The Hard Truth About "I Love You"

There was a time in my life when I thought hearing “I love you” meant something was safe.

Maybe it didn’t fix everything.

Maybe it didn’t erase the hurt.

Maybe it didn’t make every argument disappear.

But somewhere deep inside of me, I believed those three words proved something.

I believed they meant I mattered.

I believed they meant I was chosen.

I believed they meant the relationship had something solid to stand on.

And if I’m being honest, there were times when I held on to those words tighter than I held on to the truth of what I was actually feeling.

That’s hard to admit, but I know I’m not the only woman who has done that.

We hear “I love you,” and sometimes we try to make it cover everything else.

The distance.

The disrespect.

The confusion.

The silence.

The feeling of being alone while still being connected to someone.

The way our body gets tense before a conversation.

The way our heart sinks when their name pops up on the phone.

The way we start questioning ourselves because their words sound loving, but their actions feel heavy.

And that is the hard truth I had to learn.

Sometimes “I love you” is said in places where love is not being fully practiced.

I used to think love was mostly about what someone said.

Now I understand love is also about what someone consistently makes you feel.

Because some of the loneliest relationships I have ever experienced still had “I love you” in them.

Those words were spoken.

Sometimes often.

Sometimes casually.

Sometimes after an argument.

Sometimes after hurt.

Sometimes when someone wanted forgiveness.

Sometimes when someone wanted to keep access to me.

Sometimes when the conversation was getting too honest and those words became the blanket thrown over everything that still needed to be dealt with.

And yet, even after hearing them, I didn’t always feel loved.

I felt confused.

I felt unseen.

I felt emotionally tired.

I felt like I had to shrink parts of myself to keep peace.

I felt like I had to be understanding all the time, even when I was the one who needed to be understood.

That’s a strange place to be in, because when someone says they love you, you want to believe them.

Especially as women.

So many of us are raised to value love so deeply that we sometimes forget to ask what kind of love we are receiving.

We’re taught to appreciate the words.

We’re taught to be patient.

We’re taught to give grace.

We’re taught to see the good.

We’re taught not to walk away too quickly.

And yes, there is beauty in patience.

There is beauty in grace.

There is beauty in seeing the good in people.

But there is also wisdom in paying attention.

Because love should not require us to abandon ourselves just to keep it.

I think many of us have been trained to listen for love instead of noticing how love feels.

We wait to hear the words.

We replay them in our minds.

We hold on to them when things feel shaky.

We use them as proof when our spirit is whispering that something is off.

I know I have done that.

I have listened to people tell me they loved me while their actions made me question where I stood.

I have listened to people tell me they loved me while I felt emotionally drained every time I interacted with them.

I have listened to people tell me they loved me while feeling like my feelings were always too much, too inconvenient, or too easy to dismiss.

At some point, I had to ask myself a painful question.

If this is love, why do I feel so anxious around it?

Why do I feel like I have to earn softness?

Why do I feel nervous bringing up what hurts me?

Why do I feel alone beside someone who says they care?

Why do I feel like I’m always trying to explain my heart to someone who doesn’t really want to understand it?

Those questions were not easy to sit with.

Because once you ask them honestly, you can’t unhear the answer.

And the answer may not mean the person never cared.

That’s where this gets complicated.

Sometimes people mean “I love you” the only way they know how.

Sometimes they love from their wounds.

Sometimes they love with control.

Sometimes they love with fear.

Sometimes they love with habit.

Sometimes they love with comfort, but not with the kind of care that helps you feel emotionally safe.

Some people say “I love you” because they are attached.

Some say it because they don’t want you to leave.

Some say it because they are used to saying it.

Some say it because they want the relationship to continue without having to change.

Some say it because they want to smooth over what they don’t want to take responsibility for.

And some people truly mean it.

But meaning it and showing it are not always the same thing.

That was the lesson that changed me.

Love can be real to one person and still not feel healthy to the other person.

Love can be spoken and still not be safe.

Love can be claimed and still not be consistent.

Love can be present in words and missing in behavior.

I have seen friendships where women say, “I love you, girl,” but disappear when life gets hard.

I have seen family members say they love someone while constantly criticizing, belittling, or dismissing them.

I have seen romantic relationships where “I love you” is said every day, but kindness, honesty, respect, and emotional safety are nowhere to be found.

