What Is Love?

Love Yourself

Yes, I've already written a blog post to lament the question ‘what is love?' However, that particular evaluative piece acts as a textual deconstruction, focussing on the conveyance of the emotion through song, not life experience. Of late, this same question has played on my mind quite a lot - not because I am searching for the answer, but rather, because now I think I know.

Love is when you spend every waking moment with your partner, and never tire of them.

Love is identifying your partner's flaws, and accepting them as part of the complete package.

Love is when you can (and forgive me for the cliche 'rom com' scene) stare into one another's eyes endlessly and never feel the need to look away; in these moments, time stands still.

Love is when your partner makes your "heart beat faster and slower at the same time" (The Hot Chick, 2002), and you know it’s not an arrhythmia.

Love is when "parting is such sweet sorrow" (Romeo and Juliet). Your heart aches to see them sitting at the bus stop blowing you kisses and waving solemnly as the bus pulls away. You can’t bear it and you both find yourselves texting immediately to say you can't wait to see them again the following weekend.

Love is unconsciously quoting classic poetry and prose whenever your partner is on your mind.

Love is talking about the future but living in the now.

Love is following up on something your partner said a week ago, because what's important to them is important to you.

Love is about equal sharing: thoughts, opinions, compliments, domestic chores.

Love is asking them for a first kiss at the end of your third date instead of expecting it.

Love is willingly working at a relationship, but simultaneously taking each day as it comes - with ease.

Love is failing to notice that you've spent seven solid hours walking hand-in-hand, because it’s just so natural.

Love is sharing so many private jokes that you only ever seem to remember those from seven days ago or less.

Love is accepting that your partner may have a conflicting opinion on a topic, and not only respect their perspective, but empathise with it before they disagree.

Love is not only meeting your partner's family early on in the relationship, but wanting to be a part of it, too.

Love is the mutual knowledge that you will be together forever - and not being afraid to say it out loud.

Love is spending four hours reading and responding to your partner's emails each night when you are oceans apart (and looking forward to it), because it's how you stay connected.

Love is knowing you can make a fool of yourself in private, and your partner will love you even more.

Love is nurturing your partner when they are sick, fetching cups of Lemsip and tucking them into bed to sleep during the day.

Love is when your partner tells you every day how much you mean to them, how lucky they feel to have met you, and squeezing you to make sure you are real.

Love is when you can go about your career with a sense of confidence and independence because your partner boosts your esteem daily, telling you how competent and amazing you are, especially in those moments of self-doubt.

Love is complete clarity. It's not an obsession and it doesn't threaten to consume you because when in (mutual) love, there are no doubts.

Love is not singular: it is not just physical attraction, nor is it simply a companionship. Love is the inability to imagine a life without the person you want to fall asleep next to every night; the person who you know will be the perfect mother or father to your children; the one you are best friends with; and the only person you are and ever will be physically attracted to.

Love is letting your partner fall asleep on your chest, and switching Netflix programs to something they would find relaxing, even if you’re not interested in it yourself.

Love is knowing you can be yourself completely, and never doubt that you are loved in return.

Love is reading this blog in three months time, and realising how foolish it was to think I could ever define what love is, because love is infinite and ever growing.

I certainly am lucky to be in love.

Postscript: It’s ironic that only days after drafting this blog post, my blissfully happy and fulfilling relationship came to a grinding stop. The following realisation in the wake of a series of sudden and unexpected events - however crushing - is what prompted me to write this postscript.

Although romantic love may only be temporary in certain situations, love itself (regardless of the people involved) is everlasting and resonates in all of us, even in the most heartbreaking of situations. It may reside in the passion you have for your career, the potential you see in your students and the hope you draw from that, or in the safety and comfort your family provides.

What love is is unyielding - even when it seems like it's no longer in existence. What may perceivably ‘break a heart’ does not necessarily eradicate the feeling completely. That ache in your chest, the emptiness in the pit of your stomach, the numb feeling taking over your body - that is love taking a battering, and fighting back with force.

Even in the broken hearted, love is what keeps us going; a friend’s thoughtful and reassuring text, a kind letter of thanks from a student, or a parent’s warm and reliable shoulder to cry on are perfect examples of this – and as I recover from my own situation, I take strength from all three.

I've noticed that during emotional crises, we as humans don’t give ourselves enough credit. More often than not, it is the love we have for ourselves that sees us soldiering on against all odds: ice-cream and movie nights, days of solitary introspection, and allowing ourselves to cry aren't marks of weakness, but shows of strength. It is such strength, this love of self, that gets us through painful situations, even if at that time we childishly believe that all love is lost.

In hindsight, love isn't something that can be taken away or diminished entirely. Love is within us and is the flame that keeps the fire - us - going, always.

