What Does it Look like to be Loved in the Light?
reflections on loving and being loved - part 1
Loving and being loved has saved me time and again. I would choose to love and lose over never loving at all, in a heartbeat.
I believe that God is Love, and by that I mean that Love is an expression of the divine. My first encounter with this expression of the divine, that is, with Love, was through my parents. The wisdom and fierceness with which my mother guides me when I feel lost and need strategic insight. The gentleness and humor with which my father affirms me when I feel down and need uplifting. I am grateful to have known what it is to be loved all my life, and to never have had reason to question it.
As I reflect on my experiences with Love, I notice that I have felt most loved in my darkness. Being loved has looked like a friend inviting me to sleep over and holding my hand through the night because I was struggling with trauma-related insomnia. A parent jumping on a flight to come spend a little time with me when I was struggling with my mental health. An aunt staying on Skype with me through the night to keep me company when I was afraid. A partner breathing with me through anxious moments and letting me cry as much as I needed to. Being loved through these dark moments convinced me that Love is most profound in the darkness. And perhaps because of that, it has always been a little harder for me to discern being loved in the light - in the brilliance of existing and achieving.
To be sure, I enjoy celebrating small and big wins, and it is rare for me to achieve something without sharing it with someone. I often perceive people’s happiness for me, and celebration with me as communal joy - beautiful, yes, but not quite Love. I have been much slower and more hesitant to come to the realization that celebration, too, is Love. And when I ask myself why being loved in the light doesn’t intuitively feel like Love, the answer feels ugly, scary, and evolving. I say evolving because Love is a communal, iterative act, so the answers I come to as an individual are hardly ever final. There are other people involved, whose actions and behaviors over time shape how I think and feel about our shared experience of Love. I will speak more about this in Part 2, where I will explore Love as qualitative inquiry and how we make meaning of our experiences.
But back to my ugly, scary (evolving) answer. The truth is, I’ve struggled to recognize Love in the light, because in some cases, the people who loved me through my darkness weren’t willing or able to see my light. More specifically, my sense of belonging in some of my most intimate relationships has sometimes felt like it was impeded by my light. It has been implicit at times, and explicit at others. Regardless, it is a recurrent theme in platonic, familial and romantic relationships: I don’t want to be compared to you, I’m not sure what I can offer you, I don’t know what I bring to your table, You’re getting a lot of attention and I’m not sure why you’re here with me. Or worse, a passive aggressive comment shrouded in wit or sarcasm - delivering the same message over and over: You’re too much. You’re too bright. And I hate to admit it, but I have tried to make them feel like I am not too much. And I have affirmed them. And I have dimmed myself in ways that I am only beginning to acknowledge.
As I tentatively start acknowledging this, part of me has wondered - is it truly Love then? Do the people who are only willing or able to love me through darkness truly love me? And on the flipside of that - do I regret de-prioritizing relationships with those who were inclined towards my light without much regard to the darkness? As I mentioned earlier - a lot of the answers to these questions remain unclear and evolving. One thing I keep returning to however - something I mentioned in my first Substack post and that life keeps reaffirming - is that multiple things can be true at once. It is possible that it is Love and you are primarily being loved in your darkness. It is possible that it is Love and you are primarily being loved in your light. It is possible that is Love and you are being loved through and through. Love can be as specific as it is all-encompassing. People will be who they are, and love you how they know best, as far as they are willing and able. And we get to take stock of our experiences, and choose how we want to love and be loved moving forward, without demonizing, castigating or rejecting the ways we have been loved in the past. Because by virtue of the fact that the Love felt pertinent enough for us to stay in it, even for a little while, then it was serving its purpose. Love always serves a purpose. Rather than questioning whether it was real or true, the deeper question is: do we want it to keep serving that purpose? That choice is ours.
As I take stock, I recognize that being loved in my darkness has been healing for me - the Love soothed the broken places and gave me courage and wisdom to put myself back together. I also note that being loved through darkness has felt like a safe zone for me, the kind of Love I am familiar with. And dimming my light in pursuit of more of that Love has come as a natural consequence. For me, part of growing in Love looks like leaning more into the relationships that encourage and affirm my light. Now that I’m better equipped to reckon with darkness after having been loved through it time and again, growing in Love also means learning how to step into my brilliance without dimming myself. Being even more free, more expansive in my expression of self, and seeing what that brings and who that attracts. Being honest with myself and others about my desire to be celebrated as much as I am comforted. Being resolute and unapologetic in my pursuit for Love that stays through the night and also stands with me in the sun.
I will close with a short piece that I wrote after parting ways with one of my loves.
I need me, perhaps more than ever before. I need to be fully present with myself, now that I’m awakened to all the mess and beauty, the brokenness and brilliance within.
They've been lying dormant, untouched, packaged in bubble wrap, stowed away in a big chest hidden in the crevices of my being.
I locked the chest’s doors, the key hanging heavy around my neck - a noose tightening with time.
I knew I needed to remove it before it choked me. But I was scared to take it off in the dark, terrified of losing it in the shadows.
And then we collided, beacons in each other’s shame-filled spaces. We saw the darkness and we stayed.
Tentatively, I removed the key, held it in my trembling hand. How could such a small thing hold such immense power?
Together, we made our way to my chest, your light guiding the way, your gentleness calming my fear.
We stood before it, no longer alone in the darkness. One day, I found the courage to open it, to sift through the hidden things.
You watched and waited, patiently, as I marveled and grieved, laughed and cried, and finally, let go.
I discovered new light in me, hidden in that chest, but yours, yours seemed to flicker and fade. I yearned to reach you, to share my newfound strength, but the shadows seemed impenetrable, depths I couldn't fully grasp.
I had so much of myself to explore, so much to reclaim. I chose to focus on my stuff, hoping that someday we'd immerse ourselves in your chest like we did mine. Part of me feels like you didn't want that anyway. I never did get an invitation, did I?
Another part of me wonders if I was equipped for that. Perhaps my light only served to illuminate the possibility that at the right time, in an aligned pace, there will be people willing to face your chest with you - that you don’t have to hide in the darkness or sift through your things alone.
If you made it this far - here’s a little treat - a perfect Love month anthem that feels resonant with my reflections on loving and being loved.
A few more offerings as we close out Love month: some random notes from my journal entries and one excerpt from my current emotional support show.
Random Notes
Love breaks you open and reshapes you
Love is curious and remains so - always seeking to learn and be learned.
Love is honest! Love says the hard thing - even if it will hurt. Love takes accountability and ownership of its mistakes.
Excerpt from Sweet Magnolias
CeCe: …it’s pretty stupid to leave something you love
Helen: You'll have many loves in your life. Sadly, you won’t be able to keep them in one place or hold them all at the same time…
Aahh Zana! Your writing is stunning, this so well written and moving 👏 im shook and still processing! Thank you for sharing your gift ❤️❤️