“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” — Dalai Lama XIV, The Art of Happiness

Love has never been something easy for me to grasp. Some people are afraid of spiders and the boogie man, but I have always been terrified of love. I knew that my family loved me, and I loved them equally, but for another human who had no obligation to me to choose to love me was a concept that just blew my mind. I rejected every concept of love I would come across. Over the weekend, I was having a conversation with a lovely little human about love and life.

Essentially, I shared my theory about the situation:

"You see, your entire life is this wonderful book, and each person that comes into your life is a single chapter. That person imprints on you like a pen on paper, and it lasts forever. Just like books, there are moments of lull in life and moments of sheer bliss. People change you, but that one chapter doesn't always have to be the entire book. The point is, there are seasons of change and seasons of growth. It is just a change in the chapter."

We are going to take a moment and discuss the evolution of my concept of love. It has dramatically changed over the past 18 years, and I am sure it will change even more in the coming years.

I grew up being surrounded by love. My parents, grandparents and family friends all adored with cheek kisses and unbelievable adoration. My parents loved each other, but it was not a smothering of “I love you’s”. It was early morning breakfast and coffee. It was long drives to nowhere in particular. It was yelling loudly and being able to say “I’m sorry," at the end, sealed with a kiss. Love was messy, but it was something I knew.

My first love was a boy in Pre-K.

I know, I was a little young to be picking out my wedding dress and the floral arrangements, but it was love (or so I thought). I am sitting here years later, trying desperately to think of the young boy’s name, but I can’t seem to find it. All I know is that he reached across the table and kissed me on the cheek. Butterflies filled my stomach, and snot escaped my nose. I was in love before I knew how to ride a bike. This love fled soon enough and was replaced with a crush on a kindergartner.

This love was temporary.

Middle school was a rough time.

I did not know that eyeliner was meant to outline your eyes. Rather I thought the little pen was made to transform you into a panda. Pandas are cute but not on a short awkward girl. Other than my fashion and beauty mistakes, I made the mistake of thinking that love was made to be ooey and gooey. I thought love was what you do, rather than who you are with. I was in this deep search to find my “prince charming” and instead, found my “jerk." It was a dramatic event in my early teenage years, but it taught me exactly what I didn’t need. I did not and will never need somebody that treats me like an object rather than a human being. I was in love with a boy who found my existence comparable to a punching bag rather than a person (or so I thought).

Soon enough, I learned my lesson, and the love evaded.

High school was a roller coaster.

I was attempting to find my place in this big, bad world and instead, found myself attached to a self-proclaimed rockstar — a guy who found the lifestyle more appealing than focusing on things like college applications and football games. I was in love with a man who was on a path towards self-destruction (or so I thought). I wanted to live the life he promised. I realized that this promise was simply a lie when he hopped on a plane and left me picking up all the messes he had made. It didn’t really sink in until he sat across me and uttered the words, “I don’t love you anymore." I can vividly remember sitting in my bedroom on a Friday night with tears streaming from my eyes and the words, “What did I do wrong?” escaping my chapped lips. In reality, I had done nothing wrong. It was simply a chapter in the passing. The tears dried up, and I found a chapstick that worked. I was not broken and soon, I realized that the love I had once felt for this man had quickly eluded my thoughts.

When things don’t go right the first time, you try the complete opposite.

Instead of a self-proclaimed rockstar, I found myself a reliable relationship: a man who wanted to get married and have kids — the white picket fence lifestyle. There is nothing wrong with this life, and for a period of time, it was the only thing I wanted. I had known how walking on eggshells felt, and I simply wanted stability. I thought love was supposed to be perfect and comfortable, with the lines colored in with such tender care. I remember I woke up one day in that same bedroom with tears tidal-waving from my eyes, and I realized that this was not love. This was not what I wanted.

The love I had felt transitory.

Then I met a blue-eyed man who cocooned me with a feeling of home. A dynamic transition of punk shows to after church Sunday strolls are fond memories. The panic that someone loves me has escaped me. Instead, I bask in the happiness that it brings. I savor the moments of pure bliss. The long car rides to random places, the strong coffee and the laughter that overwhelms me.

Through those whom I have shared chapters with in the past, I have come to a strong conclusion of what love isn’t.

I know for a fact love is not this beautifully laid out plan. Sometimes it is messy. Sometimes laughter turn into tears, but at the end of the day, I know I am loved. I know a safe place in the crook of the blue-eyed man’s arms. Instead of worrying about the logistics of love, I have realized that I just need to enjoy the chapter. The moments I spend searching for cheap airfare because love is too damn scary are minute and minuscule. They aren't important in the grand scheme of things. What is important is the love and compassion that I am surrounded by each and every day, from dawn till dusk.