Letters to Little One

To be Loved

Dear Little One,

Growing up, I watched a lot of kinds of love grow and die. And as I went about my own life, I was introduced to many of its relatives, both honest and fake.  I found it in family, I found it in friends, I found it in church, but I longed for the day when I’d come face to face with the love that everyone is always talking about. I knew it was out there waiting for me, as it is for everyone, and that I’d just have to be patient in my search, but some days were harder than others to do so.

When I was little, I saw the love as a fairytale. It was a type of magic I couldn’t wait to get my hands on. There would be sunsets and dresses and sparkly things, birds chirping and people singing. As I got older, the picture changed. The magic was still there, but maturity morphed its boundaries and shaped its face.

It wasn’t until I reached high school that I started to wonder if it was even in the cards for me at all. I was in the heat of adolescence, reaching out for any sort of steady self-esteem, but all I seemed to find were the slippery fingers of those more perfect than I’d ever be. They looked at me with subconscious pity, assuring me love was around the corner, and I watched them walk away into the magic.

In the years that followed, my self-doubt spread like wildfire throughout my entire body. Nothing about me seemed interesting or unique or beautiful. There were days when I’d spend hours getting ready, solely because I felt as if nothing made me look good enough to deserve the kind of love I longed for.

“I’ll never look like her.”

“I’ll never have what she has.”

“I’ll never be as interesting or witty or funny.”

Eventually, I convinced myself that the magic I once dreamed of was simply not for me. It just wasn’t something I was going to have because I was never going to be good enough. That became my truth and the conversations about love with my friends were the lies. The hopes and dreams I had for the future were simply fabrications that made conversations flow. That love was for them, not me.

But that’s not true, is it?

That’s not true for anyone.

We are all worthy of the love we imagine. We just have to imagine it truthfully, for who are as individuals. Because the truth is, no one is going to be loved the same way, because we are not the same people. We can’t hope to be loved for being someone else because we are no one else but ourselves.

Amongst the lies told by my self-doubt, was the one that told me love was something I would give, but not receive. The idea of someone standing in their best dressed, asking me to marry them, was laughable. Why would someone love me? How would anyone ever fall in love with me?

These past two years, I have finally been able to find the answers.

Why would someone love me? Because I do.

How would anyone ever fall in love with me? Because I have.

The answer was there all along.

The secret to finding true love in another is first finding it in yourself.

If I can stand firmly on the rock that tells me I’m worthy of love, not only will I have the courage to seek it, but I will have the eyes to see through those who speak of it with a false tongue.

If I can build within me a foundation of self-acceptance, I will always have a home to turn to in times of struggle, and a starting block to stand on in times of heartbreak.

An honest love starts from within, so start with you.

You are the epicenter of your own love story.

See you soon.


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