Healing has taught me a lot—but nothing prepared me for this harsh reality: I don’t know how to love. I feel ashamed and foolish. No one told me that even with all the self-awareness, even after all the therapy, love could still feel like unfamiliar territory. I thought healing would make love easier. But that’s far from the truth – at least in my world. This is the part no one talks about.

For so long, I’ve been focused on making myself feel better—on healing, surviving, putting the pieces back together. In that process, love became something I deeply desired… but giving love? That wasn’t even on my radar.

I didn’t think it was a weakness of mine. Not once. And if you asked a room full of therapists, they’d probably all say the same thing: it’s normal. It’s normal for someone who was never truly loved to struggle with knowing how to love back.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easier.

My brain freezes. Completely shuts down. Suddenly, I can’t think, can’t respond. It’s like the concept is too big—too layered—for me to understand. Why is my brain doing this? I ask myself. And then it hits me: my brain is panicking. It thinks my world is about to fall apart. That this weakness—this moment of uncertainty—could unravel everything I’ve built. Because in my world, there’s no room for weakness.
We don’t do that. We’re strong. We survive. We push through.

But love doesn’t live in that same space. Love isn’t about surviving—it’s about softening. And that… is where the real work begins.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be writing a post about learning how to love others. For someone who’s spent a lifetime understanding the kind of love I deserve, I never imagined how hard it would be to give that same love in return. I used to think that if you knew what you were looking for, you’d naturally know how to offer it—that desire and awareness would somehow translate into action. But I was dead wrong. Knowing what love should look like doesn’t mean you know how to live it out. Especially when trauma has taught you to stay small, stay silent, stay safe.

Here’s how this came up for me:

I have a wonderful man in my life. Truly, a good-hearted man.
He loves me with his entire being—with his time, with his words, with his presence. I honestly couldn’t have prayed for anyone better. He sees me, believes in me, and holds space for me in a way I’m still learning to accept. And yet, here I am – struggling.

I struggle to meet him where he is. Not because I don’t love him—but because love feels like a language I was never taught. I get insecure. I question myself. I worry that he deserves someone more emotionally fluent, more natural at giving affection and expressing warmth. It hurts to admit that. But it’s the truth.

I’m starting to realize—this is the next chapter of my healing. Healing isn’t just about recovering from the past, it’s about the present moment that will last a lifetime. It’s about learning how to give the very love I’ve spent my whole life longing for. So, how do I begin this new mission of mine?

Learning to Give What I Never Received:

✅ Love is a daily choice, not just a passing feeling.
I’m learning to show up for love on the quiet days, not just when I feel moved or emotional. Love requires consistency, not convenience.

✅ Letting my emotional walls down, one layer at a time.
I’ve spent years protecting myself. But healing means learning to gently lower those defenses—and trusting that love can exist without needing armor.

✅ Finding strength in softness.
I used to think strength meant being tough. Now I know real strength is found in vulnerability, in tenderness, in letting myself feel.

✅ Practicing intentional love, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Love isn’t about what’s easy for me—it’s about showing up for him in the ways he needs, even if it stretches me.

✅ Learning to speak his love language, not just my own.
If I want to love him well, I have to learn how he receives love—and be willing to grow into that, even if it’s unfamiliar.

✅ Risking vulnerability, even when it feels awkward or unsafe.
It might never feel totally comfortable—but love is worth the risk. I’d rather try than shut down and miss out.

✅ Committing to show up, even imperfectly.
I won’t always get it right. But I’ll keep showing up, keep trying, and keep letting love guide me forward.

Take Away

If you’re reading this and see yourself in any part of my journey—know you’re not alone. Healing doesn’t stop at self-awareness; it stretches into our relationships, into our softness, into the ways we choose to love even when it’s uncomfortable. Love isn’t just something we wait for—it’s something we learn, something we practice, and something we give, even when we’re scared. So if you’re standing at the edge of love, unsure of how to step in—take the risk. Take it gently, take it slowly, but take it anyway. Because love—real, growing, intentional love—is worth every step. You have nothing to lose for something your heart will only gain. Not love that manipulates or abuses. Not love that asks you to shrink or suffer. But love that sees you. Holds you. Stays with you. Love that wants to grow with you—that’s the kind of love your heart deserves to swell in. The kind that brings peace, not confusion. You have nothing to lose for something your heart will only gain.