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

What If?

An insight into the mind of a first-time migrant

There I sat, in a buzzing hairdressing salon one week before Christmas, staring silently at my own reflection. I was privy to the erratic movement and chatter of the clients and staff around me, but all were blurred in slow motion as I contemplated my immediate future.

A wonderfully appropriate nineties playlist echoed through the speakers in the ceiling above. I ebbed in and out of consciousness, my reflection intermittently appearing as if I were looking through the lens of a camera drifting in and out of focus. When I wasn’t lost in the evocative lyrics of songs like 4 Non Blondes’ ‘What’s Up?’ and Eagle Eye Cherry’s ‘Save Tonight’, I found myself mulling over feelings of frustration and situational isolation.

“Migration is exciting, exciting, exciting!” so anyone who has never migrated internationally will tell you. Migration, particularly for the first time, is scary as all hell. Yes, there are many attractive elements - the promise of adventure, opportunities, and immersion into a culture other than your own which brings with it an abundance of exciting experiences. Inevitable though are the insecurities and uncertainties that are all encompassing in that final month before departure.

While the psychological adjustment is a major part of migration, so too is the time consuming process of ensuring all paperwork and legalities are checked off before leaving the homeland. Unfortunately, this list is continuous and will not see completion until the day of departure (if you’re lucky).

As I mentally checked off my own ‘to do’ list, the nineties music persisted as a suitable soundtrack to my current mindset. While Deep Blue Something's 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' left me lamenting lost time with someone special, the uplifting lyrics of New Radicals' 'You Get What You Give' reminded me of my own willingness and tenacity to succeed in a foreign country; this song, in that very moment, was the life jacket to provide buoyancy while preventing me from drowning in the sea of stress I’d ultimately succumb to.

A hairdresser pulled at my strands as I sat in the obnoxiously large black chair, the intense heat of the hairdryer blowing heavily upon my face as she frantically brushed at my scalp. I used this ironic moment of solitude to introspect upon the multitude of uncertainties clouding the forefront of my mind. They ranged from the deeply personal to the highly trivial – there seemed to be no in-between. I mulled over my growing list of ‘what ifs’ until my frenetic mind had reached an unexpected level of clarity…

• What if my money isn't accessible in the UK upon arrival?
• What if I accidentally leave essential paperwork in Australia?
• What if I’m not paid on time?
• What if I can't work out the bus schedules to and from school? What if I’m late on my first day?
• What if I can't handle the cold, English winter?
• What if I can't find an affordable gym close to home and the lack of exercise drives me mad?
• What if I can't find my favourite vegetables in abundance? Will my healthy diet suffer?
• What if I can’t afford wifi?
• What if I don't like my apartment, or I have bad neighbours?
  
• What if he’s ‘the one that got away’?
• What if I’d never misunderstood the sudden distance? Will I always wonder what could have been?
• What if he never really cared in the first place?

• What if my mum cries at the airport? What if I do too?
• What if someone in my family gets sick? How will I possibly take care of them from the other side of the world?
• What if my siblings forget about me? Will they become accustomed to life without a (present) big sister? What if they’re ok with that?
• What if my beloved dog passes away while I'm overseas? How will he know that I never, ever stopped loving him? Will he know that I miss kissing him above the eyes and tickling his chin?
• What if my Nan thinks I've forgotten about her because I can't afford to call? Why won't she get the Internet already?
  
• What if I go weeks or months without so much as a hug?
• What if I can't stand my new school?
• What if my students can't stand me?
• What if I feel incompetent, and the U.K. curriculum reads like jibberish?
• What if I like him more than he likes me?
• What if New Year’s Eve doesn’t go as planned, or it is cancelled altogether?

• What if his opinion of me changes? 

• What if my friends and I miss each other terribly? 
• What if we don’t? Will I make new friends?

• What if I'm unable to save money because the cost of living is too high?
• What if my worry is in vain and I love the U.K., never wishing to return to Australia?
• What if I forget all about New York City, and end up regretting it later in life?
• What if leaving for London was the best decision I ever made?

Despite the ‘what ifs’, my conscience is resolute in deciding to leave Australia for the United Kingdom; this is the right move for right now.

While the underlying anxiety that comes with first-time migration cannot be avoided, the element of excitement deep within will certainly allow it to gradually subside. Wembley Stadium rock concerts await my arrival, as does Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre (and the 400^th Anniversary celebration). The pop culture convention I’ll be working in February will undoubtedly provide me with stories for my friends back home, whereas the cobblestone streets I'll photograph and the castles I'll explore will feed my sense of wanderlust tenfold.

The bold decision to migrate may have started as a flight response to a frustrating breakup, and the journey has indeed been time consuming and emotionally trying, but the rewards I am yet to reap are lifelong and highly complemented by my determination to make the most of what’s yet to come.

By Belinda Pearce

17/12/15