I'm Worth It (A Letter to the Men Who Want to Step Up)

I’m worth it. Not sometimes. Not when it’s "convenient". Not when it’s "easy". Always.

I’m worth the effort it takes for someone to truly see me, to understand me, to get close. And I won’t apologize for needing more than the average person might give. Because I am not average. I never have been.

Yes, I am broken—but broken doesn’t mean unworthy. Broken doesn’t mean flawed beyond repair. My scars, my past, my fears—they are all pieces of who I am, and they deserve love too. My predominant love language is action. Words are important, but I want someone who will show up. Someone who will step in and help rebuild me when life—or people—have chipped away at me.

Sometimes, I’m wild and carefree. I’ll dance, sing, be hyper. I’ll laugh so loud I snort, make sarcastic, witty, dry remarks. I’ll poke fun. I’ll be “extra”—extra loud, extra needy, extra lovey. I show up fully in those moments, and I need someone who can meet me there, who can love me in the bright, messy, exuberant light of who I am.

Other times, I’m silent. I lie in bed with headphones on, shutting the world out. I stay in sweats, keep my hair in a messy, unwashed bun, and sometimes I cry. Those days are heavy. My past can feel louder than my present can fight, and my emotions can feel overwhelming. Even on those days, I am worth it.

Sometimes, I will want to touch constantly. Sometimes, I will want to crawl into their skin and love them unapologetically. Other days, I won’t want to be touched at all. I’ll cry during disagreements because I feel deeply. I’ll throw anger like daggers. Loving me won’t be easy. I have a massive heart, and with that comes massive emotions. I don’t do happy or sad, or angry—I do exuberant, distraught, raging. Nothing about me is simple.

And then there’s my health. Some days I physically can’t get out of bed. Plans will get canceled. I’ll be sore, sad, angry, or crying. I’ll bloat, struggle with how my body reacts to something as simple as sugar or toast, and hate that I live in a body that can pull the rug out from under me without warning. Those days, I need patience. I need to be reminded that my worth isn’t defined by my health or by the limitations my body sometimes imposes. I hate those days more than anyone else. I hate not being dependable, not being whole. But on those days, I need my person to be strong for both of us, steady enough to love me through the chaos I can’t control.

Nothing I need in a partner is unrealistic. I need reassurance, patience, kindness, tenderness, communication, respect, softness. I need someone who will help me see the good in myself when I can’t. Someone who will speak love into me and encourage me to grow, even when the world has made me doubt my worth. I need someone who will help me find strength in vulnerability, confidence in self-reflection, and joy in the small victories that often go unnoticed.

It’s okay that my standards are higher. It’s okay that my needs are higher. Because my heart is not average, and the person who can meet me here is not average either. They will not fear my complexity—they will embrace it. They will not shy away from my brokenness—they will help me turn it into wholeness.

When someone gets close to me, fully, without reservation, that is how I will know they are the one. That is how I will know they are willing to love me in the ways that matter. I am worth it. Always. And anyone who wants to be with me should know: they will need to be worthy too.

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So, if you want to love me, know this: you’ll need to show up for all of me—the wild, the quiet, the loud, the broken, the exuberant, the raw. You’ll need to see me when I shine and hold me when I falter. You’ll need to be patient when my body betrays me, when my emotions spill over, when my heart aches in ways I can’t always explain.

But if you can do that—if you can meet me here—you’ll find a love that’s fearless, fierce, and unshakable. A love that burns brightly, that demands honesty, that never settles for half-heartedness. You’ll find someone who will give everything she has, even when she feels like there’s nothing left. Someone who will fight for you, laugh with you, and cry with you. Someone who will be unafraid to show you the most vulnerable corners of her soul, because she trusts you enough to do so.

I am worth that. My heart is worth that. And I will give it fully—every day, in all its complexity. Because the one who’s meant for me will not just see me; they will know me, in every messy, beautiful, unstoppable way. And when they do… I will love them with a depth that cannot be measured, with a fire that cannot be dimmed, and with a loyalty that is unbreakable.

Always.