Love.
If you’ve been through a harrowing relationship ending, then that word will no doubt feel fully loaded. Perhaps triggering.
(I hate the word triggering… We are humans. We feel. Certain things, and words, make us feel more feelings than others…)
But yeah. If you fell in love – deep, dreamy, we-were-destined-to-be-together love – then experiencing that love end, or worse, that love turn into something that felt dangerous, then you’ll probably not feel too comfortable with ‘love’ and all she appears to promise.
My own story is too long to go into here – but I will, at some point. It’s also always very difficult to be sure of the ethics of what to share – what if my children read it? Can I be sure my motives for writing it aren’t in some way to seek revenge on my ex, rather than share something useful?
But in terms of love – staying in love with love is work. It’s work to trust it. To want it. To want to give it.
It’s work not to get angry, or at least frustrated, that something that should flow naturally and easily and beautifully is now hard work.
But a good life is not a life of quick wins and shortcuts. A good life is a life of depth, experience, lessons, surprises, pivots, slow reveals, and periods of dark, quiet pauses when nothing is happening and you feel stuck, and yet somehow you know something is taking root.
Ultimately, our relationship with love begins with our relationship with ourselves. That is not to say you must adore yourself, believing yourself flawless and praiseworthy.
But to love yourself in the way that you might take care of a pet or small child – give it what it needs to feel secure, settled, and cared for. Not too fussy, not too harsh, not pandering to its every desire, just steady, constant, checking in.
What do you need?
We so rarely ask ourselves that question and then truly listen. We ask and then quickly offer solutions or distractions.
Love is being able to listen, without agenda, and respond, with kindness.
Love is slow, spacious, and open.
Love sometimes shows itself to us quietly, in the darkest moments, and whispers: “Hey… I’m in here. Always.”
Healing from a relationship ending is a process of slowly letting a storm pass.
The raging winds, the destruction, the fear, the normal becoming unfamiliar and threatening.
In time, it settles.
A quietness returns.
Things do not look the same.
But at last, it’s quiet enough for you to be still and listen.
And if you are able to be still and quiet enough, you will be able to hear the depth of your being whispering, confidently, that you are, and always will be, OK.
That’s love.
You can learn about the one-to-one support I offer people going through relationship endings on my Separation support page
