Life Stuff (Personal)- Concern out of Love.
In my life, I have been told âIâm concerned because I love youâ but have never felt the love, only the concern.
Only judgement, scolding, lecturing, concern- for their own reasons. Never genuinely seeming like they care for me any more than themselves.
When my ex would make me eat because âthey were concerned for meâ when in reality they admitted they needed to be around me all of the time and I would get moody if I didnât eat. So it wasnât out of love or concern for me- it was out of the consequences they would suffer.
With my grandma being âconcernedâ I was being influenced because my boyfriend doesnât go to church or view God the same way she does, she never actually had a conversation with me. She judged him and said I am getting into trouble before she even knew what his name was.
With my mom being âconcernedâ I hadnât been doing much with my time before asking me the progress I had been making in creating, researching, re-organizing my room and the plans I had made. Even when I told her, she still brought up the fact she was concerned about pointless things to avoid admitting being wrong, remain right and seem like a âgood mother.â
I have also never ever felt or received self sacrifice, love without gaining something in return, or genuine compromise. In the past it was âdo this because I canât handle myself otherwise so I need you.â or with my mother especially, she would refuse to drive me and my brother because it was inconvenient for her, even when she was fully capable. Her hugs never felt like hugs, they felt like a checklist item to say sheâs a âgood motherâ by a textbook definition. Nothing I did was ever excused without needing to justify my actions, or why I liked what I did. My mother wouldnât share what I liked, if she couldnât find something to like about it- yet would make me experience what she wanted to do simply because she wanted to do it. My grandma couldnât accept the fact I wore fidget rings founded from Buddhism, or that my boyfriend has tattoos and doesnât go to church, so she judged him and me with looks and lectures. My mother and my grandma both have narcissistic tendencies.
I have never before felt the love that is supposed to go along with concern in those moments, or any form of compromise or self sacrificial love.
Until recently, with my boyfriend and his family.
I recently received spinal surgery. It was a massive surgery, and in my healing- I have a tendency to pick at my skin. I had been consistently picking and getting mad at myself over it. That when I shamefully told my boyfriend and he asked to see- I was full of shame, regret and dread. That he was going to judge me, or make me feel awful for what Iâd done, that it would affect his own mental wellbeing somehow.
He took a look at it. And said âoh babe- ok. Itâs ok, donât freak out, but you have picked away a good bit. Is it ok if I patch it up for you?â
This was at 11 pm at his house, he was on the verge of falling asleep after a long day. He didnât make me feel bad. He didnât guilt me. He kept saying âoh babe- itâs ok-â as he put bandages over the parts of my back I had torn open again by kitchen light. He was very very tired but wanted to do this for me to make it easier- for me. (Not to mention he sterilized his hands beforehand and he had gotten cuts earlier that day on his thumbs- so that hurt as well.)
I felt awful and consistently apologized. He kept telling me itâs ok and to not apologize- but looked me dead in the eyes and said âbaby, you canât pick at it anymore, ok? Or it wonât heal properly or very well.â
We donât talk consistently throughout a week, weâre on complicated and busy schedules, so after that it was- up to me. I wasnât given constant reminders, just occasional checkups, but itâs my own body and self suffering from the consequences of my actions- and I realize that and recognize that. That this is me. This is mine. Heâs concerned out of love because he loves me and wants me to be ok- for my own sake- not for his. He patched me up not because it was convenient for him but because it was better for me- he reminds me for my own sake-
He makes me want to take care of myself. Just for simply loving me. Realizing I may be someone worth loving and taking care of- for my OWN sake. Not his. Not anyone elseâs. But mine.
On top of that, his mom reads my poems. (My own mom never asks to read my poems.) and during a difficult time in recovery when I was venting about my mom through poetry, when I went to my boyfriends house she gave me a long âmom hug.â A genuine hug. I teared up, and was going to cry, because I canât remember the time my own mom gave me a genuine hug like that, because she just wanted to hug me or felt like I needed it. The kind of hug you can let last as long as you need it and feels like they genuinely want you-
I donât know. Iâm not used to it. But I love it.
Those nights all screamed âIâve got you.â To me. Until I can fully get myself, through ups and downs, of course Iâm independent and learning. But theyâve got me too. Theyâve got me.
His message to me today after venting about my own family a bit:












