Why love scares me – to me love is a vision of hell
To many the feeling and emotion of love is one of warmth, acceptance and being understood. To me this word means a lot of these things however it doesn’t feel anything. Let me elaborate; imagine sitting in front of a wood fire and its snowing outside, the whole room is enveloped in the golden glow of the fire. You put your hands up to the fire to feel its warm embrace; something is missing you cannot feel anything. The warmth isn’t there, you put your hand further near the fire still nothing. You do feel something though, you feel pain, you can feel the pain of burning however you can’t feel the warmth of the fire.
This is my story; I have been for ever; well ever since I can remember seeking out the flame of love. I was touched by its gentle glow when I was a very young child it would I believe have come from my mum and definitely my dad as I have been told. Sometimes the same feeling returns to me when I am being embraced by my own children, it is however a fleeting feeling, a split second before I start feeling the burning sensation within me, their love which is so pure and unconditional starts feeling like it is tainted by the hottest of hell fires, the feeling it will sear through me if I continuing enjoying their embrace.
The burning pain is so tense I have to push away who ever is trying to offer me this warmth, within me I am screaming why are you doing this? You are hurting this person, you know how that feels, you know how it feels to be rejected, I don’t care she shouts, the child within me, she only seeks her own satisfaction. She wont allow me to feel love as an adult. For my inner child the love I seek isn’t from these people, these people I call my children, my husband she wants this love from my mum. She hangs on for those precious little words to be heard by her innocent years. She doesn’t want to be seen as a wife, as lover as as mother. She wants to be seen as a child, who never had this love. To her the only love which matters to her is her mothers love. A love which she was denied and punished for asking to receive.
Just a few days ago I was sharing my emotions and my story in my own counselling session. I went through all the episodes of my book of life, reading in a very matter of fact way, describing all the things I had gone through in a very clinical manner. I was so unaware of the impact my words and my sharing will have on the listener. My counsellor reached out to me and wanted to hug me, I recoiled in horror, how can she do this? What makes her think I am someone who needs to be hugged? What makes my story so different from the may hundreds she has already heard? I wasn’t taking it and I asked her outright “do you feel sorry for me?” I knew full well what I was doing. I was hurting her, I wanted her to feel angry at me, I wanted her to say “you don’t deserve kindness”. I wanted her to not love me, not show me this vision of hell where I am not getting warm I am getting burnt. To me this was the time to really seek out what is stopping me from receiving and accepting love, I have written the beginning part of this resistance and in my follow up writings I know I will delve deeper into this.
Do you ever feel you cannot be loved? What does love mean to you? Have my words made you think about love differently? Does loving and being loved come easily to you? Please share your views and comments with me.
Thank you for reading