When Love Was Inconsistent

Many people grow up not knowing which version of themselves will be met with warmth, and which will be met with distance.

When acceptance isn’t guaranteed, it can start to feel conditional. It may arrive with achievement and fade with struggle. It may show up during performance and disappear with vulnerability.

Because it can’t be predicted, reading the room becomes necessary. The smallest shifts in tone, expression, or silence start to matter. You become careful and perceptive, because inconsistency requires it.

When love shows up this way, you begin searching for the pattern. What version of me works today? What keeps connection close? You learn to adjust and refine, because being flawless can feel like the most reliable way to stay connected.

This is where perfectionism often begins.

Not from a lack of love, but from love that had conditions. It leaves you still adjusting, still trying to get it right, even when there’s no one left to perform for.

Understanding where it came from doesn’t make it disappear. But it can create distance, and sometimes a little compassion. The question becomes: is this still protecting me, or am I answering to a version of safety I don’t need anymore?