To really love another, one must really love themselves

Our last guest LOVE blogger comes from single dad Brigham. Thanks, B, for the heart-felt post!

When the month of February comes around each year, we all are reminded in some form or another that it is Valentine’s Day and celebration of love whether it is something we individually want to think about or not.  It is in our human nature to want love, companionship, intimacy, and affection in our lives to some degree. I have come across many people looking for these things in their lives whether it is the single person, the divorced person, or the married person. For the single person, they are looking for the “one” to fall in love with and share life with. For the divorced person, to hope for and find love again with the person that is right for them. For the married person,  to continue to have the lasting love and companionship with their partner.

So love is something we all are seeking or longing for, but how can we find love and sustain love with another individual. I believe the key to this is loving yourself or “self love” and knowing yourself. By this, I mean know who you are which includes knowing what you stand for, knowing your own strengths and weaknesses, and loving yourself for whom you are. If there are things you don’t love about yourself than change those things.

 We all have been in those self-pity stages in our lives where we feel no one loves us or cares about us which happens and is normal to feel that way occasionally, but it is those individuals that have love for themselves that can get over that and press on and really love someone else.  When you really look at those people around you that are in loving successful relationships is because they have love for themselves and whom they are. By loving yourself, I am not referring to it just to be all about loving you, but a more selfless love- loving yourself, but also giving of yourself. It is possible to love yourself so much that you become selfish, arrogant, and prideful which are the primary reasons why don’t find love or why love in relationships doesn’t last and leads to relationships ending as well as probably the most immeasurable factor in divorces.

Look at the examples, you have around you of individuals in loving, successful relationships compared to those that  are in unhappy, not so loving relationships and ask yourself these questions.  Are the ones in loving relationships more happy not only individually, but happy together as partners compared to those in not so loving relationships? Are individuals in loving relationships know who they are and tend to love themselves more compared to those in not so loving relationships? Are individuals in loving relationships more selfless compared to those in not so loving relationships?

So to really love someone else, I believe one first must love themselves. Just think about it, if you don’t love yourself, how do you expect anyone else to really love you. Does anyone really want to be with someone that doesn’t love themselves or is not happy with themselves? Do you as an individual want to be with someone that doesn’t love themselves enough where they don’t care or not happy with their lives? Of course not,  most of us don’t want to be with someone that is unhappy or miserable. Yes, it is possible to find love if we don’t really love ourselves or find a relationship with someone that doesn’t love themselves, but as individuals we have to think is that something we really want and is it something that would be a loving, lasting relationship that we all long for.

LOVE Guest Blogger Jocelyn - Love Means Never Having to Remember What a Doofus You Once Were

From Guest Blogger Jocelyn of the awesome blog, "We Talk of Christ, We Rejoice in Christ." 


I visited my parents last week.  It was my mom's birthday, and I haven't been back to my hometown in nearly two years, so it was time.

There have been some changes in my little home base.  For instance, my parents don't live in the house that I grew up in anymore.  And the city finally put in sidewalks and added a stop light at one of the busiest intersections, bringing the grand total for traffic lights to two.

Other than that the town still looks the same to me.  The streets have the same names, and the small houses still bring back the same memories for me.  My folks now live in my grandparent's old house, which happens to be down the street-just seven houses away-from my childhood home.

When I go home, I can remember everything.  I remember all of my adolescent milestones:  my first friend, first sleep-over, the first time I rode my bike around alone.  I remember my first date, my first kiss, the first boy I ever had a crush on.  I remember all of the funny antics of my siblings growing up in a small town.

This time when I went home, though, I was also reminded of every dumb thing I'd ever done to my Dad in about five seconds time.  Let me explain.  It happened when my dad backed his car into mine when he was leaving for work one afternoon.

When he came inside to tell me, he was so tore up about it...he was just so sad.  I followed him outside to tell him that I don't even care about the car...I only care about and love him!  I didn't want him to go to work feeling bad about himself.

I said, "Dad, I've broken about a hundred things of yours in the past..." and in an instant about a dozen or more memories flashed back into my recollection of times in my youth that I had carelessly broken something of his, or when I had neglected to keep a promise or complete a task that he had asked me to do or when I had been greedy and inconsiderate of his time, a time that I failed to repay a loan, and even a time that I had been too selfish to share the TV remote with him one Saturday afternoon!

I had to squeeze my eyes tight to keep the tears from falling as I wrapped my arms around my big, wonderful dad, and said simply, "I love you."

But what I meant to say was thank you.  Thank you for not remembering all of the times that I was a complete doofus growing up, for not feeling the need to remind me of it, and for loving me in spite of it.

He might have "broken" my car (just a little bit), but my dad has never broken a promise.  He has never broken my spirit.  He has never broken my heart.  

