The Lie I Believed

I spent most of my life believing a lie. Not because I was naïve or uneducated but because I was raised in a world where the lie was told so gently, so frequently, and so convincingly, it began to feel like truth.

The lie was this:

“You must earn your worth.”

I didn't get up one day and decided to believe it. Like most of us, I learned it slowly not through words, but through moments. I learned it when I got praise for just getting answers. I learned it when I was brought calm and obedient approval. I learned it when I saw adults rewarded for suppressing pain and punishing him to talk.

Some lies do not come like and shout. Some come in silence.

As a kid, I was the one who tried to do everything right. I wasn’t the loudest or the brightest, but I was the safest. I blended in. I became what people needed me to be not because I wanted to deceive anyone, but because I didn’t know who I was outside of other people’s expectations.

Growing into the Lie

In school, I worked hard. I got the grades. I followed the rules. In jobs, I pushed for perfection, always terrified of being exposed as “not enough.” I wore competence like armor. But inside, I was exhausted.

When people complimented my self-discipline, I smiled. But inside, I wondered:

“Would they still respect me if they saw how much I’m pretending?”

The scary part wasn’t that I believed the lie. The scary part was that the world kept rewarding me for it.

The Breakdown

It took me years - and honestly, a burnout that left me numb to accept that something was wrong. Not with my show, but with the story I told myself who I should be.

I remember that after leaving a job, he sat in his apartment looked perfect on paper. I had checked all the boxes the title of management, decent salary, respected fields. But I was sad. The sound of my head will not stop whispering:

“If you’re not achieving something, you’re nothing.”

That’s when it hit me. That wasn’t my voice.

That was the lie.

Unlearning Begin

Unlike some faith, not like removing a file. It likes to take out a mess that you are packed around each part. You tag it and it comes back.

I started journaling again, not because I had anything deep to say, but because I needed to think myself without a sensor. I left perfection. I drove out the questions. As question:

• Why do I feel guilty when I rest?
• Why do I fear disappointing people more than disappointing myself?
• Who taught me that love had to be earned?

And slowly, painfully, I began rewriting the script.

Reclaiming Myself

I stopped saying yes to things out of guilt.

I started asking for help without feeling like a failure.

I stopped over-explaining.

I started breathing deeper in rooms where I used to shrink.

None of them made me a hero. This made me human.

And that was the real turn realized that I didn't have to be extraordinary to be worthy. I don't have to prove anything. I've already done it.

A New Truth

The lie I believed was loud for a long time. But now, there’s a quieter truth growing in its place:

“You are enough, even when you’re not producing, performing, or perfect.”

It’s not a truth that always feels comfortable. Sometimes the lie still tries to come back. But now, I recognize it. I see it for what it is a relic of someone else’s fear, passed down like an old family myth.

I’ve decided I’m done carrying it.

To Anyone Still Believing the Lie

If you’re reading this and still living under the weight of that same falsehood I see you. You’re not alone.

You are not your productivity.

You are not your achievements.

You are not broken for feeling tired or lost.

You are not weak for wanting peace over praise.

You don’t need to earn your right to breathe easier.

That right was always yours.