The Psalmist Brandy asked, “Have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry?” And to that, my answer is yes. Every time I have fallen in love, it has been with someone whose goal seemed to be my tears. If I wasn’t crying, they weren't satisfied. Or at least that’s what I perceived. I think for me it was a bit of loving through hardship.

I was choosing the ones who needed mothering. That needed nurturing. The ones that I drew in with my light, whose intentions were not to make it shine brighter, but to snuff it out. I think one of my gifts is my ability to see the potential in people. It might also be a curse, depending on how it is wielded.

I’ve spent the last two years mostly single. I’ve not wholly invested in anyone new, cause I knew I still had work to do. In 2024, I remember lying on the ground and crying to GOD about this place of abundance that I had found. I realized that I had to maintain it. I had to keep house. So, I did.

A little Libra energy

I started doing the work of loving myself. It requires balance. Matthew 22:39 says, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” I don’t read it as putting yourself first as much as making sure you can breathe before you help others. The airplane mask metaphor is a cliche for a reason. How can we both survive if neither of us can breathe? Giving sacrificially is okay from time to time. It’s a blessing for our neighbor and for us. But giving sacrificially cannot be the lifestyle. It isn’t sustainable.

I’m sure you can find scripture that seemingly says the opposite. Jesus taught that following Him requires self-denial, saying, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." ( Luke 9:23) I think that it could mean self-discipline and not self-sacrifice. Holding your boundaries even with yourself. I also think it means consistency. A little bit every day, rather than constant sprinting. Slow and steady as the tortoise said.

What required balancing was the energy I put into myself and the energy I put into others. I said that I wanted to write more, but that didn’t necessarily mean it needed to be my 9-to-5. However, to survive, your dream must stay alive, so I sought balance. The give and take. I write some blogs and strategies for the fuzz, and I write poems, love stories, and movie critiques for myself. Finding balance means investing in self, but also in others.

Self-love can look like

Often, we talk about self-care and self-love by looking at acts like taking care of our skin and physical appearance. Yes. Those things matter. But I also have learned it means trusting your intuition about people, places, experiences, and things. I have a lot of horrible stories as evidence of my inability to love and trust myself. However, I’m learning. My gut isn’t lying to me. My intuition is trustworthy, and as I learn those things, my choices look different.
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I also think some of it is speaking candidly about where I struggle and accepting that there are going to be days when I do have to work harder to get to the same level as others. Hashimoto’s and ADHD have been those places of struggle for some years for me. Even as I sit writing this, I’m not sure that I’m completely in touch with reality. But I build systems to support my forward momentum. I have spent the last 90 days writing and editing consistently, and that is self-love to me.

I am learning what it means to love your neighbor as yourself. Or rather to love your neighbor WHILE you love yourself. I can’t consider what you need above what I need. I used to do that a lot. Not holding boundaries for other people’s feelings. letting people call me crazy when I speak up for myself. All of them are examples of ways that I failed to love myself. But learning to hold people accountable. making my boundaries clear with people and holding them so they aren’t crossed. Not calling people who have harmed me “Friend”. All of those are great starting points.

I’m not an expert at love by any means. I am learning every day. I also think accepting my challenges and building in ways that work for me is part of loving myself.

You hear jungle, they hear zoo
They hear bee, you hear yellow jacket
They hear paradise, you hear home.

If the message isn’t for you,
you will know based on blue’s clues.

They don’t have eyes to see or ears to hear,
so they try to make yours disappear,
but my culture is the cipher,
and lucky for me a have so many to choose from.

My game is more fun.

Random aside. I like word association games and puzzles. those are fun for me.
For example:
Bender =/= Robot. I didn’t watch Futurama, that not my reference point.
Bender = Element bender ( Air, Earth, Water, Fire)= Avatar = Avatar = Indigenous and Blue.
Bender = Spoonbender = flexible mindset

the need to give and take.

The most basic of loves.

Even trees and mushrooms do this naturally.

As humans, we need each other.

Simple but true,

Storge is just one way I say

I love you.

Philia is the Greek word for friendship—

brotherly love.

My favorite song by K-Ci & JoJo says,

“Close to me, you’re like my brother.”

You’re reliable, genuine,

my companion and my friend.

Of all the ways I love you,

Philia is number two.

Ludus is Latin.

It bucks all the trends—

it’s about choosing playfulness in love to begin.

Often it means non-monogamy,

but Ludus, to me, is jealousy-free.

It’s cuddles in bed,

friendship in motion,

inside jokes that cause a commotion,

giggling together like besties do.

Ludus is the third way I love you.

Pragma is Greek for the long game—

the business exchange.

This kind of love puts the dishes away,

pays the bills, folds the clothes,

and brings you tissue for your nose.

It makes space for romance to ebb and flow.

Pragma is fourth

because it couldn’t be missed—

it’s how I show you

the love I feel exists.

Philautia is next—

the love that helps me heal.

Self-love.

It used to confuse me,

but now it feels real.

The more I love me,

the better I love you.

As I fill my cup,

I fill yours too.

It holds up a mirror, reveals all my sins,

softens my heart, and lets you come in.

Philautia is for me to do,

but it’s the fifth way I love you.

Eros is Greek for the love that we seek—

the fire.

The passion.

The touching.

The glances.

The kissing.

