It is absolutely mind blowingly insane to accept love.
Not the idea of love, not the hope for what love is and what love can be, but real love.
I grew up hearing the word love a million times a day. So much so that I’m told I use the word too much, but I was never shown love.
I was always held hostage to the idea of love. Love meant I wouldn’t be a letdown and all I was good at was letting others down. I was something in everyone’s eyes but I was never me. I constantly felt pressure to prove I could love/was worthy of love.
To my dad I was always made to feel like I was a liar, a letdown, and moments of boastful lies to his peers where I was “amazing”.
To my sister I was always a bully, a bitch, the person to blame for our less than happy family, yet I was always expected to save her, to be the big sister, when 90% of the time I felt like the enemy.
To everyone else I was the victim, the martyr, the pushover, the saint, I was praised for my actions yet looked down upon for my lack of a voice.
I never felt like anyone saw ME, they all saw labels, they all saw me as whatever mold they believed I was.
I constantly felt like I was letting everyone down, like I didn’t deserve to be loved, like I wasn’t doing enough to “prove my love” to them.
Then I met Pablo, a 15 year old boy who over the years has shown me time and time again that love is never about what you do right or what you do wrong. Love isn’t about how many times you can say the word, it’s not about pleasing others. He’s shown me that you can love someone for who they are. So many times I have not held up my side of this relationship, I sit here afraid. I’m always so afraid he will tell me that I’m all those things I was raised to feel I was and he’s never once done anything less than love me.
He has loved me to the point where I question why. I recall exact dates and moments where, in my mind, he should’ve hated me or worse, but he has just loved me.
He loves me because I’m deserving of love, I’m worth something, it’s insane to be valued. Not one day has gone by in about seven years that I am legitimately thankful that he still loves me at the end of the day.
I always believed love meant I couldn’t let someone down, that I couldn’t fail them, that I had to prove they that came first, even before myself.
Now I feel that love is so many things, but it’s not about what you can do, it’s not about being a mold of someone else’s ideas of what you should be, when someone loves you they love everything that you are, not just in the good times but the bad times.