The Coveting Problem: Why You Can't Love Someone You're Trying to Possess

There’s a season I’ve been in lately.

One that three years ago, I probably would have laughed at.

I’m in a season where I’ve stopped looking for someone and started looking for myself instead.

And I’m bearing myself a little naked here, but:

And if I’m being honest, it’s been uncomfortable.

Because I’ve had to ask myself a question I wasn’t expecting:

What if God is keeping me out of relationships because there are still parts of me that need healing first?

Not because relationships are bad.

Not because I don’t want one. Trust me, I’m a huge lover girl.

But because I’m starting to realise something about myself that I don’t particularly enjoy admitting.

I don’t think I fully understood the difference between loving someone and needing them.

And those two things can look frighteningly similar.

I was listening to a podcast recently, I listen to way too many podcasts, honestly. Sometimes they’re educational. Sometimes they’re just expensive background noise.

But one comment stopped me.

The conversation was about loving people the way Christ loves us.

And suddenly a thought crossed my mind:

Maybe I’ve been trying to receive from other people what I struggle to give myself.

Then a few days later I came across a quote:

“Consideration is the highest form of love. So if you believe that, why don’t you consider yourself?”

And Yoh… that one sat with me.

Because I couldn’t answer honestly without admitting something I’d spent a long time avoiding.

I don’t think I know how to fully love myself yet.

Not in the way that matters

.

Not in the way God does.

And if I don’t know how to do that... how can I fully love someone else?

Here’s what I’ve discovered about myself.

For a long time, I believed I had to prove myself worthy of love, so I worked hard, I showed up, I gave and gave and gave.

And if I’m honest, somewhere underneath all of that was a quiet hope.

Maybe if someone chooses me, I’ll finally feel chosen and if someone loves me, I’ll finally believe I’m lovable.

It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.

I’m screaming internally even writing this.

But it’s true.

I had unconsciously tied my worth to being wanted and that’s a dangerous place to build your identity.

Because no human being can carry that weight.

This is where the conviction came.

Because when I started looking deeper, I realised I wasn’t always seeing people clearly.

Sometimes I was seeing what they represented.

Comfort.

Validation.

Security.

Affection.

Proof.

And in coveting them, I was disrupting my ability to fully love them.

Because when we’re obsessed with what someone has, what they can do for us, or what they bring into our lives, we stop seeing them as a whole person.

Rather than someone to be known.

When we’re more focused on what someone has, we never really see them. We see a version of them filtered through our own needs and desires. We see them through the lens of what they can give us.

And if we never truly see them, we can never truly love them.

True connection requires seeing people beyond their usefulness to us. It requires curiosity about who they are, not just appreciation for what they provide.

The danger is that we become so obsessed with what we can get from someone that we lose sight of who they are entirely.

And if we’re not careful, we start confusing possession with connection.

Because when someone becomes the answer to our loneliness, insecurity, or need for validation, they stop being someone we love.

They become something we need.

And love cannot grow where possession is living.

“Love your neighbour as yourself.”

Matthew 22:39.

I’ve read that verse a thousand times and I’ve always focused on the first part: Love your neighbour: Love your neighbour. Love people. Serve people. Care for people.

But Jesus sneaks something in there that I never really paid attention to: as yourself.

Which means I have to love myself first, and not in a self-care, bubble-bath, treating-yourself kind of way.

But in a deep, foundational, I-see-myself-the-way-God-sees-me kind of way.

Because if I don’t love myself that way, I can’t actually love my neighbor that way either.

I’ll just be performing love while internally begging for proof that I’m lovable.

Because Scripture also says:

We love because He first loved us.

1 John 4:19

And in loving ourselves, we need to understand this and that He loved us just because. For no reason. Without us proving anything.

That’s the kind of love we need to give ourselves.

Lately I’ve been struggling with romantic relationships and not because I stopped wanting them, I’m a human being and a huge lover girl.

But because I finally saw the pattern.

