Learning Self-Love — and Finding Readers Without Losing Yourself

by Chilen Moya for the South Florida Writers Association

A personal reflection with lessons learned, shared for fellow writers.

Children are excellent translators of silence.

As a newly published author, I quickly learned that sharing a book with the world is not just about marketing—it’s about resilience, community, and learning how to stay grounded while navigating unfamiliar spaces. What follows is both a personal reflection and a few lessons gathered along the way, shared in the hope that they may be useful to other writers walking a similar path.

I grew up knowing I was unwanted — not because anyone ever said the words out loud, but because no one stayed long enough to need to.

I was left behind as a child in the Dominican Republic, passed quietly between relatives while my mother moved on with her life. When we were eventually reunited years later, the reunion did not bring the warmth or safety I had imagined. My mother was present in body but distant in every other way. Love, I learned early, could exist in theory without showing up in practice.

Children are excellent translators of silence. I learned that love was conditional, temporary, and earned through usefulness. I learned that asking for too much — affection, reassurance, attention — was risky. And I learned that abandonment was something to expect rather than something to question.

For a long time, I believed I had outgrown all of this. I built a career, traveled, became self-sufficient. From the outside, I looked steady. Inside, the patterns resurfaced quietly — especially in relationships, where I confused intensity for intimacy and endurance for love.

It took years to recognize that I wasn’t unlucky; I was repeating a familiar blueprint.

I grew up knowing I was unwanted.

As I worked through this personally, I was also learning something parallel as an author: meaningful connection doesn’t come from forcing outcomes.

Lesson learned: Direct, human engagement matters more than scale.

Conversations with readers—without expectation—often lead to genuine interest and opportunities that no formal pitch can replicate.

Lesson learned: Community spaces often provide more openness than traditional commercial

venues.

Independent bookstores, libraries, academic fairs, and informal literary gatherings offer access, dialogue, and visibility without pressure.

Lesson learned: Learning where not to invest emotional energy matters.

Not every confirmed opportunity comes to fruition, and discernment is as important as persistence.

What I would do again is simple: start small, prioritize human connection, and allow the work to travel through relationships rather than expectations.

Being an unwanted child shaped me, but it does not define me. Writing this book—and learning how to share it—reinforced my commitment to stay present in my own life, trust my voice, and choose spaces that allow me to remain whole.

If this reflection offers anything, I hope it’s reassurance: there is no single path — only thoughtful ones. We’re all figuring it out as we go.

To connect with Chilen Moya:

Instagram: @chiquitamoya

Purchase her memoir now!