And I have had to learn that love is not just a feeling someone says they have for me.

Love is also an experience I should be able to recognize.

Not perfectly.

Not every second.

Not without hard conversations.

But consistently enough that I’m not always questioning whether I matter.

Because real love leaves clues.

It shows up in how someone handles your feelings.

It shows up in whether they listen when you say something hurts.

It shows up in whether they take responsibility or turn everything back on you.

It shows up in whether you feel safe being honest.

It shows up in whether they respect your boundaries, even when those boundaries don’t benefit them.

It shows up in whether they care about your peace, not just your presence.

And no, relationships are not perfect.

People get tired.

People get distracted.

People say the wrong thing.

People have bad days.

We all do.

I’m not talking about expecting people to get everything right all the time.

I’m talking about the pattern.

Because patterns tell the truth that words can hide.

A person can have a bad day and still care about how they made you feel.

A person can make a mistake and still come back with humility.

A person can disagree with you and still respect you.

A person can be upset and still not try to destroy you emotionally.

That is the difference.

Love doesn’t mean there will never be conflict.

Love means conflict doesn’t become a place where your heart gets stepped on over and over again.

And that is why I had to stop asking only one question.

I stopped asking, “Do they say they love me?”

And I started asking, “What does being loved by them actually feel like?”

That question will tell you a lot.

Do I feel safe?

Do I feel valued?

Do I feel respected?

Do I feel like myself?

Do I feel seen?

Do I feel like my feelings matter, even when we don’t agree?

Do I feel peace more than confusion?

Do I feel cared for, or do I feel managed?

Do I feel loved, or do I feel kept?

That last one is important.

Because sometimes what we call love is really access.

Some people don’t want to lose what you give them.

They don’t want to lose your loyalty.

They don’t want to lose your comfort.

They don’t want to lose your forgiveness.

They don’t want to lose the version of you that keeps showing up, even when you’re empty.

But wanting access to someone is not the same as loving them well.

Love cares about what something costs you.

Love notices when you’re tired.

Love doesn’t just ask what you can give.

Love asks how you are doing while you’re giving it.

And for many of us as women, that is where the ache lives.

We have been loved for what we provide.

Loved for how patient we are.

Loved for how much we carry.

Loved for how many times we forgive.

Loved for how long we stay.

But real love should not require us to disappear.

It should not make us feel like we have to perform for affection.

It should not leave us begging for basic respect.

It should not make us feel guilty for having needs.

It should not make us question our own reality every time something hurts.

If you’re reading this and someone came to mind, I want you to pause for a moment.

Not to judge them.

Not to make a dramatic decision today.

Not to shame yourself for loving them.

Just pause and tell yourself the truth.

How do I feel in this connection?

How do I feel after I leave their presence?

How does my body respond to them?

Do I feel relaxed, or do I feel like I’m bracing for something?

Do I feel free to be honest, or do I edit myself to keep peace?

Do I feel loved, or do I feel like I’m always trying to prove I’m worth loving?

Because sometimes the truth is not hidden.

Sometimes we have just been taught to trust someone’s words more than our own experience.

I still believe “I love you” matters.

I really do.

Those words can be beautiful when they are backed by care.

They can feel healing when they come from someone who shows up with consistency.

They can feel safe when they are connected to respect.

But I no longer believe those words are enough by themselves.

Love has to live somewhere after it leaves someone’s mouth.

It has to live in their choices.

It has to live in their patience.

It has to live in their honesty.

It has to live in the way they repair what they break.

It has to live in the way they treat you when they are upset, disappointed, or not getting their way.

Because love is not just what someone says when everything is calm.

Love is also what they practice when things are uncomfortable.

And maybe that is the part of love we don’t talk about enough.

Real love does not make you feel like a burden for needing care.

Real love does not keep you confused as a way to keep you close.

Real love does not ask you to ignore your own heart so someone else can stay comfortable.

Real love leaves a feeling behind.

A steady feeling.

A safe feeling.

A feeling that says, “You matter here.”

“You don’t have to earn your place.”

“You don’t have to beg to be seen.”

“You don’t have to shrink to be loved.”

“You can be fully human here.”

And when love is real, you usually feel it long before anyone says the words.

#EvolvingWomanhood