When love isn’t about changing them

Maria stood in her kitchen staring at the socks on the floor again.

Not a huge thing. Just socks.

But in her chest, the familiar tightness returned – that quiet voice saying: “Why am I the only one who sees this? Why am I always the one picking things up? Doesn’t he care?”

It wasn’t really about the socks. It was about the story she told herself every time she saw them.

A story about being unseen.

A story about carrying too much.

A story about love only flowing when things looked a certain way.

We talk so much about unconditional love – especially as parents. We don’t stop loving our children because they leave toys everywhere or forget to brush their teeth or have tantrums in the supermarket.

We love who they are, not what they do.

Yet somewhere along the way, with partners, we forget. We trade unconditional love for silent score-keeping. And we wait – for the sock to be picked up.

For the dishwasher to be loaded.

For the perfect sentence.

For someone else to behave in a way that makes us feel safe, seen, appreciated.

But here’s the gentle truth: Unconditional love is not about what they do. It’s about who we choose to be. Love is a feeling – and feelings come from our thoughts.

When Maria saw socks on the floor, she could think: He doesn’t respect me. And feel resentment.

Or she could think: He simply doesn’t see this the way I do.

He never learned this.

It’s not personal.

And feel… spaciousness. Compassion. Love.

Loving doesn’t mean we ignore our needs. It means we stop making someone’s imperfect humanity mean we are unworthy or unloved. And from that softness, real conversations can happen. Like:

“I know you don’t leave things out to annoy me, and I love that you feel relaxed at home. And it’s also really important for my nervous system that our home feels tidy. Can we create a system together? And how would you like me to remind you, in a way that feels kind for both of us?”

Unconditional love isn’t “I love you no matter what and I’ll swallow my feelings.”

It’s:

I love you for who you are.

I understand you’re human.

And I can express my needs without needing to make you wrong.

The love we offer from this place isn’t a gift to them –

It’s a gift to us.

A calmer nervous system.

A softer heart.

A relationship built on reality, not expectation.

Sometimes the deepest spiritual work isn’t meditation, or crystals, or journaling. Sometimes it’s simply choosing love when resentment feels easier.

Reflect & journal

1. Where in my relationship do I attach love to someone’s behaviour instead of who they are?
2. What story am I telling myself when I feel frustrated – and is it truly the only story?
3. How would I express this need if I spoke from love, not resentment or fear?

Photo by Emma Bauso