What Is Life Without Love?

The past few years, I have struggled. The world felt loud, like there were endless tasks pulling me in different directions, countless people awaiting responses, and a whirlwind of demands that never seemed to quiet down. Amid this chaos, I found myself grieving—grieving the loss of my father, a grief that I’ve carried for 19 years. I was just a teenager when he passed away, and while I had support and processed it in my own way, it’s never felt complete. There's always been this small part of me, holding out hope that maybe one day, I’d wake up, and he’d be there—along with all the others we've lost.

Life has moved forward in the years since—new accomplishments, new friends, new family members, new memories—but there's always been a lingering heartache, a void where someone should be. This year, though, I find myself feeling especially overwhelmed by that loss. It’s time for me to let go—not of my father, but of the expectations I set for myself because of him. I always believed that if I achieved enough, accomplished enough, that I could earn his love, and by extension, the love of others.

But the last year and a half have shown me the cracks in that belief. I’ve struggled with loving myself, with feeling worthy of love at all, and it’s impacted my relationships. When I don’t feel worthy, I retreat, or worse, push people away—when all I really need is to feel embraced, to connect.

Recently, I came across a note that mirrored my deepest fears—that no matter what I do, it will never be enough to be truly loved. It was as if the thing I had been running from my whole life had finally caught up to me. But in that moment, something shifted: I realized that I have to let that belief go. I am the only person who can truly love me because I am the only one who knows all of me.

My dad used to say, “You either love me, like me, or leave me the f**k alone.” I couldn't leave myself alone, so I needed to start loving myself—my failures, my successes, my laziness, my drive, my emotions, my body, my skin. I needed to love all of me. In doing so, I am grieving not just my father, but the old me—the one who believed that love had to be earned through perfection.

As I let go of that version of myself, I find myself evolving into someone new. Who she will be, I don’t know yet, but I know that in order to become who I am meant to be, I need to let go. I need to trust that love is not something I have to chase; it’s something I can give freely to myself, as well as let it overflow unto others, and when I do, the world will feel quieter, less overwhelming.

In the end, love is not about perfection. It’s about embracing ourselves fully—flaws and all—and allowing others to love us for who we truly are. Life without love? That’s not life at all. And love? It starts within.

Love & Light,

Sanai