If I invite myself, was I ever really wanted?

The other week I went to a kid’s birthday party, which is something my few loved ones always question, knowing how sensitive I am to feelings that I don’t matter, especially around my relatives. I decided to ignore them and go anyway, telling myself I’d be fine with it all. But deep down, the real reason why I pushed myself to go was that I was trying to protect myself from not belonging and being struck off a guest list forever. I couldn’t handle that.

So I’m at the party, and I bump into a distant relative who randomly says I can come over to their house anytime. It came up a few times that day from other distant relatives. Each time, I felt confused. I struggled to take the offer seriously. Because in my eyes, there was no real relationship there, just the kind that exists out of obligation. No check-ins, no phone calls, not even text exchanges from either side.

I don’t like how it puts the responsibility on me to invite myself into your home. It turns it into whether I want to see you, not whether you want to see me. And the moment I actually act on it, I’m the only one taking the risk. A risk that feels like self-abuse, because I’m pushing myself into a space where I already feel unwanted. Even the act of initiating it is terrifying, with that loud voice in my head saying they don’t really want you, they’re just being polite. If I have to invite myself, was I ever really wanted?

But when you have a secure relationship with someone, there’s an unspoken understanding. You don’t need permission, and you know you’re genuinely welcome anytime. Outside of that, the words feel empty, and I need something concrete.

I need to know that I am actually wanted.