Written by Belinda Pearce
26/3/16

Dear Albertine...

A Letter To My Future Child

In August 2015, I had an intense and vivid dream. It wasn’t the type of dream you’d brush off as random or obscure in its sensibility, nor was it flippant in its content. Rather, it was the evocative kind that welcomed emotions unhindered by social constructs. It was thought provoking. It was a dream where everything and everyone was real, and I was part of something amazing; this dream depicted a convincing reality.

**

I’m holding a baby – a girl to be precise. She is beautiful. Her skin is smooth, flawless. Her cheeks are plump; the healthy hue reminiscent of a fresh peach. Her eyes are a sharp blue, and her hair golden. I’m holding this baby girl in my arms, wrapped cosily in an eggshell-white cotton blanket with pale blue and yellow stripes. As if the vision before me were a video tape stuck between fast-forward and rewind, the child flickers between two ages: the newborn sleepily cradled in my arms, and that of a toddler, her telling hair now flowing in gentle uncut locks that bounce just past her ear lobes as she waddles by, arms outstretched.

My family sit around me in awe, comforting and peaceful smiles on their faces. My smile, however, is beaming. As if under a spell, I continue to look lovingly into my daughter’s eyes, unable to look away as she lay contentedly in my arms. Everything around her is blurred now, making her the salient figure of my life from here on. I hold her closer, my nose nearly touching hers as I say with full conviction “You’ll be such an intelligent woman!” I am proud of my girl beyond belief – it’s as if her eyes hold the answers to the universe, like tiny crystal balls revealing her future…

**

Upon waking, I felt strangely conflicted. Initially I was elated to have so vividly interacted with my first-born years before her conception. However, another part of me felt frustrated, distanced and deeply, deeply sad. I’d been unfairly separated from my sweet baby girl; the girl I’d held only for moments once upon a dream, yet now shared an unfathomable maternal bond with.

In the weeks to follow, I continued to think about my dream. Many nights I’d fall asleep praying to God that I’d dream of her again. I missed her terribly, and during stolen introspective moments in chaotic work environments, I wished so strongly to be reunited with her. It was then that I understood every working-mother’s dilemma come the end of their maternity leave. I finally understood the love a mother feels for her child, and as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, realised my own mother’s unconditional and selfless love for me.

I continued to think of my golden-haired girl, and sub-consciously, I began making decisions based on how they would impact her. The choices ranged from life-changing (e.g. international migration, career stability) to personal (who I associated with, how I behaved in social situations). My life motto ‘honest and imperfect’ prompted me to think about which stories of experience I would share with my daughter, which would remain private, and how I would assist her to make sound decisions without sounding ‘too preachy’. I contemplated how I would enable her to become the person she aspired to be. I also wondered how she would perceive me as I neared my forties or fifties, and she grew to be a teenager with her own opinions. I wondered if she would question my reasoning or ever doubt my decisions. I knew she would respect me, but I wanted to consider if there was any reason she would not.

It was in considering how I would provide my child with a hopeful future, and how I would preserve our mother-daughter relationship that inspired me to write this piece. The following is an open letter to my dear (future) daughter, Albertine.

~

Dear Albertine,

Do you know why I named you as such? When I was twenty-eight (well before you were born), I had a dream. I dreamt I was holding you in my arms and although you were no more than a few weeks old, I wholeheartedly believed you would grow up to be an incredibly smart, confident and well-respected young woman. I had full conviction.

Connoting royalty, nobility and intelligence, your name’s origin can be linked to a number of European countries: Spain, France and Germany included. While Albertine was different – ‘old-timey’ and beautiful - I also considered naming you for the vibrant golden hair you possessed in my dream. However, ‘gold’ in Spanish translates to ‘Oro’, and the three letters / two syllables just weren’t expressive enough for my little girl.

Before you were conceived, before you were even a psychological conception, I made a promise to you. I promised never to do anything to shame or disappoint you. As I write this in my late twenties, I can assure you I have never been so drunk that I’ve failed to recollect the events of the night before, I’ve had no one-night stands, and I’ve avoided illicit drugs though they were always available to me. I would be so ashamed if ever you discovered something sordid from my past that I’d thought was lost and buried. Luckily, there are no such secrets that exist, nor any I would keep from you. I promise to always act as a role model to you in every possible way - you have my word.

I’ll always be honest with you, even if it means telling you about my failed relationships and how I learnt from them. I’ll overcome past hurts and promise never to hold grudges against the people who did me wrong; however, for your benefit I will never let myself forget what rejection, disappointment or heartbreak feels like. So that you grow to be a well-rounded adult, building your capacity to empathise is very important to me. I’ll be empathetic with you, always.

