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If you are old-fashioned just keep reading, the whole written piece is waiting for you after this very thin line called the ability to focus. Lucky bastard, you are the pillar of my field.
Hey there, friend.
How have you been?
Are you in love right now?
Is there someone special on your mind?
Is there someone you can feel yourself with?
Or is there someone new?
Someone you hope you could be yourself with?
I think, and I might be mistaken, but my theory still needs a counter-argument.
I think… groundbreaking stuff here, eh? Wait for it.
Everyone wants love. There, I said it.
I’m saying this because I didn’t think that was the case.
I thought people wanted many different things.
But now, in the wisdom of my 30s, I came to the conclusion that in one form or the other, everyone needs love.
Just think about it.
Songs are about love.
Movies are about love.
Books.
Thoughts.
Gestures.
Acts.
You know, actions.
In the end, love is behind everything.
Maybe it’s love towards someone.
Maybe it’s love towards what you do.
Maybe it’s love towards yourself.
Or maybe it’s a complete lack of love—
but a complete lack of love presupposes you know love to begin with.
So prove me wrong: love is all we are.
Very new age of me.
Anyway.
I have been thinking about love all my life now.
This doesn’t make me an expert, but it definitely makes me a very eager amateur.
You know, I often think about what love is.
How to get it.
And I look at people who have found love in my life, and I often wonder: how does that work?
How did they manage?
Was it luck?
Was it something else?
What are the ingredients of a love that lasts?
Because that’s the thing.
You don’t only want love.
You want a love that lasts.
Something that you can count on.
Something that doesn’t end.
Well… that… it’s a mystery, isn’t it?
It still is.
I’m not going to give you the answer to this.
Maybe in a future episode.
But not in this one.
No.
I think I’ll never give you the answer to that, because there’s no answer to that.
Things end.
Things transform.
And we have no control over that—
aside from how… well… we only have control on… what?
Nah.
We just, you know, we just don’t have control over anything.
We perhaps have a little bit of control on what we do.
That’s it.
I was listening to an episode I made and never published.
Actually, this was just right before my burnout.
It was November or December.
Yeah. 2024.
2024 was just about to happen and I didn’t know it.
I made this entire episode about love, and back then I thought—
and probably were in love with someone.
I definitely had feelings for them.
And I remember making this episode just because I wanted to send out my love somewhere.
I just wanted, you know, I just wanted for it to be somewhere because I could no longer have it only in me.
Unrequited—
not really unrequited, but suspended love,
I think that was it.
And it’s so interesting to me because now, one year after that happened—
fast forward—
well, around March,
it was no longer suspended.
It was, you know, reciprocated.
And it had been—
it was… it was… it was so lovely at first.
It was… it felt like it was everything I thought it was going to be.
And then it wasn’t.
And then it ended.
And then some other stuff happened and then some other stuff happened and then some stuff ended as well.
It’s a good episode, eh?
I’m glad you’re listening to this.
The point of this is that I think many of us are stuck in the loop of thinking that what they feel for someone is dependent on the other person—
on the person that is at the end of our feelings.
“I love you because you are…”
I don’t know—A, B and C.
Because you’re brave.
Because you’re kind.
Because you’re handsome.
Because you’re smart.
Whatever.
Because you make me laugh.
I don’t know.
You do you.
But now…
I figured something that might not be groundbreaking,
but who said I should always be groundbreaking?
If my MO is only writing to share, then I’m sharing.
You do of this whatever you please.
Now I think that the love we feel for other people is only dependent on us.
It is only dependent on what we see and what we feel.
Most of all, what we see in other people—
but the things we see in other people are the things we value within ourselves.
So: kindness, intelligence, courage, humor.
We love what we recognize.
We love what we crave.
We love what we think we lack.
And now—
it’s not like I’ve given up on love.
I think love is a very powerful thing and I think it’s everywhere.
I surely have given up on the idea of a partner.
I think my focus has been misplaced for quite a long time.
I’ve been told something for years.
And it irked me.
It made me, you know… it just rubbed me the wrong way.
Like, I wish people would have stopped saying that to me.
Several things, really.
Okay, so first of all:
“You need to learn to be alone.”
Oh fuck you.
Come on.
“I need to learn to be alone”?
