There are days when I feel as though I should not
exist. That I have somehow stolen a place in this world that was never meant
for me. On those days, even the smallest gestures of kindness feel misplaced,
undeserved. A text message from a friend, a warm meal set before me, the simple
act of being addressed by name—each one bears the weight of an unbearable debt,
one I can never repay because I am, at my core, unworthy.
Unworthiness is a strange thing. It does not come with
grand, sweeping tragedy. It creeps in, silent and insidious, often disguised as
humility or self-awareness. It convinces you that you are being rational when
you question whether you deserve the very fundamentals of human existence—food,
shelter, dignity. It presents itself not as a feeling, but as an undeniable
fact. And once it has taken root, it is difficult to see yourself outside its
shadow.
The Human Tendency Toward Self-Doubt
This feeling is not unique. It is embedded in our
literature, our philosophy, our very understanding of what it means to be
human. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote of ‘bad faith’—the lies we tell ourselves about
who we are and what we are worth. He argued that we often accept an identity
that has been handed to us, instead of creating one for ourselves. Similarly,
Franz Kafka’s characters stumble through life as if they are on trial for their
very existence, condemned not by any crime, but by the sheer weight of being.
Even the ancient Greeks understood this phenomenon. In
The Odyssey, Odysseus, despite his cunning and heroism, frequently
doubts his own worth, fearing that he may never return home, that he may not be
enough for the gods or his family. And in our own modern world, this sentiment
has not disappeared. If anything, it has been magnified by a society that
measures human value through productivity, achievement, and social validation.
The Psychology of Unworthiness
Psychologists often link feelings of unworthiness to
early experiences of rejection, neglect, or comparison. When love and
validation feel conditional—based on performance, obedience, or success—we
begin to internalize the belief that we are only as valuable as what we
provide. The moment we falter, the moment we cannot meet an expectation, we
feel as though we have lost our right to be seen, to be cared for.
This is why even basic human needs can feel
undeserved. If worth is tied to action, then inactivity—failure, exhaustion,
sadness—becomes proof of our lack of value. We believe that if we are not
giving, then we should not be receiving. And so, we shrink. We push away
kindness. We refuse to ask for help. We punish ourselves for our own existence.
The Fiction of Deserving
But here is the truth: worthiness is not something to
be earned. It is not a reward for good behaviour, nor is it a privilege granted
to the few. It is, simply, the right to be. The very fact that you are here,
breathing, thinking, feeling, means that you belong.
To say ‘I do not deserve love’ is to assume that love
is something transactional, something that must be justified. But love, at its
core, is not a commodity—it is a recognition. It is the acknowledgement of
another’s existence, of their presence in the world. It is given not because
someone has proven themselves, but because they are here. And that is enough.
To say ‘I do not deserve food’ is to ignore the
fundamental truth that survival is not a privilege—it is a birthright. No tree
must prove its worth before it can take in sunlight. No river must justify its
existence before it can flow. Why, then, must a human being convince themselves
that they are worthy of sustenance?
Moving Beyond the Narrative
The first step in dismantling unworthiness is
recognising it as a story, not a truth. It is a narrative that has been
constructed—through experience, through culture, through a thousand whispered
doubts—but it is not fixed. It can be rewritten.
There is no simple solution. No single piece of advice
can erase the years of conditioning that have made you feel this way. But there
are moments—small, fleeting moments—where you can challenge the story. You can
accept a compliment without arguing against it. You can eat a meal without
believing you must first ‘earn’ it. You can remind yourself, over and over,
that you are not an imposter in your own life.
Literature, philosophy, and psychology all tell us
that to be human is to doubt, to wrestle with our own significance. But they
also tell us that we are never alone in it. Every piece of art, every great
novel, every timeless poem exists because someone, somewhere, felt as you do
now—and they wrote it down, in the hope that another might feel less alone.
And if they are worthy of being heard, then so are
you.
A Final Thought
If you are reading this, then something inside you is
looking for proof that you matter. And while I cannot give you that proof, I
can remind you of this: your existence is not conditional. You are not an
equation to be solved or a problem to be fixed. You are not valuable because of
what you do, what you give, or how well you perform. You are valuable because
you are.
And that is enough.
Works Cited
Brown, Brené. The Gifts of Imperfection.
Hazelden Publishing, 2010.
Camus, Albert. The Myth of Sisyphus. Translated
by Justin O’Brien, Vintage International, 1991.
Kafka, Franz. The Trial. Translated by David
Wyllie, Project Gutenberg, 1925.
Neff, Kristin. Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of
Being Kind to Yourself. HarperCollins, 2011.
Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness.
Translated by Hazel E. Barnes, Washington Square Press, 1956.