Pondering a conversation I had with a friend recently. It resembles so many other conversations I have had throughout the years.
Especially with myself.
There is a book some of you may have read. It’s called “Women who love too much”.
I was reflecting on that. Asking myself: can we really love too much? Or is it that we love too little? That we love *ourselves* too little. That we leave ourselves out of the equation when handing out our heart.
So that we end up out of contact with our own needs and longings. And focussed on ‘the other’ who is, in a way, expected to provide that love and care that we cannot muster for ourselves.
And yes, I am very aware of socialisation processes and the persistent image of what it means to be a woman. Caring, warm, and in some cases self sacrificing.
I think none of us, women or men, should lean towards self sacrifice. There are men too who sacrifice their deepest desires in order to be seen as a ‘successful’ male. In the end we will feel resentful and embittered and, no matter how we try to disguise it, it will come out. In the form of physical illness and /or anger towards others.
If we can choose to express our love in a way that honours both others and ourselves, life may still be tough at times, but we will not have ‘loved too much’.
Art: my own. Acrylic on paper
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