What a pretentious fucking thing to say.
Just because I crave being with someone, that doesn’t mean that I cannot be alone—
that I don’t know how to be alone.
Actually, this is about to get very personal.
I didn’t know it, but it’s happening.
So whenever someone told me,
“Oh, you know, but it’s good that you don’t have someone because like this you can learn how to be by yourself,”
bitch, I’ve been by myself my whole fucking life.
It’s been only me.
I think you can learn to be by yourself regardless of whether or not you have a partner.
First of all.
Second of all, loneliness is not something that needs to be learned.
It’s something that needs to be accepted—radically.
We’re all alone.
You can have the best partner on the planet,
you can have a big family—
you are still by yourself.
You are the only person you can count on at the core.
Then of course you have a net of people—
the people that love you, the people that trust you, then you trust them—your friends, your family, whatever.
But at the core, without you, there would be nothing else.
And just because someone wants a partner, that doesn’t mean they can’t be alone.
Oh my god, stop saying that to people.
Stop saying that to people.
It’s not a matter of learning.
Of course there are people who stay with other people to avoid loneliness,
and I know that’s what people meant when they told me that.
But a love that’s there just to avoid being lonely—
that’s not the love I’m talking about.
I got offended when people told me “you have to learn how to be alone,”
because I enjoy being by myself.
I love being by myself.
There’s nothing better than being by yourself when you feel like it.
But one thing is wanting to be by yourself,
and another thing is desiring a loving relationship.
Second thing that I’ve been told, that I fucking hated, was:
“When you’re not with someone, you can learn how to love yourself.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
So when I’m with someone, I will stop loving myself?
I can only love myself—
that is a very dangerous premise.
Be very careful about the things you tell your friends in moments of need.
Because…
being with someone or being alone shouldn’t change the way you love yourself.
It’s not situation-based.
You should love yourself. Full stop.
And even then, what the fuck does that mean, “to love yourself”?
Is there a right way to love yourself?
Nah.
We’re all different.
Self-care and self-love—
it’s an ever-changing concept that changes as you change,
improves as you improve,
and it shifts from one thing to the other.
So why the fuck should I only be learning how to love myself while I’m not with someone?
What is it?
Do I have a numbered amount of love that I can give around?
If I give it to others, I cannot give it to myself?
I’ve always found that pretty stupid—like, pretty, pretty stupid, really.
I can love me and I can love my friends and I can love my family and my partner all the same.
Actually, the more you love, the more love you’re able to give.
So if you’ve been recently told that being alone is a good moment,
a good opportunity to learn how to be by yourself and that before you love someone else you need to learn how to love yourself—
forget it.
Reframe it.
People who told you probably had good intentions.
I hope.
It is not that you need to learn how to be by yourself.
But you have to accept that sometimes your own company—
that’s all you’re going to get.
It is not about learning how to be by yourself—
it is about (and the two points connect):
it is about learning how to enjoy your own company
and to get accustomed to what a wonderful person you are,
even when there’s no one watching.
Self-love—
it’s something extremely personal.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you how that looks like.
The love you have for yourself is your own business.
Own it.
I think that also kinda rubbed me the wrong way when they said it to me,
because it is true that in my life I had the tendency to settle for people who were not right for me.
And by doing that, I made myself small.
But it’s not because I loved myself less or because I didn’t know how to be alone.
It is because at my core,
I hoped someone could love me the same way I love me.
My mistake there was not “not loving myself enough” or “not being able to be by myself.”
My only mistake was not listening to myself.
So that’s the thing.
That’s the thing.
It’s not about not loving yourself.
It’s about listening to yourself.
Learn how to listen to your intuition.
And if someone doesn’t feel right,
there’s no explanation needed.
You are free to leave whenever you want to.
Or you’re free to stay if that feels right.
I don’t know…
to me, when someone tells you:
“Oh, so now you have the possibility to learn how to be by yourself and learn how to love yourself,”
it feels like punishment.
It feels like I’m forced into a situation because I have to learn something.
Like—yeah—a punishment.
That is an ugly way to frame something as wonderful as spending time by yourself.
It doesn’t really show the beauty of being completely on your own.
And it’s pretty wonderful.
And again, the two things can exist at the same time.
