What Love Taught Me

I used to think love was just about romance—the kind you see in movies, read in novels, hear in every heart-wrenching ballad on the radio. The fireworks. The butterflies. The late-night texts that make you smile. But life has a funny way of reshaping our understanding. What love has taught me is far deeper, and far more complicated, than anything I imagined when I was younger.

Love has been both my greatest teacher and my toughest test. It’s shown up in ways I didn’t expect and hid in places I almost missed. It’s revealed my strengths, exposed my flaws, and held a mirror up to parts of me I didn’t want to face. But through it all, it’s taught me lessons that no book, podcast, or advice column ever could.

Love taught me patience.

At first, I wanted love to be instant. To fall into place effortlessly, like the missing piece of a puzzle. But real love doesn’t work like that. It takes time. Time to grow. Time to trust. Time to heal from old wounds so you don’t bleed them onto someone new. Love taught me to breathe through the waiting. To give space, not just to others, but to myself. To understand that nothing worth keeping is ever rushed.

Love taught me that people love differently.

This one was a hard pill to swallow. I used to believe that love had to look one way—my way. But I learned that not everyone says “I love you” the same. Some people show it with actions, not words. Some offer loyalty, not poetry. Some express it in silence, in staying, in showing up when it counts. Love taught me to stop measuring affection with my ruler and start learning someone else's language.

Love taught me boundaries are not walls.

For a long time, I thought loving someone meant giving them everything—access to my time, my energy, my peace. But love without boundaries is not noble, it’s self-abandonment. Setting boundaries doesn’t mean you love someone less. It means you love yourself enough to protect your well-being. Love taught me that real connections flourish not when we lose ourselves in another person, but when we bring our full, healthy selves to the table.

Love taught me to let go.

There is no pain quite like holding onto someone who no longer wants to be held. I’ve had to learn the hard way that love, in its truest form, is not about possession. It’s not about keeping someone. It’s about seeing them clearly and accepting when it’s time to release them. Some love comes to teach us, not to stay with us. And that doesn’t make it less real. It just means its season has passed.

Love taught me forgiveness.

Not just for others, but for myself. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve loved too much, too fast. I’ve stayed too long, or left too soon. I’ve said things I didn’t mean and failed to say the things I should’ve. But love—true love—offers grace. It allows us to learn, to grow, to try again. It doesn’t mean forgetting. It means freeing yourself from the chains of guilt, and choosing compassion, even when it's hard.

Love taught me I’m still learning.

Even now, I don’t have it all figured out. Sometimes I still mess up. I still get afraid. I still question my worth when love feels distant. But love isn’t about perfection. It’s about effort. About waking up and choosing to show up, even when your heart is bruised. About trying to be better, not to earn love, but because love makes you want to be better.

Love taught me that it begins with me.

This might be the most important lesson of all. I used to search for love like it was something I had to find in another person. But the love I truly needed was the one I withheld from myself. The gentleness. The encouragement. The belief that I am enough, even when I’m alone. Once I started giving that to myself, love began to feel less like a desperate hunt and more like a quiet recognition.

Now, when I think of love, I don’t just think of candlelit dinners or sweet text messages. I think of the friends who held me during breakdowns. The family who stood by me when I pushed them away. The strangers who showed me unexpected kindness. The mentors who believed in me. The exes who taught me what I needed, and what I didn’t. The partners who revealed parts of my heart I didn’t know I had. And most importantly, the version of myself who finally learned how to hold her own heart with care.

Love is messy. It’s tender. It’s painful. It’s healing. It’s wild. It’s still teaching me things I didn’t even know I needed to learn.

And that’s the beauty of it.