The Morning Weight of Feeling Unwanted

Some mornings, I wake up and feel it before I even open my eyes—a kind of emotional fog. It’s not exhaustion or sadness exactly. It’s the heaviness of not feeling needed. Not by anyone. Not for anything. Just… there. Awake. Breathing. Existing.

It’s a quiet kind of ache, one that doesn’t scream but hums just beneath the surface. And it’s not always rooted in something someone said or did. Sometimes it just shows up, uninvited, settling in beside me like it owns the place.

This feeling doesn’t mean I’m not loved or valued—it means I’m human. It means I crave connection. It means I want to be seen for who I really am, not just for the things I can or can’t do.

I’ve had to work harder than most to find my place in the world. I’ve had to rebuild myself, redefine what “useful” and “worthy” mean to me. Some days I can laugh about it, especially when I turn these thoughts into stand-up material. Other days, I sit with them, writing them out to understand them better.

But I’m learning. I’m learning that feeling unwanted in a moment doesn’t define my worth. That being needed isn’t the same as being loved. And that some mornings, the bravest thing I can do is simply get up, breathe, and trust that the feeling will pass—and that I’ll still be standing (or sitting) when it does.