And somewhere in there, there's a big lesson for all of us about love.  It's not the kind of love that gets sung about on the radio.  It's not the stuff that screenplays are made of.  But it's a kind of love that is most exquisite, a kind of love that is quiet, and rare, and real.

--
Jocelyn Christensen
http://beinglds.blogspot.com

LOVE- comes in all shapes and sizes - Guest Blogger Ozy Mum

Another Guest Blogger on LOVE- a truly unique and different story today!

I love driving along the road with the wind in my hair, singing at the top of my voice to Foreigner's, "I wanna know what love is .. " . Apart from liking the song, I love that whilst my mouth is busy singing the words, my brain is busy asking " Do I really know what love is? "  

This is a question that frequently haunts my thoughts.  As a little girl, dreaming of white knights and honeymoons in Switzerland, I only thought of love as being what I needed in my childhood cocoon and, what seemed like an eternity away, that MAN who would sweep me of my feet and declare undying love for me and ME only ! .  My Dad's bear hugs when the whole world was against me (more likely my Mum telling me off !), a homemade biscuit when walking into an empty house after school, a book that I could lose myself in and dancing were the loves that I knew I could count on.  Later, when a week after my 14th birthday, my Mother left, those sureties lessened even more and love became something that for me, was difficult. I had no problem loving others but being able to accept that I was a lovable person was a whole other ball game AND a whole other blog.  

I wanna talk about love ... love between a HUSBAND and WIFE.

Except for the obligatory "falling out before they marry " , Hollywood would have us believe that LOVE,  a REAL TRUE LOVE,  is always GOOD.  ALWAYS happy, ALWAYS shining.  Nothing bad ever happens to two people who are TRULY in LOVE.  Not that this is anything new, because since time began, we have heard fairytales of TRUE LOVE  and HAPPY EVER AFTER from birth.  In these days of " I want it and I want it NOW", if there is even a slight smudge of a thumbprint on the shininess of TRUE LOVE , it's become a case of discard that love,  he or she is not the ONE. 

 Well, after dabbling in Hollywood fantasy and lust dressed up as "love and marriage" during my tender Twenties, and spending 20 years in contemplation of what LOVE between a man and woman should be, whilst raising my children single handedly, I thought that I was well PREPARED for my MAN to come thundering in and fly me to the Swiss Alps.   I thought that I had debunked the whole mystery of being in LOVE with HIM and was just waiting for MY happy ever after to BEGIN.  I knew that it takes TWO to MAKE a marriage and it takes TWO to BREAK a marriage. 

I had found ME during that time and discovered that not only was I stubbornly independent (a quality that I have most generously shared with my own daughter ), intelligent, sexy and strong ( yes, I shared those too!) but I was also LOVABLE.   

Drum roll, please.....  dadadadaaa,   and then I found HIM!  Now this is no small feat considering that I was all the way around the globe living in Perth, Western Australia and he hails from Utah, USA !!  We struck up a friendship in an online dating site whilst he was driving across his country in a white Peterbuilt truck and I sold fabrics in mine.  As an aside, it's actually amazing just how many people the inter (or as MY man would say entire) net has actually matched into couples!   We developed warm fuzzies for each other, got engaged, had the obligatory falling out, got together in the same country, said YES and committed to an ETERNITY together and then REALITY set in.    HORRIBLE, HARD, HURTFUL REALITY.  

Who was THIS man ??  Why, when we LOVE each other so much was it so difficult to LIVE together ?  How come I never got told that LOVE  hurt? That there were days when LOVE was buried under a tonne of words that harmed ??  That you can LOVE and HATE in the same minute????  That there were times when running far, far away seemed like the best solution??  (Certainly not an easy thing to do when living in a country that has not yet become home!) 

How can REAL love be so painful ?  Everything that I had learned or THOUGHT  I had learned about TRUE LOVE, ETERNAL LOVE  vanished.  Now, I told you I am stubborn, so giving up is not something that I really do well!!   Immigration stepped into the fight and soon I was returning to my safe place and my children, to figure out that age old question .. what is LOVE but more importantly if this is what LOVE is, can I LIVE with it ???  

Now, don't get me wrong, I am married to an amazing man. A GOOD man.  WE match on so many levels.  WE LOVE each other, it's just darn hard to live together. 

