Big Fears, Small Love

My phone rang at midnight.

I picked up after I stepped outside of my room; my roommate was already asleep.

I left campus at 12:45 in the morning and arrived at his broken-down car just outside of Baltimore at 1:30 in the morning. We got back to campus at 2:15 in the morning; I had class at 9:40 in the morning.

Don’t you get tired of doing things he’d never do for you?

I argue with myself, “How do you know he wouldn’t do that for me?”

I stayed behind after his random Friday night party had ended to help him do the dishes and clean up the room. He left my twenty-first birthday party after about fifteen minutes to go out with his roommate’s friends that he never met; he didn’t give me a heads up but just left.

I couldn’t leave him on the side of the road; what kind of friend would I be?

It’s okay that he wouldn’t do it for me. I’m used to it. I don’t mean to come across as a pick-me. I just mean that I love really deeply, and I have come to know that not everyone does.

Do you think maybe it’s just that people don’t love you that deeply?

“Why, yes. That’s actually my greatest fear. Thanks for bringing that up right now.”

My name, Amanda, means worthy of love. I’m terrified my name is a misnomer.

I see myself as a lover, only sometimes a fighter. I feel as though I have an immense capacity for love. I love others so deeply; when I love, it is with my whole heart. This has skewed the scales of my loving and being loved. Fundamentally, I’m afraid I’ll never be loved as much as I love.

I’m proud of how much I love, but I’m not proud of how much my fear consumes me. My fear that one day everyone will wake up and grow tired of me; that one day I will be certain that I am unloved and be right.

How much does this allegedly consuming fear define you?

“I guess it depends on the perspective from which I look at myself.”

When I look at myself through the lens of fear, it is like looking at a funhouse mirror. Sure, it is a reflection of me, but my warped perspective zooms in on my insecurities.

They say you are the average of the five people you are closest to. I don’t know if this entirely sums up who you are as a person. But, I do know that they do not say you are the average of the girls from your high school friend group who wouldn’t save you a seat at lunch or the boys who wouldn’t reciprocate your answering their midnight call for help.

Why would you base your worthiness for love on those who do not reciprocate your deep love rather than the ones who do? Why focus on those who take advantage of your love rather than those who appreciate it?

“I- I don’t know.”

My phone rang at midnight.

I texted Iain just before midnight. I asked if he was still awake and willing to call me. Within the minute, Iain called. I didn’t ask him to come pick me up, but he asked me if I needed him to. He was willing to make a forty-five minute drive without even being asked.

I hadn’t even known Iain for a year at this point.

How can you think that you are unlovable when you think of Iain?

I argue with myself, “How do you know he wouldn’t do that for everyone? He’s just a nice guy.”

You just love to play the what-if, hypothetically speaking game, don’t you? Can’t you just accept that he actually did do that for you?

“Hypothetically, yes.”

Have you read or seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Well, in it, Mr. Anderson, the main character’s English teacher, tells him, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” This line has always captivated me.

Iain is so good to me. He has been nothing but supportive since the very first day.

So why can’t I accept that he has, and does, and will continue to love me? Well, my failure to accept his unwavering love is rooted in the fact that I don’t think I deserve it.

I don’t doubt Iain actually loves me like I do with a lot of other people. It’s just that he loves so deeply, and I struggle to believe that I am worthy of such love.

So you think everyone is worthy of your deep love? But the second someone loves you to the same extent, you convince yourself that you are not worthy of it?

“I- I’m going to say yes.”

I just covered my face with my hands. I understand it sounds ridiculous.

Do you have any idea why that might be?

“I am terrified of being loved. To be loved is to be known. I’m so scared that people will know me and not like what they find.”

It’s been three and a half years. Iain has gotten to know me pretty well, like better than most people, and he hasn’t run away. He has seen me at my highest peaks and in my lowest valleys, yet he has stayed. But, here I am, still doubting that he will continue to know and love me. Absurd, really.

I’m skeptical that’s actually true. What’s the real reason?

“I really wish you weren’t inside my head right now. It’s quite difficult to lie to yourself. I guess I want to love more. I pride myself in loving so deeply. If I am not the one that always loves more, what do I have? Who am I if the one thing that I know I am isn’t enough?”

         I’ve always been an incredibly competitive person. Dad always tells me that I shouldn’t keep score when it comes to love, but I can’t help it. It’s Dad’s fault I’m so competitive anyways.

         It’s terribly selfish and self-destructive of me to not want to be loved deeply because I want to be known as the one who always loves more. Paradoxically, at the same time, I want to be loved deeply because I feel like I’ll never be loved or worthy of deep love if I am the one that loves more. Gosh, it’s just all so complicated. I have a fear of always loving more, yet I have a fear of what happens when I don’t love more. The thing that I pride myself on the most is also the thing that I am most afraid of.

So, I’m fundamentally afraid of never being loved, and I am fundamentally afraid of being truly loved. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

My phone rang at midnight.

I had texted Sean because I realized I hadn’t caught up with him in a while. He was driving, so he couldn’t read the text. But when he saw that I had texted him so late, he immediately called me.

I was completely fine; I just wanted to see how he was.

It’s these little moments of love.

They are real, and they are deep. And for some reason, they don’t scare me.

These small instances of love make me feel safe. They feel like home. Friends like Seannie feel like home.

They say home is where the heart is, so I believe a friend that feels like home is a friend that your heart feels safe with, someone you trust with your heart, someone that loves you in these little yet impactful ways.

I am not afraid when Seannie and I sit in silence on FaceTime for a prolonged period of time doing our own tasks just because we want to have each other’s company.

I’m not afraid when Sarah sends me a song that makes her think of me because she knows sharing songs is a love language for me.

I’m not afraid when Brady gives me one of his classically tight hugs because he can tell that I am overwhelmed in a big group.

I’m not afraid when Iain sends me a Bible verse just because he thinks I need to hear it.

I’m not afraid when Ben sends a picture of his cat just because he thinks that it will make me smile.

I’m not afraid when Zach asks me how I’m doing just because he knows that I’m too anxious to reach out first.

I’m not afraid when Mom sends me a message asking if I want her to drive down to D.C. to get lunch just because I’ve had a tough week.

I’m not afraid when Dad stays up late talking with me about literally anything and everything just because he wants to know what I have to say.

So you can list off small yet genuine and specific repeated moments of love for eight different people in your life?

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

You like to play the what-if game, right?

“Yes, we have established this.”

What if you continued to allow love to be a defining aspect of you but what if this love was not defined by all these insanely large fears and immensely competitive nature? What if instead you allowed these small moments to define your love, and, in turn, you?

“Follow-up what-if question: What if I try to let my love be defined by these small moments but I fail? What if I never get over the fear of both never being loved and being loved? What if these fears are always there?”

Keep loving despite the fear. Keep loving despite those that don’t love you. Keeping loving with the support of those that do. Keep loving.