I’ll share with you my experiences, endeavoring to leave few stones unturned. I hope you can learn from my mistakes. I really do… but I know it is essential you learn from your own.

When you tell me about your latest boyfriend or crush and seek my advice, I may not always tell you what you want to hear. Rather, I will share with you my honest opinion; however, I promise to tread carefully when I believe your heart is at risk of being broken.

I want you to know that it is not ok to be ignored, or to be treated as second best. It’s not ok for people to make you feel like you are any less than the beautiful, intelligent, caring, loving and wholesome girl you are. I know the feeling of dismissal all too well, and at twenty-eight, I continue to be surprised by the presence of utter dejection in my own personal life, whether it be because a worthy man of interest has, without warning or explanation, decided to cut all contact, or a close friend has gone AWOL for weeks on end, forgetting important milestones in my life. When this happens to you (and unfortunately it will), keep in mind that their behaviour is their prerogative and this is their issue to contend with. Over the years, I’ve come to accept that the universe has a way of indicating whether someone should be in our lives or not, and a sudden despondence on their part is often its uncomfortable warning. Such people will make you question your self-worth, Albertine, but listen to me when I say it is their loss. Remember this, I implore you.

I want you to know that ‘you are the company you keep’, and as such, I will never allow people into my life that may be of detriment to you - that would suggest a lack of dignity, and as you know sweetie, your mother is a very honorable person. I will never give you any reason to call me a hypocrite when I tell you I don’t like that friend of yours who treats you poorly, or that boy who is giving you the run around. Over time you will come to learn that my actions and feelings towards people are always justified, so if I don’t accept second best, neither should you.

You know that I am writing this letter well before your birth, so I have not yet met your father; or maybe I have, and I just don’t know it. But let me tell you this: your father is a good man. He loves you with all his heart. You are his world, even more so than me – and that is perfectly ok. He is kind and empathetic; he loves to listen to your stories and make his little girl feel special. Like me, he teaches you the ways of the world – whether it be of a social, political, cultural or historical nature, you name it, he’s discussed it with you at some point. He doesn’t lecture or dismiss your interesting yet underdeveloped ideas when you feel brave enough to share them with him. He is proud of you to no end, as am I.

I want you to be inquisitive and develop your own way of thinking. As parents, it is our responsibility to feed your desire to question, learn and discover the world around you. I will remind you daily of how smart you are, noting the many little things you say or do that lead me to believe you are an old soul. I will instill in you a sense of confidence that you can be anything you want to be; accomplish anything you desire to achieve. I have full faith in you, Albertine, like your grandparents continue to have in me.

You’ll learn from me that independence is everything, but not everyone practises it. You will exude this quality in everything you do and every decision you make. You will be at peace with yourself and never rely upon the company of others to maintain a sense of happiness. Your heart will remain guarded, hopefully having listened to my stories and learned from my mistakes. That said, you’ll follow your instinct and allow the right people into your heart, and when you do, you will love them with every fibre of your being. Hopefully you will never fall victim to society’s unruly expectations or a man’s manipulation, both of which are designed to destroy purity and sound self-perception. You’re too wise for that.

At times, you may feel pressured to follow society’s rigid path: find a man, marry, invest in the property market, have children and live happily ever after; this is an ideal that stands to erase the fact that life is non-linear. If you are single like I’ve been for most of my twenties, people may ask you “why are you still single? Aren’t you lonely?” Ignorant questions like this are more telling of their personality than of yours.

There’s a difference between loneliness and being alone. You may prefer at times to be alone – this is common and healthy. I choose this option more often than not. To be lonely, however, is entirely different. To be alone is a choice: quiet introspection is essential to your wellbeing - remember that. To be lonely is to rely upon the company of others because you are unsatisfied with your own; this is a dangerous emotion and one I hope you never succumb to. I want to give you every chance to achieve success in your life so that you never feel disappointed within yourself, and depend upon others as your main source of happiness. If you are at peace with who you are, loneliness has little chance at destroying your wonderful, charismatic demeanour.

Albertine, there is so much more I could tell you; so much more you need to know. I could write a novel to guide you through your adolescent years and tumultuous twenties, providing you with emotional support and useful tips– but unfortunately, you will have to experience the highs and lows for yourself. If in fact you do read this letter one day, you will likely tell me my efforts were unnecessary, because I’ve proven my integrity to you every day since the moment you were born.

I want this letter to remind you of your worth not only to me, but also to the world around you. You are important, Albertine: I know this to be true. You are a supernova of sorts who will do great things for many people. Selfishly, I hope my role as mother has played some part in your ability to do so.

While I may have written this letter to you years before your birth, I want you to know that the sentiments will remain true long after I am gone.

Estoy orgullosa de ti, mi niña inteligente.

Love, Mamá.

By Belinda Pearce

6/11/15