Six weeks later, that thumbprint smudge had covered any shininess and I was ready to discard and move on.  Then at 5 am on Thursday  9th October 2008, I answered the call that NO ONE ever wants to answer.  Life changed in a nanosecond.  In that lightning flash of horror that occurs, I  KNEW  that nothing mattered except LOVE.   I flew home to Idaho.   For the next 3 magical months, LOVE was HEAVEN.  HEAVEN was LOVE.   My MAN, slept deep in his coma for a few weeks and floated in sedation for a few more.  LOVE was EASY for the first time. I felt him, I heard him, I knew he was there, I KNEW THAT HE LOVED ME,  even as I dealt with staff telling me to think about THAT  choice, QUALITY VERSUS QUANTITY of life.  As his broken body and brain started to come together into some semblance of the man I said YES to,  his ICU room became OUR HEAVEN.  When he learnt to speak again just before Christmas that year, HIS first words were " I know I love you and I know we are married I just don't remember your name."   There will never be ANYTHING  he can utter that will ever be as sweet and  magical as those words.  

January 3rd 2009, our HEAVEN vapourised as a plane swiftly returned me to the land Down Under and REALITY and our PAST returned with vigour.  Along with the added bonus of dealing with the changes that Quadriplegia and memory loss bring to our LIFE here on Earth.  In the last two years, those kilometres/miles have afforded US the chance to sift through baggage and FIND the FOREVER US.  

LOVE, a REAL TRUE LOVE is not just a feeling. It's a COMMITMENT and a CHOICE.  Everyday we CHOOSE to LOVE and we CHOOSE to COMMIT.  Some days are better than others.  Some days are so BRIGHT and SHINY that WE can see FOREVER. 

The only thing my white knight rides now is an electric wheelchair and I still haven't had a honeymoon but do I know what LOVE is ???      OH, YEAH. 

LOVE Guest Blogger Ginny - To know love you first my know yourself.

Today's LOVE guest writer is my cousin, Ginny. She's a country wife and mother of three. Her blog is "A Peaceful Way," where she talks about learning to parent in a more loving and peaceful way to her three high spirited children.

Marriage is not something I can speak about without first closing my eyes, and remembering the girl I used to be.  My father was very critical of falseness. He always told me to just be myself.  But I never knew who I was, or worse, deep down I was afraid that the self my real self was, was worthless, boring, and not worth true friendship or love.

I muddled through my life, trying on one personality after another, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.The rare times that I relaxed and let my hair down, I didn't like me, and no one else did either. I was depressing and over-analytical. I would quickly stuff that person back away, and put on my false face again so at least someone would be my friend again.

I went through pain, lots of pain, and I learned that pain could be my friend in many ways, because it helped me forget myself, and wonder if anyone else had ever felt pain in just that way too.

Then I met Kevin, my now husband. I don't know why he disarmed me like he did. But for the first time in my life, I began to see myself through his eyes. His eyes cut through any need I had to hide my true self, and for some reason, I liked what they saw. I still put on a show for everyone else, but for him, I could not even if I wanted to. He could see me, as no one else, not even I myself, had ever seen me. And he saw something worth having.

Our first year of marriage was a full year of fighting. I am pretty sure I cried myself to sleep at least once a week, questioned my decision to marry at least every other day, and despaired that nothing would ever improve, at least once a month.

Then we learned the art of apology and forgiveness, the philosophy of live and let live, and the absolute value of a genuine, warm smile. (Perhaps I learned that last one first.)

Marriage, for me, explored all the wounds of my past, ripped open the unhealed corners of my psyche, and aired them out for my husband and I to see. It was excruciating, but it was also therapeutic. I learned to be humble. I learned to be okay with being imperfect and letting others see that imperfection, because we really can't hide anything from our spouse. Not really. Not who we are or what we feel.

(I find that more often than not, people who are hesitant to marry are usually those who are scared of facing their own demons. To them I say...when were you planning on facing them?)

My husband and I were such an imperfect pair, riddled with baggage, emotional scarring, and so much buried pain. You wouldn't believe the hateful words we would scald one another with. Yet there were moments, even in that first year, when we could let go and laugh at ourselves, forget all the hurtful things we'd just said, and embrace as everything else in the world melted away. None of the problems mattered in those moments. Only our friendship and love existed.

I can only speak for myself here, and not for him, so I will say...as I began to heal as a person, our marriage began to heal as well. When I took responsibility for my part, without needing anything from him, our relationship began to become more often a source of comfort than pain.

My marriage, I discovered, is an exact mirror image of my inner self. If my inner self is in turmoil, so will my marriage be. If my inner self is at peace and harmonious, so is my marriage. If I feel self-loathing, I will loathe my husband. If I feel self-love, I will love him dearly. So the motivation to be okay inside is multiplied ten fold, because now our entire family hangs on the health of our marriage. Happiness is not a dream for some day in the future, it is a constant mission of greatest importance, day after day. It is sought for in all the ways we know how, but mostly by practicing unconditional forgiveness and love. It doesn't have to make sense, he doesn't have to be sorry, I can still forgive, because I choose to...because I choose happiness and love.

Maturity is taking power over who I want to be, and the life I want to have, and making the choices and changes to get there.

