The Unseen Struggle for Acceptance

In the quiet recesses of our hearts, we yearn for one thing above all: acceptance. Not the shallow recognition of one’s existence, but the deep, soulful embrace of our essence. The weight of this desire can transform us, pushing us to contort our spirit, to shape our lives to fit the expectations of others. From childhood through every stage of life, this silent craving stays with us, influencing our every action and decision, until we wake up one day and wonder, was it all in vain?

I have spent my life striving to be accepted, not just acknowledged. It wasn’t enough to be seen; I wanted to be truly known, appreciated for who I am, not merely for what I could offer. And so, like a potter shaping clay, I moulded myself to meet the needs of those around me. In the sacred bonds of family, among peers, in the professional world—I gave everything, hoping that the giving would eventually be enough.

But the more I gave, the more it felt like pouring water into a bottomless well. With each passing year, it became clear that no amount of effort, no act of kindness, no sacrifice would fill the void. The words of Ecclesiastes whispered in my ear, “All is vanity, and a striving after the wind.” The more I tried, the more elusive acceptance became, like a shadow that recedes just as you think you’ve caught it.

And it was in this pursuit that my charitable nature was exploited, over and over again. People saw the generosity in me, not as a virtue to honour but as a weakness to exploit. I gave my time, my energy, my wealth, and my goodwill without hesitation, thinking each gesture would finally earn me a place in their hearts. But instead of gratitude, all I received was emptiness. Those whom I had trusted to share in my journey only took from me, draining the very essence of my being, and when they had no more use for me, they moved on, leaving me discarded like an empty vessel.

In the great epic of the Mahabharata, Karna stands as a poignant symbol of generosity exploited. Known for his boundless charity, Karna gave away his armour and earrings, his divine protection, to someone he thought was in need, only to find himself vulnerable in the greatest battle of his life. His kindness, though noble, became his undoing. Like Karna, I too have given pieces of myself—gifts of kindness, time, and forgiveness—believing that in doing so, I would finally find my place in the hearts of those I held dear. But all it did was leave me defenceless.

In professional circles, I went out of my way to assist colleagues, taking on responsibilities that weren’t mine, offering help when it wasn’t asked for, only to be taken advantage of. My goodwill was met with expectations rather than appreciation. It was as if my willingness to give became an unwritten obligation. And when I reached the point where I needed support, I found myself alone, with those I had helped now distant, focused on their own gains. "Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves," says Matthew 10:16, but in my harmlessness, I lost the wisdom to protect myself.

“What is our life but a brief candle, flickering against the winds of time?” Shakespeare's Macbeth reminds us of the fragility of human existence. Like him, we can become lost in the pursuit of recognition, consumed by the need for others to accept us, until one day, we look back and see only shadows, with little substance left to cling to.

In truth, this longing for acceptance often blinds us to a simple fact—that those we seek it from are often too preoccupied with their own desires to give it freely. It is an exhausting truth to confront, but one that many poets have captured with poignancy. In the words of Rumi, “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” Perhaps what we lose in seeking acceptance is the time we could have spent nurturing our own soul.

I reflect on how, in personal relationships too, my charitable heart was often misunderstood. When I gave love, patience, and understanding, it was not met with the same in return. People took what they needed, but never reciprocated. I was always expected to forgive, to overlook, to give without questioning—until I realised, painfully, that my generosity had turned into an expectation, a burden I was forced to carry. And so, I became like a tree constantly pruned of its branches, giving shade to others but left barren and withered inside.

And yet, it is not bitterness that fills my heart. No, it is a quiet resignation, a surrender to the reality of life’s paradoxes. For in the greatest teachings, whether from the Bhagavad Gita or the Bible, we learn that the true essence of life lies not in receiving, but in giving without expectation. “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind,” says Romans 12:2. This is the lesson that has come to me through my journey—a hard-won truth, that I am enough as I am, even if no one ever acknowledges it.

In the lines of Hindi shayari, “ज़िंदगी एक ख़्वाब है, ख़्वाब में झूठ क्या और सच क्या, जिसे चाहा उसे पाया नहीं, जिसे पाया उसे चाहा नहीं।” (Life is but a dream, and in a dream, what is false and what is true? What we desire, we never attain, and what we attain, we never truly desire.) This captures the futility of our constant striving, the endless loop of wanting and never feeling fulfilled.

So here I stand, after a lifetime of giving, of bending myself to fit into the moulds others shaped for me, only to realise that no matter how much I gave, it was never enough. I now see that perhaps it was never about being enough for them, but about learning to be enough for myself.

As I reflect, I realise that this entire journey has been less about being accepted by others and more about accepting myself. The world may not always see us as we wish, but that does not diminish our light. We are, as William Wordsworth so beautifully puts it, “A host of golden daffodils, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.” Our value, like those daffodils, lies in our existence, in our quiet beauty, even if no one stops to admire it.

In the end, maybe true acceptance was never meant to come from others. Maybe it’s about finding it within, in the quiet corners of our soul, where divine grace whispers the truth that we have always been enough.

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This journey, though filled with sorrow and unspoken pain, is not one of defeat but of quiet triumph. For in letting go of the world’s elusive acceptance, we find the peace of knowing ourselves. And that, perhaps, is the greatest victory of all.