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Part 1: Choosing Love When Approval Comes at a Price

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My mother did not raise me with hugs or bedtime stories. She raised me with rules, standards, and expectations that never rested. I attended the best schools. I learned piano before I learned how to express frustration. I practiced posture, eye contact, and gratitude notes written in perfect cursive. Every mistake was a lesson. Every success only raised the bar higher.

She wasn’t preparing me for happiness. She was preparing me to endure.

By the time I reached my late twenties, I understood something important. No matter how accomplished I became, my mother’s approval would always remain just out of reach. And slowly, quietly, I stopped chasing it.

Ezoic

That was around the time I met Anna.

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