We Attract the Things We Need to Validate the Story Within

samantha francis
Jun 30
2 min read

You’ve probably heard: “Like attracts like.”

“You attract what you believe you deserve.”

But here’s what no one’s telling you:

You don’t attract what you deserve. You attract what keeps your identity safe, even if it hurts.

This is why the most emotionally intelligent, self-aware, “I’ve done the healing” women still find themselves:

Attracting unavailable partners
Managing friendships that constantly drain them
Over-functioning in work environments that undervalue them
Feeling like they’re too much or not enough no matter how regulated they try to be

This isn’t because you’re broken. It’s because your nervous system is still wired to seek out proof of the story it knows best.

The Invisible Story That’s Running Your Relationships

If the story inside you says, “I’m too much to be loved.” “People leave.” “I have to earn closeness.”

Then guess what happens?

You unconsciously pick the partner who talks about emotional depth but panics when it happens.
You become the emotional crutch in friendships, the one who’s always helping but never truly feels.
You overdeliver at work, undercharge, take the blame, and call it “being a team player.”
You chase safety by being easy, understanding, and palatable, while secretly shrinking inside.

This Is Not About Worth. It’s About Identity.

Your nervous system doesn’t care about what’s healthy. It cares about what’s familiar.

If chaos taught you love, you’ll call stability boring. If inconsistency taught you attachment, you’ll call clarity overwhelming.

This is why boundaries eventually collapse. This is why affirmations only scratch the surface. This is why “better communication” doesn’t fix the ache.

Because the story inside, the identity, hasn’t shifted.

When the Identity Changes, Everything Does.

Imagine this:

You walk into a date, and your first thought isn’t “Do they like me?” it’s “Does this feel good for me?”
You notice the friend who always trauma-dumps… and instead of rescuing, you let the silence speak.
You stop second-guessing your tone in a meeting. You’re not softer to be liked. You’re clear to be understood.
You feel safe resting. Safe receiving. Safe being adored.

Because now, your body isn’t scanning for what it was taught. It’s anchored in the identity of someone who’s safe to be loved, without performance.