Part of the problem may be that the thing you suspect as a child—that there is not enough love to go around—is true. Attention is finite. The scramble is forever. The secretly suspected truth that you are not equally admired or adored or attractive, that there will be insoluble inequities, that one will have a more interesting career, and one will be happier in love, and one will have better adventures, and one will be more creative, and one will be more charming, and one will have more shoes is all true. The myth parents foist, with good intentions, on children—that the resources and embrace of the world will be equal—will not be borne out by life. You knew it when you were 4. The yellow lollipop is not the same as the red one.