The pattern was: I was using other people to fill a hole in myself and I was considering others before I considered myself.

I was looking for someone to complete me. To validate me. To finally make me feel like I was enough.

I’ve noticed something in our culture, maybe it’s the age we’re in, or the environment, but we literally see relationships everywhere. It’s like we’re all hunting dogs sniffing out for romantic relationships. Where you can’t look at someone without having the thought: “Hmm... could this be something?”

But that’s not love.

That’s desperation dressed up as openness.

So I made a decision.

To step back. To stop looking. To reflect on why I was looking in the first place.

And it’s been one of the hardest and most necessary decisions I’ve made.

Here’s the thing nobody tells you:

You can know intellectually that God loves you and still feel like you need someone else’s love to prove it.

You can affirm that you’re worthy and still behave like you need romantic validation to confirm it.

You can believe in your heart that you’re valuable and still seek your worth from relationships.

There’s a gap between what we confess and what we embody.

And healing that gap? That’s the real work.

That’s the work that happens in the seasons where nobody’s choosing you.

Where you’re alone with yourself and God.

Where you have to learn to be enough.

This made me think about this differently lately.

What if God isn't withholding something from me?

What if God is protecting me?

What if the reason certain relationships haven't worked out isn't because I'm unlovable?

Not because I’m broken or too much or not enough, but because I’m not ready to love them the way they deserve to be loved.

Because I’m still using romantic relationships to fill a spiritual void and I still think being chosen by someone will fix what only God can heal.

And a relationship built on that foundation isn’t love, it’s codependency dressed up as romance.

Because a relationship built on validation will always feel fragile.

And a relationship built on need will eventually feel exhausting.

I think our culture celebrates relationships more than it celebrates preparation.

We celebrate engagements.

Weddings.

Anniversaries.

Relationship announcements.

But we rarely celebrate the quiet seasons.

The seasons where God is teaching you who you are, where you’re healing, learning how to be whole, and choosing growth over distraction.

And maybe that’s because growth is less visible.

Because this is where the real work happens.

In this season, I’m learning that my worth doesn’t come from being wanted.

I’m learning that being unchosen doesn’t mean I’m unlovable and I can enjoy my own company.

Girl, date yourself more… more of those solo dates.

I’m learning that God’s love isn’t conditional, and I’m learning that self-love isn’t selfish.

It’s stewardship.

Because if I don’t see myself the way God sees me, I’ll keep asking other people to do what only God can do.

You can’t fully love someone else until you know how to love yourself.

And sometimes the kindest thing God can do is keep you alone long enough to learn.

Before I close this, I want to sit with one more thing.

The scripture in Psalm 32:8-9 says:

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you. Do not be like the horse or the mule, which have no understanding, but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.”

We are not meant to be controlled by our desires.

And coveting, whether it’s a person, their attention, their validation, is a form of control.

It’s saying: “I need this from you to feel whole.”

And it chains both of you.

The person you’re coveting can never be free to be themselves, and you can never be free to be yourself either.

You’re both trapped in a dynamic that looks like love but feels like desperation.

If you’re where I am right now. (Yoh I don’t like using the word “waiting” but then i am struggling to find a relevant synonym… )

If you’re wondering why the right relationship hasn’t come yet.

If you’re feeling the sting of being unchosen.

If you’re asking yourself what’s wrong with you that nobody wants you.

Can I offer you a different perspective?

Maybe nothing is wrong with you.

Maybe God is protecting you.

Keeping you in the safety of solitude until you learn to see yourself the way He does.

Until you can love yourself without needing someone else to confirm it.

Until you’re whole enough to be with someone and not need them to make you whole.

That’s not rejection.

That’s grace.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Matthew 22:39

Before you can do this well, you have to do the second part first.

You have to love yourself.

Really love yourself.

Not someday.

Now.

In this waiting season.

That’s where healing begins.

Thank you for reading. Writing these reflections is personal to me, so if this spoke to you, feel subscribe and to pass it along..