Love doesn’t need to be found. It needs to be remembered

I suppose it wouldn’t be Valentine’s Day without a post about love, but this probably won’t be what you think it is.

I fell out of love many years ago. I don’t remember exactly why or when—it wasn’t a single event. It wasn’t even like I fell out of love with someone; I just sort of fell out of love. Period. I didn’t even recognize it at the time, but it began a long, slow descent into the darkest of places.

For far too long, I was consumed by bitterness, regret, envy, and something that resembled hate. My relationship with life was miserable, and I got to a place where I just didn’t care anymore. I checked out—drifting through days that felt hollow and disconnected.

It felt like I was being tortured from the inside—trapped in misery, unable to break free. Somehow, by some grace, I was brought to the brink and turned around. There were little signs, barely noticed at the time, calling me back to a home I couldn’t remember or name.

Somewhere along the way, my soul screamed out in agony: This is not the way it should be. Luckily there were people who entered my life who had something about them—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew I wanted. Reminders of who I needed to become, but I was too stubborn and too far gone to recognize it.

The call home persisted. In some ways, it persisted by pushing me closer to the edge. If I couldn’t be called back, then I’d be called to break. And break I did.

One cold December night, I stared up at the star-lit sky and something happened: an acknowledgment that I needed to let go of bitterness. And so it began—a journey of healing, deep soul-searching, and searching for truth.

I looked far and wide for answers, getting lost many times along the way—wandering down paths going in the wrong direction. Still, I persisted. One foot in front of the other, on an unnamed journey to some unknown destination.

I was fortunate that there were many signs along the way. People crossed my path who had this je ne sais quoi—an energy I couldn’t name but felt drawn to. It wasn’t until years later that I understood what it was: Love.

It took years more of work to get to the place where I would wink at myself as I walked past the mirror. It took months more before I could say, “I love myself.”

It wasn’t until today, on 2/14/25, that I realized something even deeper.

“I love who I am.”

Not just myself. Who I am. My whole being. My contradictions, my strengths, my flaws, my light, my darkness. All of it.

And suddenly, it was clear. Love wasn’t something I had to find. It wasn’t missing. It wasn’t a prize waiting at the end of a journey.

It was always here. I just had to open to it.

It became clear that the thing I was searching for wasn’t out there in the world. It was inside me, part of my birthright. Part of my soul’s purpose: to come to embody love.

I’ve come to believe that my true purpose is quite simply to “be in love with the world,” and today, for the first time, I can say I’m on that path.

Love was never missing. It was never something I had to chase, earn, or prove myself worthy of. It was always there—in the spaces between moments, in the people who crossed my path, in the reflections of myself I had been too blind to see.

For years, I asked the wrong question: Why don’t I feel loved?
But the real question was: Was I even open to receiving love in the first place?

Maybe you’ve been asking the wrong question too. Maybe love has been trying to reach you, but you’ve been too busy searching to notice. Maybe, just maybe, the love you’ve longed for has been there all along.

So instead of asking where love is, consider asking:

Instead of asking whether you are loved, shift to where love already exists in your life. It might not look like what you expected, but it’s there.

• Who checks in on you?
• Who listens when you speak?
• Who makes space for your existence, even in small ways?
• Who has given you warmth, even for a fleeting moment?

Love isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet—hidden in the spaces between moments.

Not all love feels like love at first. But you will know you are loved when:

• You feel safe enough to be fully yourself.
• You don’t have to prove your worth or earn affection.
• You are not afraid that love will be taken away.
• You feel wanted, not just needed.
• You are met with warmth, attention, and presence—not just obligation

Love is not just someone staying—it is someone choosing you, over and over, with joy.

This is the hardest question—because it asks you to reflect on whether love has been trying to reach you, but you’ve been too closed off to see it

• Have you built walls around your heart to protect yourself from disappointment?
• Have you dismissed certain types of love because they weren’t what you expected?
• Have you been searching for love outside, when perhaps it’s been waiting for you inside?

Maybe the journey isn’t just about finding love—but learning how to receive it.

Love isn’t always something you find—sometimes, it’s something you allow.

• What if, starting today, you opened your heart just 1% more?
• What if you decided to believe—just for a moment—that you are already loved?
• What if, instead of searching, you sat still and let love come to you?