why do I need constant reassurance

My phone was lighting up with another message, and I knew what it would be about before I opened it. The cycle was familiar by then—every day, another round of talking, doing everything I could to make him feel okay. I loved him more than anything, and I wanted to do whatever it took to make him happy, but it was never just one conversation. It was a routine that reset every morning, no matter how much I’d poured into it the day before.

I would spend what felt like all my energy trying to reassure him. I would talk, reassure, explain, try to help him understand that things were alright. It didn’t matter how much I said or did; the next day, it was like none of it had ever happened. The effort just evaporated overnight.

He wasn’t the only person in my life who needed that kind of reassurance from me, but with him, it was relentless. It started to take a toll I couldn’t ignore. There were times when I had to step away completely—one or two weeks at a time—just to stop feeling so drained. I needed those breaks, not because I cared less, but because I was running on empty.

During those breaks, I would see posts online or hear things in therapy groups. People would say, “It’s not that hard to give you reassurance, you just don’t love them,” or, “If they need a break from you and not reassure you, they don’t really love you.” Every time, it stung. Nobody talked about the exhaustion that comes from being the one who has to reassure, the strain of trying so hard to help someone feel okay only for it to never seem like it matters the next day.

What hurt most was feeling invisible in those conversations. The world seemed to say that if you need space, you’re cold, or you don’t love enough. But I knew how much I loved him, and how hard I tried, even when it left me completely worn out.

Things aren’t as constant now, but sometimes I still need to take a break for a week or two to recover. The messages and group conversations haven’t changed; they still ignore what it’s like to be on this side. I keep loving, I keep trying, but I still see my own exhaustion go unnoticed.