What Life Has Taught Me About Love

Nine-year-old me is sitting in the living room, toes curled on a fluffy cream mat, watching Princess Tiana being squeezed tightly by her mother and gently smooched by her father while she makes a wish on a star. I feel nothing but empty.

Why was this kind of familial love not something I received in real life? I was taught that love was “I cook, clean, and house you,” but my soul longed for something deeper. Deep love started feeling dangerous because it was an unknown territory, and as a result I became emotionally distant with people. You want to party, I am down. You want vulnerability, I’m looking for an exit.

Love kissed and hugged Tiana, but it pushed me to the ground and made me get up on my own.

Suddenly I’m a teenager and everyone gets caught up in the disease of this “love” thing. It’s the summer of year nine, the sun is blazing and cold, sweet ice cream is melting on our tongues as my friends and I share it in the playground. Then one of them breaks the news: “I have a boyfriend now. I think you should get one too.”

From then on, I was on a mission. No more Disney movies about love. I want my own prince charming.

Next thing I know I’m getting a buzz of attention from different guys on dating apps. They say all the things Disney princes say, but I still feel empty. I thought this validation would make me feel better, but it made me feel worse.

I realise it’s not attention that I crave. I’m craving safety and escape when life gets hard.

It is year nine again, and the cold December breeze marks its territory. I stare at the dark sky with a friend who asked to hang out with me after maths class. The crispy leaves in the park gently cover us as we stare into the bliss.

“You know, my favourite thing about you is your genuine curious approach to life,” she says as she looks at me. Suddenly all the compliments and attention from the dating apps drown out in my mind as her words make a home in my head.

I feel something those compliments never gave me. I feel seen for the first time.

Over time we start hanging out more and I get closer to her friends. I felt filled with a love I never experienced romantically, a love that picks you up when you fall and asks you if you need more help. They taught me trust and they show up consistently.

Those cliché friendship shows we watched as kids really did have a point. Friendship is magic when you find the right people.

I thought I had friendships figured out. One second, I am hanging out and laughing with my friend for life every day at university, the next I am staring at my empty room on move out day, reading the text, “I am done with this friendship. You are more inconsiderate than you realise.”

The world pauses, and I realise my childhood avoidance has crept back into my friendships. I downplayed my emotional presence in her life and because of that I showed up less and less. You could say I was gone before she was.

After this, I reach out to people who know me so they can call me out on the behaviours I had been sweeping under the rug. It hurts, but I learn that consideration is the highest form of love as she always said. I never really understood until she left. Accidental love is fun, but intentional love is what maintains relationships. I am actively learning how to do that.

Love has pushed me to the ground, picked me up, run away from my desperation and made me accountable. I may not know who I will love next, but I’m still a hopeful romantic. I am learning how to love, and honestly that is enough for now.