Learning to love and be loved

Loving and being loved are not “givens.” The world would be a far better place if each child who is brought into it was wanted and beloved—if not before birth then shortly after, once its presence resounds. That, unfortunately, is not the case. Horror stories, such as those described in the Adverse Childhood Experiences studies, abound, detailing challenges faced by unloved children. One inevitable outcome is that they then need to learn to give and receive love. Because love was not something they always knew, they do not automatically know how to do it well, especially when it comes to loving themselves and feeling worthy of being loved by another.

Happily, a capacity to feel love seems to be as hard-wired as our abilities to walk, speak, read, or play. Some internal conditions such as a sound sensorimotor system, absence from pain, access to relative comfort, and basic safety from harm allow a baby to enjoy the pleasures of touch, of reciprocity in gazes and laughter, of being able to depend on someone to care for needs that cannot yet be met independently. A “secure attachment,” the cornerstone of a loving relationship, develops out of trust that someone will provide what is needed. When neglect, abuse, or squalor replace basic comfort, the baby develops a different understanding of and set of expectations for relationships.Human impulses to help and provide care cannot be assumed. The simple kindness of someone who offers comfort or attention can be (mis)understood as love; perhaps sheer consistency of availability provides a safe feeling that becomes labeled “love.” In these cases, love is defined by a relationship that offers care instead of cruelty, friendship instead of unpredictability, or affection instead of deprivation. Love becomes defined by experiences that release chemicals—oxytocin (the cuddle/caring hormone), dopamine (the pleasure chemical), vasopressin (for attraction) or, following puberty, the estrogen and testosterone of lust. The delight of feeling accepted and valued is yet to be experienced. Yet love can be learned, especially once we reach adolescence, gain capacities for forethought and conscious intention, and can learn to love ourselves. With a maturing brain that permits reflection and expanded life experiences that make room for a broader social circle, people are able to observe themselves with curiosity, attention, compassion, and kindness. Curiosity, a willingness to explore and accept the full range of reactions and feelings, brings the ability to be grateful for all that our emotions and bodily sensations can teach about the human experience. It can prod one to look beneath the surface of appearances, to discover substance beneath an introvert’s quiet or emptiness underneath glitter. Trying out a new role, developing a new skill, investigating a possible future self can bring honesty and inner direction and with them the self-respect that lies at the core of loving oneself. Attention is the second prong of self-love. Attention means examining what brings pleasure or alleviates pain and to invest in providing for both. It is a form of self-love easily amplified by mindfulness, reflection, stillness. In taking the time to listen to one’s body and honor a need for food, drink, movement, an increase or decrease in stimulation, we learn to identify our own needs, to discriminate between needs and wants, and to discover ways to care for ourselves. Yoga stretches can be metaphors for stretching oneself in other ways; balance postures can reflect internal equilibrium; the regular practice of the art can build self-discipline. Our subtler needs come into focus when we slow down and pay attention. Compassion may be the magic key to self-love. The empathy we feel when we look at ourselves with compassionate love allows us to recognize our imperfections and accept our human desires, impulses, and especially our limited reserves. We can stop making irrational demands on ourselves in order to believe we are lovable. Seeking to be “good enough” to be worthy of love only invites us to climb onto the treadmill of perfectionism. Countless innovative psychologists have shown us that “perfect” does not exist in our human experience.

Psychologytoday