Steem4nigeria Accelerator Contest Week 105: Things I Can't Do For Love

My love life… yeah, it's been a trip. It's one of those words that looks and sounds so simple but is actually a universe of meaning within it. Love, to me, has never been a matter of candlelit dinners and heart-stopping moments. It's that deep, intangible connection that binds you to someone—family member, dear friend, spouse—and makes their happiness feel like it's a prerequisite for your own.

Yes, without a doubt. My first real, gut-understanding of love was from my mother. It was the way she'd just place her own needs aside, not with some great big sigh, but just as a matter of course. That's when it all clicked for me. Love wasn't the big decree; it was in the daily, humdrum choices. It was deed, not verse.

Romantic love? That was later, and that was something different. It was this wild mix of exhilaration and sheer fear. I loved it because I met someone whose quiet I could bear and whose laughter was something that we somehow shared together. It taught me that love is a verb. It's the conscious act of getting up, day after day, after the spark has faded to something more authentic and enduring.

Lines I Won't Cross, Even for Love

I can finally be truthful—I've fallen. I've gone out of my way for people I loved, only to realise I'd bent so far back that I couldn't recall what it felt like to stand straight once more. I learnt the hard way that love demands fences to keep good in and bad out. My deal-breakers are pretty simple now:

• I will not vanish. I will not scale down my dreams, silence my voice, or give up on the things that make me me. True love should not make you want a miniature of you; it should convince you that you can finally expand.

• I won’t cause collateral damage. Betraying a friend’s trust or stepping on others to prove my love to someone? That’s not love. That’s just selfishness wearing a clever mask.

• I won’t confuse drama for devotion. If love feels like a constant rollercoaster of manipulation, mind games, or control, then it’s not love. I’d rather have peace than passion if that’s the price.

Getting It Right: Love That Doesn't Leave a Mark

We all mess up. I'm certain I have. I once wrapped myself around someone I loved, believing my non-stop worrying was just proof of how much I loved them. It just felt like a cage, I found out. That lesson was a harsh but tough one. I have come to find that the most authentic kind of love is respectful. It involves allowing people the space to breathe, listening to their ideas (particularly when they conflict with yours), and trusting them to decide for themselves.

Honesty, painful though it is at times, is the cornerstone. A relationship based on little white lies is building on sand. It may hold for a while, but the first storm will wash it away.

And most often, the greatest love is silent. It's not in the giant bouquets but in the cup of tea made without asking. It's in the note that reads, "I'm here if you want to talk," without expectation of return. It's in balance, understanding that loving one does not equate to shutting out the world.

Where I've Landed

Looking back, love has been my most effective, if sometimes harsh, instructor. It’s brought incredible joy and sharp pain, and both were necessary. I’ve settled on this: love isn’t about ownership; it’s about appreciation. It’s seeing someone, truly seeing them, and holding them in high regard.

When it's done right—with kindness, with respect, and a healthy dose of honesty—it doesn't break people. It makes them stronger. Yes, so I love it. But now I try to do it with my eyes open and my heart guarded by the prudence of wise lessons.