Why did I keep getting gifts instead of love?

Wrapped in gifts, starved of love: A journey through emotional neglect

Growing up in a materially comfortable but emotionally desolate household, Elsa navigates her life burdened by gifts but starved of connection. Her journey of self-discovery, supported by honest conversations, reveals the depth of damage caused by emotional neglect. With romanticism and raw vulnerability, she explores the consequences of a hollow upbringing.

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"Where do you see yourself in five years?" That dreaded interview question. At 28, I found myself staring at the HR manager, genuinely stumped. Where did I see myself? I didn't know where I was now, let alone in five years. When you grow up being showered with stuff — toys, gadgets, and pretty much everything money can buy — but deprived of emotional connection, your inner GPS goes haywire.

My name is Elsa, by the way. Named after the Disney character by my mother, who fancied herself a modern-day queen, always too busy managing the 'kingdom' to ask how her child was doing. I grew up in a house that could've been mistaken for a showroom. But no amount of luxury compensates for the gut-wrenching emptiness of never hearing, "How are you feeling?"

Who needs hugs when you can have a designer bag?

If you think about it, emotional neglect is like having a box inside you that never quite gets opened. Over time, it gets dusty, forgotten in the corner of your soul. You know it’s there, but you are not sure you want to peek inside. Who knows what’s been left rotting in there?

But here's the catch. Beneath all that glitter, there wasn't a single real conversation. When I told Mum I felt "weird," she handed me an iPhone. When I had my first breakup, Dad took me shopping instead of asking why I was sobbing into my pillow for a week. I was always surrounded by stuff, but never by people who really wanted to know me.

How did I end up here?

I always thought that growing up in a house full of toys, gadgets, and clothes meant I had a happy childhood. It wasn’t until I turned 35, during yet another self-imposed therapy session disguised as a walk, that I realized something was off. You see, the shelves of my childhood were full, but my heart—well, not so much. I grew up in a home where “I love you” was replaced with “Here, have a new iPhone.”

I had everything, except for the one thing that mattered: connection. Sure, my siblings gave me the latest gadgets, and Mum bought me that glittery pink bike when I was six. But nobody asked me how I felt about… anything. Not when I was crying over losing my goldfish, or when I didn’t get picked for the school play. There was silence—emotional tumbleweed.

“Elsa, you’re lucky,” they said. “Some kids don’t even have this.” So, I learned to smile. You know, that polite smile where your face hurts from pretending you’re fine, but your soul just wants to scream into the abyss?

If you’d met me back then, you would have probably thought I was spoiled. But let me tell you, I was emotionally famished.

It's the classic case of emotional neglect, like The Crumpled Innocence by Tushar Mangl explains. You don't really see it happening, but the damage settles in slowly. It’s like being emotionally starved, but everyone around you thinks you’re fine because you’ve got the ‘latest thing.’ And let's be real — stuff doesn't fix what’s missing inside.

“It’s easier to see a broken arm than a broken heart.” Yes, that’s it! My family saw me, but not really. They saw the boxes ticked off—food, clothing, shelter—but they missed the messy bits, the raw human parts.

Is it really love when it comes in a box?

Gifts, like the ones I received, are meant to be tokens of love, right? Well, I suppose that’s the story we tell ourselves. That a diamond necklace, a new phone, or a weekend trip is somehow equal to asking, “How was your day, Elsa?” It’s funny how we try to fill emotional voids with things that fit in wrapping paper.

When I was a kid, I often found myself surrounded by shiny new toys, but after the initial excitement wore off, I’d sit there in my room, staring out the window. My older brother, Jacky, showered me with gifts, from the latest gaming consoles to jewellery. But not once did he ask me how I was doing at school, or whether I was happy.

“Elsa, you’ve got it good,” he’d say, handing me the keys to a car when I turned 19. And on some level, I believed him. But there’s only so much a car can do when you’re broken down inside. Emotional neglect is tricky—it’s like a slow poison. You can’t see it right away, but over time, it seeps into every part of your life. And just when you think you’ve outrun it, it hits you where it hurts.

For me, it was relationships. That’s where my emotional lack of self-worth reared its ugly head. You know that moment in your late 20s when you suddenly realise you are not great at this whole “being loved” thing? That was me, fumbling my way through a series of relationships, unable to believe I was worth anything beyond the occasional text or half-hearted date.

Do we ever learn how to connect?

My epiphany about emotional neglect didn’t come in a neatly wrapped package (unlike my childhood gifts). It crept up on me through awkward conversations with friends, failed romantic relationships, and quiet moments when I’d be lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Have you ever tried to have a meaningful conversation when you’ve never learned how? It’s like trying to drive a car with no engine—you can sit in it, but you are not going anywhere.

Take the time when my friend Hannah, a warm-hearted, too-in-touch-with-her-feelings type, asked, “Elsa, how are you really doing?”

I froze. My brain panicked like a deer caught in headlights. What does that even mean? How am I “really” doing? I gave the usual, “Oh, I’m fine,” followed by that robotic smile I have perfected over the years.

But Hannah wasn’t buying it. “You don’t have to be fine all the time,” she said, her eyes softening in a way that made me feel both comforted and extremely uncomfortable. She hugged me—like, properly hugged me—and I just stood there, arms limp by my sides, like a mannequin who hadn’t read the script on how to respond to affection.

I realized I had no idea how to be vulnerable. I didn't know how to open up to people, or how to ask for emotional support without feeling like I was imposing. After all, when you're given material things instead of emotional warmth your whole life, you start thinking that's the only kind of love you're worth.

