sacrifice looks better on paper
- a personal essay about performance, resentment and finally letting go
Alicent Hightower — my beautiful, complex queen.
By the end of season two of House of the Dragon, you hate her — but you can’t help but understand her. Her entire life has been dedicated to the realm and satisfying the demands of her father.
By her 30s, she’s spent years watching her best friend exist outside the confines of the patriarchal system. Alicent is married off to the king and has a litter of children she never wanted, all to fuel her father’s political gain. She becomes a pawn in the Targaryen chess match. And she’s resentful.
So when her son loses an eye (rightfully so) at the hands of Rhaenyra’s children — and her husband still sides with his daughter — Alicent breaks.
The weight of expectations can drown you. I think about my own journey toward selfhood and who I want to be. I’ve decided I’m tired of being the sacrificial lamb.
There has never been a moment in my life where I haven’t been on. I don’t consider myself a relaxed person — in fact, I’m wound so tight I can’t sleep past 9 A.M., or take a midday nap without feeling guilty. Because who am I if I’m not constantly moving? I watch people I know rest and think, You’re awfully content for someone with a list of shit to do.
I pride myself on being reliable. If someone calls, I come running. I don’t call out of work. I’m the shoulder to cry on, the errand-runner, the one who answers the phone, the one who makes the time. And while I make that effort for others, I’m routinely reminded:
“No one owes you anything.”
You’re not owed love. You’re not owed respect, time, or consideration. (Someone else’s words — not mine.)
Trying to be The Good Daughter, I bury my head and plow ahead. A pattern forms: maybe if I do enough, someone will finally reward me. And I’m a cheap date — a phone call where you ask how my day was would do. But that call rarely comes lately.
So I stew in my loneliness.
I go to work. I think about after work. And for once, I don’t want to leave work. I’ll go to the gym, or I’ll head straight home to wander in circles and contemplate dinner. 8:00 PM rolls around, I take a shower, and then I’m too tired to cook — so I watch Ozark, or stare at my laptop, waiting to put myself out of my misery (by going to bed).
I’ve built my entire identity on being needed.
So when I’m not needed, I don’t know where I belong.
If I’m not performing for love — who am I?
If love doesn’t have to be earned, why would I ever deserve it?
Sometimes, these realizations show up in my relationships as resentment.
But how can I resent people for using me, when I trained them to?
Technically, we both got something from the exchange — they got my labor, and I got their validation.
Whether it’s a friendship, a parent, or something in-between — eventually, it stops being fair.
I’m subconsciously keeping score.
They think we’re even.
But love — real love — was never supposed to be a ledger.
✶ this is the start of the relaunch. more to come — slowly, honestly.