At what point does wanting to be loved turn into volunteering to be hurt?
It is an uncomfortable question because sacrifice is something we are taught to admire. We grow up hearing about people such as Bhagat Singh, whose devotion to a cause was larger than their own lives. We learn to associate giving something up with having something worth giving it up for.
Then we bring that idea into the ordinary mess of belonging. We want friends. We want to be wanted. And sometimes we begin treating our own unhappiness as proof that we deserve a place.
Playing the necessary villain
Hachiman Hikigaya, from My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU, is the character I think of. When a social situation breaks down, he can make himself the problem. Take the blame. Play the villain. Give everyone else a way to get along.
From a distance, that can look admirable. He absorbs the damage and the group survives. But the pattern raises a harder question: why is he always the person whose feelings can be spent?
I read that kind of everyday martyrdom as a bargain with self-worth. If simply being yourself feels insufficient, being indispensable can look like an alternative. You become useful through what you are willing to endure.
You should be allowed to stay in the room without paying for your place in it.
The price of belonging
The bargain can become self-reinforcing. The more you sacrifice, the more you hope someone will notice. If they do, the role feels necessary. If they do not, you may decide you have not given enough.
I find that possibility more unsettling than obvious selfishness. You can be asking for affection while convincing yourself you are asking for nothing at all.
There is courage in caring for other people. There is also courage in letting your own needs count. You should be allowed to stay in the room without paying for your place in it.