Love Letters to My Grown Self Vol 1: What Real Love Really Means

Love Letters to My Grown Self: The Real Meaning of Love and Growth

This is the first of many love letters to my grown self—written with the lessons, healing, and wisdom I’ve gained along the way.

Dear Grown Me,

A soft moment of reflection—because real love starts with me.

You used to think love was enough. Enough to fix people. Enough to keep them. Enough to hold everything together, even when it was falling apart. But now you know better. Now you love wiser.

Because life has taught you that love isn’t just a word—it’s a language, a behavior, and a responsibility.

What I Thought Love Was

I thought love was roses, hearts, candy, butterflies in your stomach. All the pretty stuff. And that’s beautiful—especially in the beginning. But real love? It goes so much deeper than that.

I thought love was how someone made you feel. But love is how someone makes you feel safe. Love is sacrifice. It’s a mother going without so her child can have. It’s a partner standing by your side through the hard parts, not just the highlight reel.

I think of my great-grandfather. My great-grandmother had Alzheimer’s. Even when she forgot him, even when she became combative, he stayed. He cared for her. He loved her. Fiercely. Gently. Completely. Until the very end.

That’s what love is.

Love is also what people say about you when you’re not in the room. It’s the way they protect your name, your secrets, your spirit.

And love is never asking you to sacrifice your peace, your body, or your boundaries just to prove you care. That’s not love. That’s self-sabotage.

What Love Should Never Be

Love should never feel like betrayal. It should never be used to manipulate.

“I’m sorry, but don’t you love me?”

“I only did that because I love you.”

No.

Love without accountability is just emotional blackmail.

I remember being in high school and having a very close family member—someone I trusted—spread false rumors about me. They were hurt, so they tried to hurt me. People believed them because we were so close. It was humiliating. It was painful. And I’m still unpacking it at 40 years old.

That experience taught me: Everyone who says they love you doesn’t always show it. And words without behavior mean nothing.

Love should never feel like walking on eggshells. It shouldn’t leave you questioning your worth. Love shouldn’t be a cycle of pain followed by apologies.

Love doesn’t tear you down. Love doesn’t hurt you on purpose and then demand forgiveness. That’s not love. That’s control.

What Love Has Taught Me

Love has taught me that self-love is the most important kind. It’s the foundation for everything else.

It’s also taught me about God’s love—steady, unchanging, and always enough. Even when I felt forgotten, I was never alone.

I’ve learned that I can’t control how people love me, but I can control how I love others—and how I love myself. I choose to move in love. But I also choose to protect my peace.

Sometimes, love means walking away. Sometimes, love means saying no. Sometimes, love means choosing you.

And through it all, I’ve been blessed to experience real love from real people: Friends who showed up for me when I needed a shoulder and a cheerleader. Romantic partners who honored me with softness and respect. Family members who defended my name when I couldn’t speak for myself.

Unconditional love lives in moments like this. My children remind me what it truly means to be loved without limits.

And my children? Their love is something divine. Loud, fierce, protective, unconditional. And the love I feel for them is deeper than anything I’ve ever known. It grounds me. It transforms me. It reminds me who I am.

Love has taught me to be open. Love has taught me to be strong. Because I’ve been loved well—and that love raised my standards.

A Promise to My Future Self

In this next chapter—this chapter of wisdom, of intention, of alignment—I make this promise:

I promise to love boldly. But I will no longer accept the bare minimum.

I promise to challenge the word “love” when it’s spoken without action. I expect what I give—and if you can’t match that, that’s okay. I’ll love you from a distance.

I promise not to become bitter. I will protect my joy. I will surround myself with people who know how to love deeply, truthfully, and fully.

And most importantly, I will stay open. I will not let past hurt block future blessings. I will not let a few bad experiences convince me that love isn’t still out there, waiting to meet me—with open arms and good intentions.

Because I deserve that. And I’m finally ready to receive it—the way I’ve always given it.

With love,

Me

no longer shrink. This is what healed confidence looks like.