Abandonment Does Not Define Your Worth

 Since my accident, I have felt completely worthless. I have been shamed and disgraced. I was discarded from friend groups that wouldn’t be friends if it weren’t for me. My best friends replaced me. The first boy I ever loved told me I was a threat to society. I was used, abandoned, forgotten. For fifteen years, this has shaped how I see myself: irrelevant, replaceable, like my existence is a net negative—or at best, a big fat zero. Even though, for the first sixteen years of my life, all I ever did was make the people around me feel better.

I recently asked a friend why he loved me—why I mattered to him. He told me it was because I have infinite worth. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I needed more than just “infinite worth.” I wanted to know why I mattered to him. I wanted him to tell me how I helped him, or shaped him, why/how I am unique and irreplaceable to him.

Then my mom gave me an analogy that provided another perspective. She said our time on Earth is like a big puzzle. Without even one piece, the puzzle isn’t complete. That means every person is irreplaceable—not because of what they do, but simply because they belong. Even though that analogy sounds great, the abandonment, the pain, the heartache has attacked my internal worth for the last fifteen years. It didn’t affect me much on a personal level. But it did sound like a great illustrator to help you see what I’m trying to explain—and maybe it can begin to shift my mindset, even though that means rewiring a hard fifteen years.

Part of my problem has been that I didn’t have the right language for this. Semantics really is a big deal after TBI—and my speech therapist will attest to that! Once I was able to separate worth and value, things began to shift.

My worth is infinite, inherent, and unearned. It doesn’t change whether I’m having a good day or a terrible one. It doesn’t depend on what anyone else thinks or how many people show up for me. Worth is who I am as a child of God—equal to everyone else, neither better nor worse.

Value, on the other hand, can often feel transactional. It’s how we see the effect we have on others and the world around us. That value exists whether or not someone else recognizes it—but our ability to feel that value is often tied to whether they reflect it back to us. Our perception of value is what’s fragile and fleeting. Heavenly Father sees the whole picture—the eternal perspective—and so He can see our full value, even when we can’t.

I still don’t feel valued or appreciated. The loneliness of feeling irrelevant and unseen has left me with zero value in my own eyes. But I’ve finally been able to begin to understand that I still have worth, even though I don’t feel valued or appreciated. I’m trying to embrace it when someone tells me I make a difference, when someone shows they see me.

If you’re struggling with worth, remember that your worth is no different than anyone else’s.
If you’re struggling with value, try to remember that your value doesn’t disappear just because others don’t reflect it back to you. It’s not about productivity or recognition. It’s about the impact you make, even when you can’t see it.
And if you’ve been like me for the last fifteen years, maybe just knowing there’s a difference between worth and value might help. I hope so.