What do we really mean when we say "I love you"?
It occurred to me tonight that the almighty three-word-phrase, when said and meant, should really be a statement of two related parts:
1. I love me through you - that is, being with you makes me feel very good, because of certain things about you (things you do, things you say, how you look, etc);
2. I will do my best to help you love you through me - you also deserve to feel good by being with me, so I will do my best to make that happen by saying things you like to hear, doing things you like, looking good, etc.
When one looks at things this way, it seems business like, transactional, and very unromantic (full disclosure: I have never being accused of being the romantic type). But bear with me as I develop this train of thought.
I was recently thinking about a very young friend that I care a great deal about. As I thought about him, a smile came to my face. Then the logical side of me asked - "What causes this? Why do I always seem to experience these emotions when I think about this friend?" So I began pondering.
I'll spare you the details and go right to the conclusions I came to: I feel this way about this friend because being with him makes me feel good. Not exactly rocket science, but let me explain. The nature of our relationship is such that when we spend time together, we both end up feeling good about ourselves. We like how we feel, so we seek to repeat the experience. As we do this we build bonds and develop a shared history, which makes it easier to feel good when we spend time together. This goes on and on, until it doesn't (life happens, distances lead to communication gaps, etc).
Sounds obvious, doesn't it? What is less obvious is why so many of us (myself included) seem to believe we need intermediaries through which to love ourselves. Why do we find it so hard to love ourselves directly? Why do we set up the game so we need others to trigger the biochemical processes in us that make us feel that sense of being loved? After all, it is not like my young friend sticks his hand in my brain and triggers whatever mechanism gives me the "love feeling." All the work happens inside of me, but he acts as the trigger. Why can't I reduce my dependence on him (and others) and learn to generate this feeling by myself?
The way we've presently set this game up, love becomes a crutch for many of us. Is it really love if we are too scared to bear the thought of losing those we say we love? If we get jealous and possessive, if we stifle their freedom out of fear of getting hurt? What if what will make the friend or lover feel good, will make us feel bad? What do we do then?
So to avoid love becoming a crutch, I propose adding a caveat to the two elements we started with, and it goes thus:
The name of the game is self-love, independence, and inter-dependence. If each of us loves himself/herself directly, then what others bring to relationships are extras that we can enjoy, for as long as those relationships last. There's no need to grasp and fear loss. We grieve if/when relationships end, but we do not mourn because we have lost love, but only because we have lost a lens through which to experience it.
That is the ideal state, and many of us will never reach it. But in striving to develop self-love, we may at least manage to live with fewer self-imposed restrictions.
Love yourself, and share that love with others.
