First Love

The first time I fell in love was in fourth grade to a boy named Alan. I couldn’t exactly say what it was about him that enthralled me so. He was an average boy, bestowed with average skills and intellect, yet he held me utterly captive with a splattering of freckles and a neat cap of blonde hair. What I can say, is that this boy took up a lot of time and space in my life. I was compelled to make myself more interesting—in thought and behavior and mutual interests—so he would want to know me. I thought if I worked hard enough on becoming a better me for someone else, love would naturally be returned.

Alas, Alan would be an introduction to an awkward adolescence in which I would apply the same love method over and over again, only to receive the same disappointing results.

Eventually, I would discover that the method was right, but what hindered my success in love was the subject. I kept choosing the same kind of boy investing a lot of my time and effort to him. Once I made a shift, things began to fall into place.

This was not easy. I came close to success in love using my old model. So, there was still a big part of me that was convinced I was onto something and just needed a little more practice. But there was a voice, quiet at first, that told me I didn’t have it quite right. This voice was persistent and gradually got loud enough that I had to listen.

The problem wasn’t the time and energy I put into finding love. The problem was, rather than trying to be a better me for someone else, I simply had to be a better me. For me. This may be obvious to a lot of people, and I hope that it is. It means you’ve already realized your importance and therefore what it means to be loving in the world, with all your own amazing gifts and qualities.

Once I figured out that I needed to know who I was first, that the evolution of my own thoughts and behavior and interests was important to me—more than it was for someone else—was when love could find me. I wouldn’t meet my husband for a long time yet. I faltered through several relationships that taught me a lot. When I did marry, much to my surprise, romantic love remained a chase and negotiation, a reward and a disappointment. Marriage was not the answer, only a larger question.

And there have been long stretches where I have forgotten about my earlier revelations. The mundane routines of domestic life, the management of children, the fluxes of my spouse have all distracted me at times from: my sense of self, my pursuit for personal expansion, the way I want to be in the world.

Luckily though, I will remember. I remember that love—any kind of love—can only come to me when I make sure there is a solid, whole person to receive it. That as wonderful as it is to be loved by someone else, as hard as it is to win the affections and high regard of someone else, these things are more wonderful and even harder to have of yourself.

I have a daughter who is now about the same age as when I fell in love with Alan. We’ve had many conversations about boys and love and expectations. I never know what will stick. But what I hope for, is that she will understand that loving and knowing herself is the first love she should try and capture long before all the others.

Wishing you all a happy Valentine’s Day, full of peace, gratitude and of course—love.