I like this essay by Whitney Cummings' over at Lenny Letter quite a lot:

I had always had a hunch something was wrong because I could give but I couldn't receive. I could give someone nice jewelry, but when they tried to buy me a two-dollar coffee I would resist to the point of it getting awkward. And if someone gave me a gift, I viewed it like a grenade. I would have to wait until you left to open it because I was so worried I wouldn't receive it well enough. My dear friend Beth gave me necklaces with my dogs' initials on them, and I stressed out that she didn't know how much I love them. I'll Instagram them looking resplendent under the Nashville filter and tag her, send her photos of me wearing them so she didn't think I was lying, and yet I still felt a pang of guilt that I didn't deserve such kindness.

You can read the whole thing here.