There’s a kind of love that feels like holding a mirror up to someone who refuses to look. You try to show them their worth, their beauty, their goodness. They always turn away, convinced they don’t deserve any of it. Loving someone who doesn’t believe they deserve to be loved is one of the hardest, most exhausting, and yet most sacred things I’ve ever experienced.

I know what that feels like on both sides.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t believe I deserved love. I carried shame for things I thought were my fault when really, they weren’t. People who were supposed to protect me didn’t. They failed me. And instead of being cared for, I learned to carry the weight of it all myself. Addiction became the way I protected myself and didn’t even know it. It was my shield against pain I didn’t know how to face and against truths I wasn’t ready to admit. When people tried to love me, I couldn’t accept it. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t believe I was worthy of it.

And here’s the thing. I couldn’t just “fix” myself like a mechanic working on a car. I couldn’t swap out a broken part and make it all work again. Healing doesn’t work that way. It took time, love, and people who showed up for me when I couldn’t show up for myself.

Now, years later, I see that same struggle in people I love.

I see it in my kids sometimes. Trauma can leave scars that don’t fade overnight. They’ll push back, break rules, test limits. All not because they don’t want love, but because they’re terrified it won’t last. They’re afraid if they accept it, it’ll disappear like it has before. And as a dad, that cuts deep. I want to show them every day that they are worthy of love, no matter what. But some days it feels like pouring water into a cup with a hole in it. It leaks out all over, and I wonder if I’m making any difference at all.

I’ve seen it in my marriage too. My wife is brilliant, strong, and full of fire, but even she has moments when she struggles to believe she deserves the care and love I try to give. Life hasn’t always been fair to her, and those battles don’t just vanish because someone loves you. And as much as I wish I could fix it all, I’ve had to learn that I’m not a mechanic. I can’t just pop the hood, swap out a part, and have everything running smooth again. Love doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t mean repairing someone. It means showing up, again and again, with patience and consistency, even when the other person can’t fully receive it.

I won’t lie. Sometimes it just hurts. It hurts to pour love into someone and feel like it’s not landing. It hurts to stand steady while someone you care for pulls away. But here’s what I’ve learned. Love isn’t about fixing someone else. It’s about being a presence, a safe place, a reminder.

I know you don’t always see your worth, but I see it. And I’ll keep reminding you. Even when you push me away, I’m still here. Even when you feel like you don’t deserve love, I’m not going to stop giving it. And even if you run away from it, I will still love you and care for you.

That’s the kind of love I want my kids to grow up seeing. A love that stays. A love that doesn’t measure worthiness. A love that understands brokenness and still shows up.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all had seasons where we didn’t feel deserving. And the only way we break through those lies is by loving each other in the middle of it, not just once they’ve healed.

So, if you’re loving someone who doesn’t want to be loved, know this. Your patience, your consistency, your care. It matters. It may not always feel like it, but every act of love plants a seed. One day those seeds will grow into the belief they couldn’t hold for themselves and that they were loved all along.