When You Feel Like You Are Doing the “Loving,” More Than the “Being Loved”

Man, I hate disappointment. I hate it when someone lets me down. I know it will happen from time to time in life, but I still hate it when it’s my turn, or my families’ turn to experience it.

Heartache.  No fun any way you look at it.

Relationships are tricky. Emotions – overwhelming. They sneak up on you at times, and take over.

You can think something wouldn’t bother you – but then it does.

You can think you’d be brave in a certain situation, but then you’re not.

It’s the intricacies of loving and being loved.  Sometimes we feel like we are doing more of the loving, than of the “being loved.”

And boy, does it stink.

I wish I could tell you there is a way around it. I wish that I had some magical words to help you take these moments with stride.

I don’t.

For I haven’t been able to figure out how to take them in stride, myself. Not for me – and certainly not as a wife and mama; when I see my family members disappointed by others.

What I do know, is that sometimes you win some, and sometimes you lose some. Sometimes others bless us, and sometimes they neglect us. It’s a “spin the wheel” kind of thing. And you never know just who it will land on. The more you care for someone, the more it hurts when they are the ones who disappoint.

It can be easy for me to want to bail on someone when they disappoint me. I want to say, “I’m done.” For if they so obviously don’t care as much as I do, why invest the time? And I do believe healthy boundaries should be set in relationships so you don’t set yourself up to be hurt over and over and over again. So you don’t set yourself up to be used.

But, I also believe – no, I KNOW, that I have disappointed others. And I didn’t mean to.  I would never intentionally hurt someone else. So, maybe, I need to give others the same grace that I would like extended to me when I disappoint.

Grace.  And mercy.

I would still like to enjoy “being loved” as much as I enjoy “loving.” I would still like to be blessed, instead of neglected. But I know I can’t go through life accepting one, without the other. That’s not how it works.

So, I continue to love. And I continue to get hurt.

And I continue to live. 


That's the price of love.