Also Read: Do we ever really listen?

 

What is the cost of emotional disconnection?

As time went on, I began to realise how much my inability to connect had cost me. According to a 2020 study published in The American Journal of Psychology, adults who experience emotional neglect as children are 50% more likely to struggle with self-worth issues in their relationships.

I was basically living that statistic.

Jacky, the king of "here, have some stuff," was a textbook example of the emotionally detached sibling. He meant well—he truly did. But I’d have traded every single gift for one real conversation. Just one moment where he sat down, looked me in the eye, and asked, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

When I finally confronted him one day, years after we’d both moved out of  Dad's house, it went something like this:

“Jacky, do you ever wonder why we don’t talk?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? We talk.” (We actually don't. He rarely asks how am I doing or how is my work. But is always prompt with my birthday gift/surprise. Does it even make sense?Once he bought me a fairly expensive pair of shoes from a trip abroad. Size 9. I wear size 6. Seriously, he could have just picked up the phone and asked. Or just talked to his sister.)

“No, I mean talk talk. Like, why have we never had a real conversation?”

He shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?”

I was stunned by the blankness in his eyes. He genuinely didn’t understand. The emotional neglect wasn’t malicious—it was learned. Passed down like an heirloom from generation to generation.

Also Read: What happened in your childhood wasn't your fault – you can heal and rewrite your story

Am I worthy of love?

If you have ever had emotional neglect seeping through your childhood, the question “Am I worthy of love?” can haunt you well into adulthood. You start second-guessing your relationships, thinking every text that doesn’t get a quick reply means you’ve somehow failed. You are constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop because you’re convinced that love, for you, is conditional.

My first real relationship was with a girl named Apeksha. She was kind, thoughtful, and gave me the emotional attention I didn’t know how to receive. And that’s where it went wrong. I kept pushing her away, unsure of how to let someone into the mess that was my emotional landscape.

“You deserve better than me,” I told her one night after a particularly intense argument. 

“Why do you keep saying that?” She asked, exasperated.

Because, I thought to myself, I don’t know how to be loved. I’d spent so many years convincing myself that gifts were the only way to show affection that when real love—messy, imperfect, and unconditional—came along, I had no idea what to do with it.

Also Read: Cutting people off isn’t strength—It is a trauma response

How do you learn to feel again?

Rewiring yourself emotionally is like learning a new language. It is awkward, and you are bound to make mistakes. There were so many times I wanted to slip back into the old patterns — buying myself something nice when I felt down instead of reaching out to a friend.

But I started small. Therapy helped. I read Mangl’s books, underlining passages that felt painfully accurate. I allowed myself to admit when I was lonely. I opened up to people, which was terrifying at first. But slowly, I realized that emotional connection wasn't this unattainable thing. It was just... human.

One day, I visited my parents and instead of the usual shallow conversation, I asked them about their childhoods. I asked what made them happy, what their dreams were. For the first time, I saw a flicker of something real in their eyes — vulnerability, maybe? It was as though we were all learning how to connect in ways we had never been taught.

Is there a way out of this mess?

It’s one thing to recognise you’ve been emotionally neglected. It’s another thing entirely to figure out what to do about it. Can you really rewire your brain after years of emotional malnutrition?

The short answer is: Yes, but it’s hard work. And it starts with having some brutally honest conversations—first with yourself, and then with the people around you. It means accepting that your family did the best they could with what they had, but that doesn’t mean you have to carry their emotional baggage any longer.

I remember reading The Crumpled Innocence again, this time with a notebook in hand. One line stood out to me: “You can’t change the past, but you can change the way you move forward.” Simple, but profound.

So, that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I am learning to open up—one awkward conversation at a time. I’ve started therapy (which is like emotionally decluttering, only without the risk of stepping on LEGO pieces). And I’ve slowly begun to trust that I am, in fact, worthy of love.

Can we ever truly heal?

Healing isn’t a straight line—it  is a wobbly, messy, sometimes infuriating process. Some days, I still struggle to accept affection without feeling like I owe something in return. But little by little, I’m getting better at it. I’m learning that love isn’t a transaction, and it certainly doesn’t come wrapped in a bow.

Jacky and I talk rarely now—real conversations or not, the gap has widened.Time,and more uncomfortable moments, but we are getting nowhere.Perhaps he is learning too, in his own way. Turns out, emotional connection doesn’t come with a manual.

My journey isn’t over. But as I continue to open that dusty box of emotions inside me, I’m starting to realise that the greatest gift you can give someone isn’t something you can buy—it’s showing up, asking how they are, and truly listening to the answer.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. What is emotional neglect?
Emotional neglect occurs when a child's emotional needs aren't met, even if their physical needs are fulfilled. This can lead to long-term psychological effects.

2. How can I tell if I’ve experienced emotional neglect?
Signs include difficulty forming relationships, low self-worth, and trouble expressing or understanding emotions.

3. Can emotional neglect be healed?
Yes, but it requires self-awareness, therapy, and often, re-learning how to connect with others.

4. How do material gifts replace emotional connection?
Material gifts may feel like affection, but they can't substitute emotional intimacy, which is built through communication and vulnerability.

5. How can I open up emotionally?
Start by being honest with yourself about your feelings, and practice sharing these with trusted individuals, like friends or a therapist.

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Bio of Tushar Mangl:

Tushar Mangl is a counsellor and author of The Avenging Act. He writes on personal finance, mental health, Vastu, and the art of balanced living. Passionate about building a greener, better society, Tushar is also the author of Hey Honey Bunch and I Will Do It.