You can love being by yourself and still desire a relationship that fits who you are,
and to find someone else who can love you the way you love you—
so that you can love them the way you can love.
Because only you can love people the way you can love people.
If you are feeling lonely—
if being alone, or not having someone to love, feels like a punishment—
instead of forcing yourself to love yourself so that the right person can come along
(because that’s another very dangerous premise—
“As long as you don’t love yourself right, the right person won’t appear”)
what the fuck is that about?
I’ve been loved right many, many times,
even if I wasn’t as self-aware and introspective as I am right now.
Love is always around.
That’s not the point.
When it comes, it comes. When it doesn’t, it doesn’t. But it’s always around.
The point is that if it feels like a punishment to be by yourself, instead of trying your best to love yourself so that the other person magically appears, try and look at yourself with kindness. Look at yourself with empathy.
Acknowledge your sadness.
Acknowledge your limits.
Acknowledge the fact that:
“Yes, I can be by myself. Yes, I like being by myself and deciding how to spend time on my own, being the queen of my space and the queen of my life. But… wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to hold, and someone who can hold me? Someone to share my life with?”
There’s actually this lovely Italian song by an indie group. At a certain point, it says—well, it’s a love song—and it says:
“It’s not that I didn’t know how to be by myself. It’s that my solitude was a world of wonder, and I wanted you to be part of it.”
Ah man. They’re really good. But that’s the point. That’s the point.
It is okay to feel like you crave something different, even if you are a fucking pro at being by yourself.
It is okay to crave human contact and connection—meaningful conversation, words of appreciation, acts of kindness, whatever your love language is.
It’s okay to crave it if you’re not getting it the second you want it. That doesn’t make you less able.
So if you feel like something is lacking, if you feel like there’s something you desire, the best thing you can do is look at yourself with kindness.
Look at yourself with empathy.
Acknowledge that your desires are valid, that you deserve to be with someone who can love you right, who can love you in the way you know you can be loved.
And then—I think what really changed it for me is not only the inner work. It’s bringing that love outside. Bring it into your life, into the way you do things, into the way you treat your friends and your family and everyone around you.
Regardless of the direction, regardless of the space that is still waiting to be occupied by the people who will arrive—make it ready for them. So that when they get there (because they will get there), it’s already going to be a loving space.
Make the circumstances right by sharing all the love you have without any kind of limit.
All the love you feel has a place to go, and that place is everywhere.
Even if you’re feeling lonely.
Even if you think your friends think you can’t love yourself right.
Even if your self-esteem is subpar.
Even if you have sad thoughts about yourself sometimes.
Even if you pity yourself.
Even if you find yourself ugly—whatever.
The love you feel—let it come out.
Let it occupy space.
That is guaranteed to make you feel better.
And feeling better—that’s the whole point.
And then what happens?
Well, nothing cinematic, really.
No perfect man with the perfect shoes—(I don’t know why I always look at shoes; if the shoes are not right, the guy is not right, it’s just something about it!)—no perfect insert-perfect-characteristic will magically appear.
Or maybe he will.
But I think what happens at first is that the environment around you suddenly… acquires meaning.
You start noticing love around you in a different way, as if you were part of it. As if you belonged.
Not as if you were something outside of that, but as if you belonged to the environment you’re in.
The love you feel around you is also the love you send out.
You’re a part of everything else.
So what happens after that is that you’ll start to feel love in a variety of forms you perhaps weren’t expecting.
A big thing for me is that things are given to me for free—like, I need something and it magically arrives at my doorstep.
It can be small things, it can be big things—but they arrive.
Strangers are kind to you.
Buses are empty so you can sit.
Food tastes very, very good.
The weather is perfect.
Dogs greet you if you’re a dog person.
Cats acknowledge you if you’re a cat person.
The right music finds you.
Random movies turn out to be absolute masterpieces.
Your clothes feel right.
And you end up looking at yourself and thinking:
“Hm. Yeah. I recognize myself. I am feeling okay.”
And even if the right person with the right characteristics doesn’t appear out of the blue, in the end it’s not that it matters less—but it becomes less and less urgent. Because there’s so much going on that the only thing you can think is:
“It’s so lovely here.
It will be great.
I’ll share that with you.”
I’ll talk to you next time,
Gaia
