Choosing our version of love in every relationship
Ever feel like you’re limited to designing your life with too few colors?
Over the last several months I have reflected and written a lot about self-care. Part of that is honoring our desires for howwe love friends and romantic partners, and the structures in which those relationships occur. Sometimes it feels like we have to pick from a limited number of colors in a generic box of crayons. What if we mix our own colors? Can we broaden the palette?
Whenever I am curious about what feels like a very adult concept, I scan back to childhood. Before the layers of complexity were added. Before I was guided to stay within the lines and color the skies blue. Before I cared if things were right or supposed to be a certain way. I used to love to scribble random lines and see if I could morph them into a recognizable image. I would turn the page in a circle, looking for a face or a wing. And I would keep drawing lines and turning the page until a being emerged.
What could it mean to apply that process to love? Without the supposed to be?
The most challenging part of designing a concept of love that honors my needs and desires is the truth that they are movable. As I grow and change, I keep turning the paper to find what new parts of my being are emerging.
Relationships can be co-created. Designed to work for both people, and the relationship as a whole. Structured in a way that honors our changing nature. I have had all sorts of relationships and the ones that stick are the ones that morph as we morph, that have the resilience to adapt as we change individually, that are propelled forward by a common desire to stay connected and see each other thrive.
I hope that we all take the time to reflect on our version of love. How do I want to feel? What am I curious about? Where do I feel free? Where do I feel secure? How is love changing me? How can I change the way I love?
You have an endless spectrum of color. The sky doesn’t always have to be blue.
This is just beautiful, and words I needed today: “I have had all sorts of relationships and the ones that stick are the ones that morph as we morph, that have the resilience to adapt as we change individually, that are propelled forward by a common desire to stay connected and see each other thrive. ”
Too often, *guilt* drives how I show up for my relationships, romantic or otherwise. Am I giving this one enough of me, or too much of me? Where is my time and energy allocated? Is this connection *too* romantic, is this other one less romantic than it *should* be? Does this person want me at my freest and best, and vice versa? What do I give, what do I get? What even drives effort and repetition between any two messy humans? But the root–the desire to stay connected and see both people happy–is a brilliant focal point on which to meet varied–and variable–intentions.