A mother’s love — a love one would say is automatic, unequivocal, unconditional, undeniable — but yet missing between a mother and a daughter. A sibling’s love, one that, however incredibly annoying it can be, is not forced. Family, as well, all seems to be love sold as a packaged deal. However common these relationships are, all are not cookie-cutter designed to look, appear, feel, or even — Hell — they look different in every family. Some parents love their children and show it the only way they know how. Some parents resent their children, as for some reason their life would have been different had the child/children never existed. The categories can be endless. Some parents never knew love themselves and find themselves on a continuous journey for the love they presume is owed to them.

It wasn’t until recently — a spiritual journey that I began with myself — that I began to realize the love that I searched for wasn’t a love that I even recognized. You see, originally I thought that I just wanted to be loved like I loved people: genuinely, wholeheartedly, unequivocally, without bias. I found myself loving people, people who didn’t love me; however, I fought hard to show them, regardless of their feeling toward me, I loved them unequivocally, genuinely, wholeheartedly. All of which, until recently, I realized I just wanted to be loved by anyone. You see, it’s hard begging for someone who birthed you to love you the way you need to be loved, when they themselves aren’t familiar with what love feels like. This wasn’t written to blame anyone, but to show that I am healing.

Recognition is where I began healing. I recognized where and what went wrong and remained conscious of what could be done to begin the mending process.

One, I couldn’t make someone love me the way that I wanted them to love me; either they did or they didn’t.