I have a deep and feral Eros love—

it seeks you through shame and doubt.

It loves you from the inside out.

It kisses you,

wants to be close to you,

desires the intimacy of being one.

That’s the sixth way that I love you.

Agape is Greek for God’s kind of love—

the even when I don’t like you love.

Agape is our breath.

It’s love in action.

It’s our very existence.

It’s compassion.

Love without condition,

simply because we draw breath.

Love beyond the grave—

nothing can separate.

Agape is empathy,

because I’ve been there too.

It’s how I orient my heart to truth.

The seventh way I love you—

love made perfect in the number seven—

a little piece of heaven.

I let down my hair,
my body relaxed,
and I dived into my dinner—
it smacked.

We laughed,
talked about our days.
I watched your lips,
my skin ablaze.
With the heat rising,
and my longing gaze,
you suggested dessert
as the next phase.

We grabbed the vanilla gelato
and a single spoon.
You teased me—
said you wouldn’t share,
but buckled under my intense stare.

You kissed my cheek,
scooped the gelato,
fed me,
looked in my eyes,
and said,
“I have a surprise.”

You disappeared into the back—
and when you returned,
you had more snacks.
More things to taste
were in my face—
and you knew
that I would make haste.

You took the spoon
and added to the sensations
I was feeling for you—
an ice cream reward
as you explored
the depths of the tunnel
surrounded by my vocal cords.

With each new depth,
I held my breath
and looked you in your eyes.
Then you’d offer more gelato
as a thank you for how hard I tried.

I wouldn’t say no,
but I knew now—
the rules of our little game.
The more that you felt pleasure,
the more I felt the same.

Your hands in my hair,
the deepest kiss—
you moved the spoon across my lips,
then took a taste
and kissed my face,
before plunging into my secret place.

You talked me through
what I should do
with that gelato on the spoon—
on my neck,
then on my breast.

From cold to heat,
I can attest,
it made me want you even more—
to find what depths
we could explore.

Then the volcanoes did erupt.

We washed the dishes
and cleaned the cups.
After the end,
you offered me ice cream again.

But I said no—
because I know
that dessert should not run the show.

But a part of me
still wanted to explore,
with you and gelato,
with an open door.

To go back to the couch that night,
When everything felt good, felt right.

To be back,
lying in your arms—
to be devoured,
to sound alarms—
of deep pleasure
and sensation,

A religious convert—
willing and alert—
to worship with
my favorite dessert.

In the way you withheld and called it protection.
In the way you claimed me without showing up for me.
In the way you made my boundaries feel like betrayal.

You weren’t a new chapter.
You were an echo.
And I’ve stopped trying to build homes
in places that only ever offered rooms to rent.

I release you
not because I hate you,
But because I finally remembered
who I am without you.

Buy For You I will

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You had a daughter the same age as me. You exploited my vulnerability and trust in you and you treated me as a toy to use.

Fifteen—watching Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen with an older white man next to me,
holding my hand and telling me,
“I’m the best girlfriend.”

You’d tell me about work, and I’d tell you about school. Then you’d violate my innocence
with a number of tools.
And when I finally woke up

and stopped playing the fool,
you rewrote the story so we could be cool.

“Best girlfriend,” you’d say, knowing the truth.
I was just a child you wanted to rule.
You said it again and again ’til I repeated it back, to convince me I wasn’t under attack.

You’d hit me up in that slow Southern drawl,
say you were thinking about me—thought you should call. You’d find me on Facebook and LinkedIn to say,
“You were the best girlfriend back in the day.”
I kept quiet, it’s true.
I was embarrassed to say
I couldn’t read men
or the evil displayed.

I repeated the pattern over and over again, just wanting to be
a good girlfriend.

I’m finally free. I’ve grown up.

I understand now—that wasn’t love. Grooming and abuse is the legacy you left. And the cycle I’ve broken—
I’m free to begin again.

I no longer flinch at kisses or feel afraid of touch.
I no longer clench up when he shows me love.

Your grooming has ended. The impacts, they fade.
I hope that you
soon follow them to the grave.

It took 3 months alone to break the cycle… or did it?
I don’t even know if I can apply what I have learned yet.

I don’t want to be Taylor Swift.
and have the same relationship
13 times before I understand
The love of my life is me, not a man.

So, I’ve been focused on nurturing myself more,
But eventually I will have to open the door.
I’ll have to let someone in,
Hoping that I don’t commit the same sin.

Abandoning myself so that I don’t hurt their feelings
running in fear so I’m not hurt again.

I don’t want to abandon myself or my dreams.
I have been walking with bare feet next to rivers and streams
I think I need a new vehicle to get from point A to point B
I know that I need endurance so that I can get to the sea

T here are parts of me that are tired already.
But I will stay that course, in a car, on a bike, on a boat, on a horse.
I will make it there, of course.

Yo sé que es muy duro pasar el Niágara en bicicleta
Pero es mejor que hacerlo a pie.
Necesito ayuda con esa maleta.
¿Qué dices tu, Atleta?

I’m going to go build a home without a beast inside.
Beauty is still alive, and she is going to thrive.

Possibilities are all around me.
Now, God is baking me a cake.
And it will be so sweet, soft, fluffy, and perfectly iced.
Topped with the fruit of my choice, as well as
sugar, spice, and everything nice.

I love you
Because you are beautiful
That is reason enough