From Self-Love to Being Loved: Why Accepting Love Feels So Hard.

Kristina Kotouckova
Mar 4
3 min read

Updated: Jun 11

Maybe the secret isn’t waiting for the right person to create a safe space for us to be ourselves. Maybe the real work is creating that space within ourselves.

Do we believe we deserve the love we seek?

At the end of the day, do we truly believe that we deserve the kind of love we long for? Or, more importantly, do we even know what it feels like to be genuinely loved—without expectations, without conditions—just for who we are?

The unexpected question that changed everything.

Driving home from seeing a friend, I felt my mood slowly shift. The past few days had been filled with joy, yet this quiet sense of sadness crept in, as if something had been left unaddressed. As I sat alone in my car, a question surfaced—unexpected, unfiltered: Do you think you are worth people loving you?

The moment those words left my lips, something inside me shattered. Tears spilled from my eyes before I even understood why. It was as if this single question unlocked a truth I had been avoiding—one that defined the way I navigated love, connection, and relationships.

Is it really commitment issues—or something deeper?

For years, I convinced myself that my hesitation in relationships stemmed from commitment issues. The fear of being tied to another person, of losing my freedom. But this moment showed me otherwise.

It wasn’t commitment that scared me—it was the very idea that someone might want to love me. That someone could choose me, not for what I bring, not for what I offer, but simply because I exist.

Do you believe you deserve the love you’re looking for?

Have we ever truly asked ourselves if we believe we deserve the love we seek? Do we even know what it feels like to be loved without conditions?

Not for our achievements. Not for our intelligence. Not for our ability to hold an interesting conversation. But simply because we are here—because we exist, and that alone is enough.

Uncomplicated kindness. Pure love. A presence that pours into us without requiring anything in return.

If we’ve never felt it, how can we believe it’s real?

When love becomes something you have to earn.

For those raised with love that felt conditional—something given only in exchange for success, achievements, or effort—it’s easy to fall into the role of the chaser. Always pursuing, always proving, always trying to be enough.

I never questioned whether I felt worthy of love. Instead, I focused on self-love—on liking myself, on appreciating my own presence. But this realization showed me something deeper: loving myself doesn’t automatically mean I believe others will love me, let alone unconditionally.

No matter how much I claim to trust myself, I still feel the pull when someone offers me even the smallest amount of genuine care. And I wonder—how many of us unknowingly carry this burden into our relationships?

Learning to accept love without fear.

I don’t walk through life believing that I am undeserving of love. But when it’s given—when it’s real, raw, and unconditional—I feel fear creeping in.

When someone I care about offers me love so freely, I want to pull away. I convince myself that something will ruin it—a mistake, an imperfection, a moment of vulnerability too raw to bear. I assume love is fragile, fleeting. That if I show too much, reveal too much, it will disappear.

And then I am left with nothing but the memory of how good it once felt to be seen. To be understood. To be accepted without conditions.

The path to allowing love In.

But I’m starting to embrace that vulnerable side of myself. Not just in romantic relationships, but with family, friends, acquaintances.

It’s terrifying—this part of us we so often keep hidden until it feels safe. But perhaps the truth is that it’s always safe—as long as we allow it to be.

Maybe the secret isn’t waiting for the right person to create a safe space for us to be ourselves. Maybe the real work is creating that space within ourselves.

And once we do, love no longer feels like something we must earn. It simply becomes something we allow.