A Crisis Of Love

A few weeks ago, on a Saturday morning I woke up out of a dead sleep with an incredible urgency to tell the people I cared about in my life that I loved them. You might have seen the post on Facebook with the new version of Where Is the Love. I called, emailed and messaged as many of my people as was humanly possible in the span of fifteen minutes. (I had to get to a workshop I was attending).

I thought that once I reached out the urgency would become less intense. In fact, as the day, weekend and week passed, it became stronger by the minute. I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I didn't tell someone at least once a day that I loved them, I was going to miss an opportunity or it was going to be too late.

This continued until this past Wed evening while attending my dance class. The theme of the class was dedicated to heart and vulnerability. As we were laying on our backs in this delicious, low lit red room, the teacher asked us to remember the last time we felt deeply loved and had loved deeply.

Time stopped for a minute as all the feeling of urgency welled up and crashed over me again. I started to remember all the significant relationships I had in my life from my parents onward. My breath slowed as the pain collided with the urgency and I realized as much as I had loved in my life, I had never truly felt loved. (This has dogged me for most of my adult life)

The realization was so stunning I had trouble moving in class. I saw how many times I attempted to create a space to be loved. If I'm brutally honest, I'd say that most of my relationships were predicated on doing something to get some kind of care back, all in the hope 'they' would see I had value and love me.

When I was younger it was pretty apparent that I had to 'work to be loved'. As I matured my compensation became more honed. I actually thought I had let it go when I was diagnosed three years ago. To be honest, I didn't give a shit for about a year and a half. The funny thing I learned about 'working for love' is unless you own the fear of love and how difficult it is to let in, you'll constantly go back to the love well that is empty.

In my case I think it's tied into my loving. When I feel how I love and where it come from in my body, I experience a deep fullness in my heart that's almost overwhelming. At the same time, I'm questioning my impulse to give, is it genuine and open or a symptom that hides my limitation to receive love and all that entails?

Some examples for me include exposing my vulnerability, opening to the other and feeling out of control. Being in the unknown and surrendering to myself and you, while risking the possibility of rejection and humiliation. Am I loving you in a way that continues to protect me from ever exposing how much I want to be loved?

Amazing how revisiting this place doesn't get any less painful, it's actually reminding me of my arrogance in believing I had it handled.

I don't think you ever get over wanting to be loved, even as you curate the ability to love yourself. This is part of our humanity and hopefully we (I) can own it with compassion and the tenderness it deserves.

Facilitating the Art of Intimacy has brought me into a deeper awareness of my blind spots and if you want to explore these ideas further I encourage you to join me in the next round of the program... :-)


big hug,
Lynn