Connection is essential to us as human beings. It gives us a sense of belonging, of being loved, of being safe. Yet for me, connection has always felt difficult — elusive, even. People often tell me I just haven’t met the right people, or that it’s normal to feel disconnected at times. But the more I’ve explored this, the more I’ve realised that growing up, I taught myself that “connection” was something I had to earn by getting other people’s attention.
I learned early on that attention came when I was “good” — when I was kind, when I accommodated my mum’s emotional needs, when I tried to be perfect. It made me feel safe. It made me feel loved. It reassured me that the people I cared about wouldn’t leave me. Over time, I realised that equating connection with attention wasn’t healthy — not for me, and not for my relationships.
For a long time, every shift in attention felt like a storm. If my partner seemed distracted, distant, or even if someone else simply displayed confidence or beauty, my mind would spiral: “What does this mean about me? Am I not enough anymore? Am I being replaced?” It was hard to believe that love could exist — that I could still be safe — even when attention shifted. It was hard to believe that someone could love me simply for being, not just for doing.
Over time, I started to realise that connection is perhaps something simpler: the sense of being truly seen — a place of acceptance, a feeling of closeness that doesn’t depend on perfection, achievements, or constant attention. Perhaps it’s never been that complicated. Maybe all I have to do is allow myself to be seen — imperfect, human, and still worthy of love.
Equating attention with connection made every shift feel threatening, like the constant ebb and flow of an ocean tide putting my relationship at risk. But with this understanding, I realised that if attention is the tide, connection is more like a lighthouse standing on the shore. The tide naturally flows in and out. Sometimes we are fully present with each other, sharing closeness and care. Other times, life pulls our focus elsewhere. Work happens. Responsibilities happen. Friendships exist. The tide moves — and that movement is normal.
And as the waves move around the lighthouse, it remains steady. Love, like the lighthouse, can endure even when attention shifts. Underneath it all, the longing is simple: to be seen for who I am, not just what I do. To be human, imperfect, vulnerable — and still worthy of love. To remember that connection is not earned, it is felt, and it can exist even when attention moves, like a lighthouse standing through the changing tide.