Maturity is absolutely necessary in my opinion, for a happy life at all, married or not. I love marriage, however, because it forced me to look at myself, and question my belief system. It forced me to ask myself if I love myself truly, and why? Marriage forced me to stop stuffing down my true feelings, deal with them, and let them pass so I could finally open up to other people instead of hiding behind a false persona. Marriage has taught me that I am worth loving. Marriage has changed me in ways I couldn't have dreamed were possible or necessary when I was single. I never knew the ugliness inside of me, or the beauty, until I was placed under the microscope in this, God's laboratory. I never knew that I had the power to choose to be beautiful, and to let the ugliness slip under like sand washing away from a cradled seashell.

If I could talk to my dad now, (he passed away a few years ago), I wonder if I would have the courage to be myself? I wonder if I would be able to tell him I want to be like him when I grow up-honest with myself, honest with everybody else, in every possible way. I know for certain that my dad would instruct me to be best friends with my husband, and let nothing and no one get in the way of that, not even him or Mom. He would tell me not to ask for marriage advice from anyone, because "you get what you pay for when you get free advice." He would say no one else is married to my husband, and no one besides me has more motivation to work things out. He would tell me, "Don't worry if you two don't fit together just right all the time, this life is the time to learn how to do that." And then he would throw his head back and laugh, because of course he just violated his own advice, and gave advice. I would relax in his warm company, and I would go home and tell my husband I was the luckiest wife in the world, and wonder at how many more transformations marriage has in store for me, in the many, many years ahead.

Erin's PS- I love you Ginny! Just the way you are!!

Love Guest Blogger Lindsey - "Could I love an adopted child as much as a biological one?

For our first LOVE guest blogger, I am thrilled to bring you one of my favorite bloggers and "old" friends, Lindsey. Lindsey is the fabulous voice behind "the r house" blog. She is also an adoption advocate. Every day she bares her soul and puts herself out there educating the world about the joys and blessings of adoption. I have loved her for years (since she was 12!) and love her that much more for living a life worth talking about now. 

Could I love an adopted child as much as a biological one?

By Lindsey Redfern, www.therhouse.blogspot.com

mrs and mr r

I am married to the love of my life and the most hysterically funny man I know. He is my favorite Valentine.

As most newlyweds do (whether they admit it or not), we would often talk about what our future children would look like--super tall like my husband, blue-eyed, brunette, sassy and athletic with enormous lips and shoulders. (We both have really broad shoulders and lips to match.)

After five years of marriage, the last thing we thought the doctor would ever tell us is that we would never be able to have biological children. We were crushed as the dream of those children we had imagined slipped away. We cried ourselves to sleep too many nights to remember.

When we discussed whether the path of adoption was right for our family, I wondered if I could love an adopted child as much as a biological one. Would there be a difference? Would I feel bonded to them? Would they feel bonded to us? Would we really be a family? We discussed it as a couple and my wise husband pointed out that he and I were not biologically related and yet the love and bond that we had was unbreakable. So true! Biological love is not the only kind of love that makes a family.

We came to understand in no uncertain terms that adoption was how our family was to be created. What once felt so heavy and sad had turned into light and hope due to the miracle of adoption and the love of two brave birth mothers.

When I held my oldest son for the first time in the hallway outside his birth mother’s hospital room, I literally felt my heart leap. My eyes welled up with tears of joy and that undeniable feeling of motherhood filled me from head to toe. Those chocolate brown baby eyes stole my heart and continue to every day.

Lindsey holding Gavin for the first time! Look at her smile! Tell me that isn't love!

When my youngest son (Gavin) was born and I held that little bundle for the first time in his birth mother’s hospital room, his luscious lips and wild black hair won me over. Here was this perfect little spirit that needed us to fight for the life his birth mother chose for him. We were in court for the first 18 months of his life in a contested adoption with his birth father. We won and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t take extra time to love on the baby that we almost lost.

A Mom and her two darling boys!

Our family does not look alike. Not one of us share a common stand of physical DNA. But, the spiritual DNA that binds our family together is familiar to me. Those strands that I recognize in my children are the same strands that I recognized in my husband when we first fell in love. They are what make us a close-knit family. And all three of my boys are the loves of my life.

LOVE!

From Erin - PS- I currently work with the young women at my church. I often encourage them to be friends regardless of their age differences (encourage the high school seniors to get to know the 7th graders). I told my sister this and she couldn't think of who the younger girls were when she was the oldest. I admitted I couldn't remember who the 12 year olds were either from when I was 18. Which is silly because I know I was friends with them and nice to them! But I couldn't name any of them. Three nights later I woke up in the middle of the night and yelled "Lindsey!" Not only do I know exactly who those "little girls" were when I was 18, but I'm still friends with her now! I just haven't thought of her as a little girl in a very long time!