated, or I could start treating myself that way.

That does not mean I do not need people.

It means I need myself, too.

Thankful for your presence, Neja