Love Is?

Foreword: I am delighted to welcome Kim back to our blog as a guest writer. Kim is a longtime subscriber to Dissociative Writers and a writing-in-place facilitator. She has guest posted on Emotions Container and Forgive & Live, and she hosted her first workshop at Healing Together last year. In this intimate piece, Kim reflects on love, compassion, and her own growth. ~ Lyn


by Guest Blogger Kim E.

I was a bit concerned earlier today — it has turned out to be a pretty good day. Maybe things are stabilizing, or maybe I am actually seeing the results, the progress, from all the trauma work over the past 3 or so years?!? Optimistic, you say? Well, okay. I’m still at wait and see.

Listening to “Wake Me Up” by Avici — there is a line “Life’s a game made for everyone, and love is the pri_e.” I always used to believe or maybe hear this with a c as love is the price, but today I heard it as love is the prize, with a z! That hit me heavily. Well, of course!

I started to think about how people are supposed to be raised with love and attunement, and how living a full life includes love — experiencing giving and receiving love as part of the fabric of being alive. Right.

This was NOT my experience, though Dad said I was the most loved baby, held all the time (by the nurses!). In my gut I feel this lie writhing in the darkness of the fathomless Black Whole. No, love was not an essential, regular, frequent, or even occasional experience when I was a child. The word love was used by many, to describe behaviors or acts, that confusingly sometimes brought pain and sometimes kindness or warmth. Given these inconsistencies and many betrayals, I never really learned what love meant or what it might feel like.

What is Love?

I don’t really understand what love is, never really have.

The mother part knows what it is that she feels, has always felt toward Jake, our son. It is a deep, aching, tenderness. Yes, at times warm, and at other times so painful — the knowledge that he must learn for himself all the things we wish we could transplant into his mind, but cannot. It is infinitely deep, a holding space that will always be there welcoming him, holding his spirit, whenever he has need for it, even when we are not together. It is transcendent, and beyond time and space. Is that love?

Maybe there are different kinds of love?

At a seminar I attended, the speaker led a compassion meditation. We were asked to consider someone we love. I was instantly flummoxed — who do I love? Yes, I thought of my son, and also of my partner, Terry. I held them both in my mind. But then the speaker asked us to notice the warmth inside, and I could not feel any. Did that mean I don’t really love them? The speaker then moved on to the compassion piece — send them compassion — may they be free from suffering, may they experience joy and peace. UGH! NO! Am I supposed to feel good about this? Instead of any warmth and positive sensations, all of a sudden, I felt pain coursing through my chest!

Reflection

Oh, my child, life will be full of so much shit that you will have to deal with and you’ve already had so much, and the path to healing is long and difficult. I’m so sorry. I do wish that you would have little suffering and that you will have joy and peace, but I know the cost of these things.

And my partner, well, I do wish you these things, yet you have chosen life with me, so in ways I cannot explain, I know that your suffering, joy, and peace are intimately intertwined with mine. Again, I’m sorry! I am doing my best!

Wow! That was definitely not what I believe the speaker was intending. But I suppose it was helpful after all. It did end with a bit of a turn toward self compassion. And as I tried to hold compassion for myself, I silently repeated these phrases:

May I live with ease.

May I be like the water.

Be Like Water

Yes. Like a body of water. Absorbing, accepting elements, suspended or compounded — dissolved, the excess crystalizing or sedimenting and eventually making its way to the bottom. New elements concentrated in one area at first gradually becoming absorbed and dissolved — swirled, mixed into the rest to become homogeneous throughout. The surface accepting drops that ripple the surface that then smoothes out once more. Shifting to fill any shape, flowing or still, appearing like glass yet soft and supple. Yes, the water. Steady, solid at times, malleable at others, flowing or still. Simple yet complex. Steady, deep … sustaining.


Memoir 101 Open Spot

A spot has opened up in our weekly 6-week Memoir 101 for Dissociative Writers class beginning on October 7th. If you are interested in participating, learn more about it by clicking here, or email Lyn by clicking here.

Summer Break

Although Lyn has taken a summer break from writing this blog, the writers in Dissociative Writers are continuing to meet regularly in Draft & Discuss, Writing-in-Place, and Focused Writing workshops. We are accepting submissions to our 2025 anthology from DW subscribers until mid-September. We are reviewing several proposals for special events this coming year. And we’re creating community on Heartbeat, not only through our writing workshops, but also our Art Gallery and Pet Pal channels. To subscribe to Dissociative Writers, please go to our website by clicking here.


🕊️

Grief can be the garden of compassion.

If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom.

~ Rumi

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