“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

~Mother Teresa

68/100

I wonder sometimes why the word 'love' is such a loaded word in my life. How is it, a species so designed to love has such a complicated relationship with such a basic need.

I am amazed at how complicated love is. I think about how easily that word comes from me. I love food, I love friends, I love a book... and how difficult it is when someone says to me, "MK, do you love him?" Suddenly? That word changes complete meaning. A word I toss around like candy at an Easter Parade, suddenly seems precious. Almost hoarded. And I think to myself... I don't know, there is so much pressure with that word. And I think when we add the word 'in' to 'love' the whole situation becomes loaded with expectations and pressure that makes just 'loving' someone seem easy.

Recently, I had to contemplate love. I think it is one of those words that has changed meaning as I have grown. What 'love' meant to me at 15 is not the same now. Much like the word home which I talked about before.  I remember about 6 years ago, I dated a guy I called the cowboy. He was 6'7", well over 300 pounds and I was pretty sure the most handsome man I had ever met. After ten minutes? I was smitten. We went on a drive to Deception Pass. I remember kissing him and thinking the world was spinning so crazy! *laughter* Anyhow... a date or two later, he said to me, "MK, I think you care too much about me." I laughed. I said, "Cowboy, I'm probably inlove with you, but *you* don't have to do anything about that! You aren't responsible for how I feel. Just let me love you." But he felt obligated. If *I* felt that way, he felt like *he* needed to feel that way.

Of course admitting to the joy and abandon I was feeling was too much pressure. Eventually, about two months later, the cowboy and I went our separate ways. I was sad, but life goes on. I didn't regret *how* I felt, but I suppose some part of me regretted *telling* him how I felt.

I'm not sure what to do with the word 'love' now. I've realized in my life it isn't so hard to love someone, but sometimes it is really hard to *like* someone. And I find I have become more stingy with the word love. Someone close to me told me the other day that she was the first one in her relationship to use the word 'love'. She said it changed the whole mood of the relationship. They have been dating a few months now and I was surprised they hadn't said it before. But he wasn't sure what to do with that word. And I remember her saying to me, "Dang it MK, I was NOT going to be the first one to say it!" Huh? Why is it that if you feel that you love someone, it is a bad idea to tell them? It's part of this dating game I don't think I get.

I started thinking about how I hoard the word "love" these days. I hand it out pretty freely with my friends, but with guys? Not so much. What *is* that about? Why should I be afraid to say I love someone? Just because I love someone doesn't mean I expect to spend the rest of my life with that person. How is it I have become so unwilling to just 'love' and see where it goes?

I have no answer for these questions. I just know I have been thinking a lot about it. About the weight of the word love, and I wonder if that word deserves so much angst surrounding it.

Because in the end, I wonder if it isn't "love" we are afraid of, but being vulnerable. And somehow the word 'love' seems to open up that door to our hearts. Then? What do we do with that love if circumstances change and we are no longer with the person? One of my dearest friends D and I went our separate ways several years ago. It was a misunderstanding that wasn't able to be healed. For a long time I was so angry. How could he just walk away from such a long friendship? How could he 'toss' me aside? How could he not be willing to talk through it? After all, we loved each other. Why couldn't we make it work? Then, when I realized he really had shut the door, I didn't know what to do with all that love that once belonged to him. It was a big pile of the stuff and I didn't want to throw it away. It sat, mocking me in my living room. I'd see a photo of him or an old email and that big pile of love would torment me.

Then one day, I realized that love wasn't going to go away. It would always be there. Instead of being angry I felt it, I welcomed it back into my heart and made peace with it. It is still attached to him. And someday, I still hope he and I are able, again, to be friends. But for now? There is no need to toss away that love or deny it. I feel the same way about others in my life that I have loved and that are no longer part of my life. Even if the expectations I had for that love have shifted, the love itself is still there. And being angry or bitter about those lost expectations really serves no purpose.

I guess, in the end, I am working in my life to be more present with loving and vulnerability. I don't have the answers to the difference between love and 'inlove', and I still find myself more 'careful' about using the word 'love' in relationships, but the reality is that I am a person that loves. And instead of thinking that is a bad thing, I'd like to shift my perspective a bit. I realize that being a person that loves might mean I get my feelings hurt, but in the end, I'll be better off for having let myself love, than I would if I hoarded my 'love'. Besides, I've watched that tv show 'Hoarders' and if that is what happens when you hoard things? I don't want to know what I'd end up like if I continued down the path of hoarding love like it came in some limited quantity.

I'd probably truly end up that 400pound, single, crazy cat lady with 40 cats and photos of all of them in my wallet. There ain't nothin' healthy about that image.

Peace,

MaryKate