It's a strange thing to place our own worth in someone else's hands and then get angry with them when they don't treat it the way we would like them to.

And yet, that's exactly what we do.

We look for ourselves in the eyes of our children. How do they see us?

In the eyes of our partner. Our parents. Our boss. Our friends. Even in the eyes of complete strangers.

Do they seek us out? Do they call? Do they miss us? Do they ask for our opinion? Do people still turn their heads to look at us in the street? Are we needed?

And little by little, we piece together how much we are worth from these small signs of recognition.

The child whose whole world once revolved around you barely calls anymore.

The man who once couldn't keep his hands off you now prefers to look at his phone in the evenings.

At the workplace where you were indispensable for years, suddenly everything runs perfectly well without you.

The friendship you thought would last forever slowly loses its closeness.

And after fifty, even the mirror starts showing you details you hadn't agreed upon back when you were thirty.

If I knew I mattered because I was needed, then who am I when I'm no longer needed?

If I knew I was an attractive woman because people desired me, what happens to me when someone no longer desires me?

If I knew I was valuable because people counted on me, am I worth less on the day they manage perfectly well without me?

Because it's so easy to become angry with the world when it suddenly stops confirming what we have come to believe about ourselves through other people's eyes.

The child is ungrateful. The man is blind. The boss is an idiot. The friend has changed.

And obviously, the Facebook algorithm has declared a personal vendetta against us. 😄

Maybe.

But why did I need them so badly to tell me who I am?

You can spend years analysing other people's behaviour.

It's much harder to notice how many people we've left a little piece of our own identity with.

Who we were in their eyes:

The beloved woman. The desirable man. The good mother. The indispensable colleague. The best friend. The person everyone needed.

And when all of that disappears, a much simpler question remains:

Who am I when nobody is reflecting my worth back to me?

I don't want to reach a point where I don't need anyone.

We need one another.

It feels good to be loved. To be missed. To be desired. To matter to someone. To have someone look at us and feel happy simply because we are here.

But there's a difference between being happy that you love me and needing your love to know that I am lovable.

I need you. I love you. I miss you. You matter to me.

But you don't get to decide how much I'm worth.

And I know this question from my work as a therapist and helping professional, too.

I know where my responsibility ends.

I work with people. Many experience tremendous changes. They come back and tell me how much has happened since they became different people and life became easier for them. They tell me how much our shared work has meant to them. Many recommend me to others.

And, of course, there are also those who don't come back. Those who don't make changes. Those who choose something else.

If I wanted to measure how good I am at what I do based on that, my self-worth would depend on who happened to be sitting across from me that day.

And yet, I know I'm damn good at what I do. 😄

That doesn't mean I can make decisions, change or live on behalf of anyone else.

And just as in my work, I no longer want to place this measuring stick in someone else's hands in my personal relationships either.

I need you. I love you. I miss you. You matter to me.

But you don't get to decide how much I'm worth.

It feels good when you love me. It feels good to know I matter to you. It feels good when you say it out loud.

But I also know that I am valuable and lovable even when nobody happens to tell me so.

Because I don't need you to tell me who I am.

I want you in my life because I love you, believe in you and enjoy being with you.

And because seeing the joy in your eyes brings me joy, too.

Between Heaven and Earth,

Dajbukát Ildikó

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