Let Go of “Being Loved,” and You Will be Free

During my adolescence, there was a period when I was constantly torn about whether I was truly loved

It was around the age of ten when I moved back to live with my parents after spending nine years with my grandparents.

Everything felt unfamiliar, yet somehow it also felt like it shouldn’t have been.

I tried hard to fit into this “home,” and my parents — whom I had barely lived with for nine years — often told me they loved me.

They told me I was born with a severe lung disease, how my mother fought relentlessly to save me, how my father shouldered the medical bills, and how they carried my frail body to my grandparents’ home, entrusting them to take care of me.

Every story ended with the same question: “Do you remember?”

I must have looked blank each time — the events happened before I turned two; of course, I remembered nothing. And once I was old enough to remember, there were hardly any memories worth retelling.

Throughout childhood, my understanding of the word “love” was blurry and confused

People say love is supposed to feel warm and blissful, yet back then, it felt more like a contradictory riddle.

Though my parents repeatedly told me they loved me, what I felt from them was never warmth — only criticism and emotional volatility.

What I could feel was how much they loved my older brother. He grew up by their side; when my mother looked at him, her eyes softened with a glow I never received.

Fortunately, my grandparents gave me enough love and gentleness, even though they never said it aloud.

As I tried to understand love, I often wondered: Do people who claim to love you really love you? Should love be measured by words or by actions?

As I grew older, I learned that love is expressed through actions, and those who proclaim it aren’t necessarily the ones who truly feel it.

Words can be a disguise — a colorful sugar coating. Only when you peel it away do you see what’s inside.

So I became skilled at discerning the true weight of love behind what people say.

In truth, I never felt deprived of love.

Even now, I simply feel a quiet regret for not having experienced parental love — not pity, just the sense of missing a chapter in life.

Because these were not things I could control, there was no point getting entangled in them.

I once thought this was a simple truth, something most people eventually understood. Turns out, not many do.

My friend’s mother, a woman in her sixties, still agonizes over whether her own parents loved her.

In her childhood, her parents cared more about whether she could handle extra chores, while her younger siblings were exempt.

Even though she became successful in both work and life, she still believes her parents loved her siblings more. So even past fifty, she still longs for a bit more love from them.

My friend, on the other hand, is preoccupied with whether her boyfriend loves her.

She constantly compares herself with his exes, trying to figure out whether he loves her more.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be loved — but you must not cling to it.

Being wrapped in love is undeniably intoxicating.

But we often forget: love is also a form of self-fulfillment for the one who gives it. They feel happy while loving you — just as you feel happy being loved.

The initiative in love always lies with the one who gives. And if one day they withdraw it, those who are addicted to being loved will suffer deeply.

That’s why I often tell myself: love is fluid.

Take my parents — I believe their declarations of love were sincere, and so were their criticisms.

Love is never static.

It is a river running through the desert — sometimes abundant, sometimes dry.

Only when we know how to receive and how to give can love flow naturally.

When we accept both the arrival and the fading of love, we stop hurting so much.

Being loved is wonderful, but not being loved is also something we can live with.

If you turn the desire to be loved into an obsession, you will imprison yourself for life.

The most reliable form of love is always the one you cultivate within.

Loving yourself is also a form of being loved.

And when you cherish your own heart, you will never fall into despair.