I used to have a story about what the people I loved owed me. It reduced love to an exchange of this for that; I’ll be a good girl if you give me the nurturing or attention I crave, I’ll be sweet to you if you do what I want. It was innocent and I was innocent in it, but it caused me a lot of distress.
I was often deeply triggered by feelings of desire and the prospect of feeling disappointed was terrifying to me. I couldn’t cope with the complicated web of meaning attached to my idea of love.
It wasn’t until I reached the end of my rope that I looked deep inside myself and found the thing that would allow me to transform my attitude towards love – my spirit.
To find a deeper form of love, an unconditional style of loving, a transcendent and transformative type of love, I had to die to my old way of being. I had to hold a metaphorical pillow over the face of my old dysfunctional self and let her pass away into the night. And this was not a one-time thing, it is an ONGOING thing. I die over and over again to the things that don’t resonate with this increasingly familiar soul part of me.
It involves swallowing pride, soothing the insecurity that gets triggered sometimes, questioning the old conditioning, sitting in the discomfort and pressing ahead.
It means loving unconditionally.
It means loving people who I haven’t seen for years, it means loving those who have “wronged” me, it means loving the fucked up humans in this world because anything less sits at odds with my true nature. It means being brave and choosing love over fear time and time again.
It means loving every facet of myself and shining light into all the shadows.
Loving unconditionally doesn’t mean I let everyone in or indulge other’s bullshit, boundaries are undoubtedly a form of love, but love has to be a constant because that’s what it demands.
My soul calls for the very best from me and so I keep pushing forward and keep dying to all that doesn’t serve.
Photo by Maegan Brown