Are we thinking of the same word?
Love.
We all seem to think that love is love. Simple.
No it’s not.
Love means something different to everyone.
I doubt that there are 2 people who would explain their perception of love in exactly the same way.
The reason for this, I now believe, is that we define what love is as a child. As we do many things, but love especially.
This is because I don’t think that we are born with any other desire than to be loved.
We are not born with jealousy, hate, envy or monetary desires. We are born with the one need to feel close to someone. We need attention and affection.
Don’t you agree?
Think about it.
Yes, I thought so too!
Now not every child is subjected to the same environment. In fact some are born into a nightmare.
The majority of mankind just think that having loving parents and a cosy atmosphere is normal. It’s not. Not for many, not for more than we actually realise.
Therefore the empath in me believes that I can be understanding to what others perceive love to be.
The ‘me‘ in me however has my own definition.
The thing is, our definition of love does not align with what we’re shown because that’s not the love we know therefore it doesn’t make sense.
Reality is, we don’t learn from what our parents or guardians tell us. We learn from what they show us.
If I think about it, I learned what love is from my father, by watching him and absorbing his actions. How lucky was I!
I mean so many don’t have that kind of opportunity. I did! I’m blessed.
My dad loved unconditionally. Now many will say that about their parents but in the case of my father, that’s true.
My dad gave up his childhood and any chance he had at education to help his family. He knew he would be behind them all, he wanted to study but he worked instead. He knew he was giving away his opportunity at life but he didn’t care. He never spoke of it in a bad way nor had any resentment. THAT’S LOVE.
My dad worked hard. Harder than most due to his lack of education, some work smart. He had to work hard. He married, had a family and his one aim in life was to provide for them. Not just to give them basic necessities but to give them the comfort he never knew. THAT’S LOVE.
My dad trusted, probably because as humans we tend to judge others as we are ourselves, so therefore he must have assumed that others wanted to help him. He was wrong. He failed and was cheated yet, I never knew him to hate as a result of that. He still loved. THAT’S LOVE.
My dad was losing it all; business, health yet he fought on. He fought on for others, not only for his immediate family but he continued to help and support extended family. Some would describe such members as strangers even today but not my dad. He helped. Even if they were a stranger, if he could help, he would. THAT’S LOVE.
My dad died. He died from stress, from anxiety and worry. He died loving.
If anyone can come back at me right now and tell me that’s not love then please do. Enlighten me because in my head, that’s not just love. THAT’S UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.
The kind of love everyone deserves but rarely gets.
The kind of love that’s too rare people don’t even recognise it.
Nowadays people don’t love, they use. As long as they get something out of it, they’ll tolerate and say it’s love.
That’s not love. These people have never experienced true love and therefore don’t even know what it is so how can we expect it from them?
Suddenly I feel like I can understand why all these decades I never fit in.
To be honest, I don’t want to. I don’t understand love as it stands today because I learnt a rare form of it that doesn’t exist today.
I spent all these years believing I was crazy, I’m not. I’m just me.
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