By Sori Magid
I sat in therapy today with yesterday’s class still echoing— words about relationship, about God not as ledger but as presence. And something in me cracked open. Because I grew up taking in messages that if I was good, I’d be loved. If I did the right thing, I’d be blessed. If I struggled, I was doing something wrong. If I disappointed, I might lose closeness. So I learned relationships as effort, as pleasing, as earning my place, as staying careful enough not to lose love. So I became careful. I became striving. I became a child trying to be perfect enough to deserve warmth. And underneath it all lived the quieter wound: Maybe I am not worthy. Not just of God. Of love. Of ease. Of being chosen without proving. So when goodness comes now, it does not only comfort me. It changes the meaning of the word relationship. A kindness tells me love may not need to be earned. Care tells me I can be held without performing. Steadiness tells me closeness might survive imperfection. Receiving tells...