Choosing Alignment Over Being Chosen

I recently wrote this article for a magazine called The Relatable Voice and wanted to share it with you. I've been so guilty in the past of blaming others for what I was allowing. So here are my thoughts on this: 

 

We've all been there - standing in the middle of a storm, calling it love. White-knuckling red flags. Explaining away discomfort. Convincing ourselves that intensity means depth. If we're truly honest with ourselves, these things rarely start dramatic. Most storms begin with subtle shifts in the air - a comment that feels slightly dismissive, a boundary that gets brushed aside, a gut instinct that whispers, “Something's off.” But instead of listening, we rationalize. And when it eventually unravels, we look for a label.

 

Narcissist. Toxic. Manipulator.

 

Sometimes those words are accurate. But often, they're just a scapegoat. They're a way to deflect responsibility. They're easier than looking at the pattern - our own patterns.

 

If you've spent your life wanting to be chosen, you get very good at silencing the whispers. I certainly did. I became an expert at re-reading text messages to decode tone, convincing myself that a canceled plan “wasn't a big deal,” and allowing breadcrumbs to replace true effort. I was the queen of saying, “I'll prove I'm worthy,” because I wanted the story to work. We convince ourselves that the other person will change over time. And when things don't work out, we end up attracting the same type of person in a different body, settling out of fear of being alone. More often than not, this person wasn't aligned with who we truly are.

 

For years, I mistook intensity for intimacy. I mistook anxiety for passion. I mistook potential for partnership. The very sad truth is - I wasn't falling in love - I was chasing the feeling of being chosen.

 

And that is a very dangerous space to build a life from. Because when you're chasing the feeling of being chosen, you will tolerate almost anything to keep it. I didn't really know any better. We rarely do. And I see this every single day with my clients. Hell, I lived it my entire life.

 

Despite being in a successful band and having a published book focused on personal transformation, I had no idea how much weight and shame from my past I was still carrying. Success can mask insecurity. Confidence can hide the cracks in our self-worth. It took someone breaking my heart over and over again for me to finally sit still long enough to examine my own patterns - not just what they were doing, but what I was allowing.

 

Everything showing up for me was matching my energy. I was tolerating inconsistency, so inconsistency kept finding me. And that was the harder truth.

 

It wasn't just that they were inconsistent. It wasn't just that they were selfish. It wasn't just that they didn't show up the way I needed. It was that I kept choosing people who required me to overextend, over-prove, and over-give because that was what I was used to doing.

 

It all boiled down to something I didn't want to admit: my self-worth was conditional.

 

I always thought I had self-worth because I was confident. I was bold. I was successful. But confidence is how you show up in a room. Self-worth is how you allow others to treat you in one. And those are two very different things.

 

Here's the part that stings a little.

If every relationship ends with the same story…
If every partner feels selfish…
If every breakup leaves you asking, “Why do I always attract this?” At some point, we have to stop diagnosing them and start examining ourselves.

 

Not to shame. Not to blame. But to reclaim our power. To be so clear on what we want that we clearly see red flags and have the strength to say, “No, this really isn't for me.” 

 

 

We don't ignore red flags because we're foolish. We ignore them because we want the story to work. We want the chemistry to mean something. We want the potential to become promise. We want to be chosen. And sometimes wanting to be chosen is louder than our intuition.

 

Here's the truth.

Not everyone who hurt you is a narcissist. Some were selfish. Some were emotionally immature. Some simply weren't capable of loving you the way you needed. And some were just not aligned with who you are - or who you're becoming.

And that's okay.

 

Every experience reveals something about us - what we tolerate, what we ignore, and what we're finally ready to change.

Misalignment isn't a character flaw. It's information. Red flags aren't always sirens. Sometimes they're subtle misalignments asking you to trust yourself. The real work isn't becoming better at spotting villains. It's becoming braver about honoring your own standards.

 

Because when your self-worth stabilizes, you stop chasing storms. You start choosing alignment. Alignment feels very different than chaos. It feels calm. It feels mutual. It feels like you don't have to convince yourself.

 

That's not boring. That's healthy. And that's where real connection finally has room to land. Real change begins in being honest about where you might still be negotiating your standards in exchange for being chosen. 🩷

 

I hope you have the most beautiful weekend.

 

I love you, 

Lindsay M.