The Fear of Being Unloved (And What to do About It)

About a week ago, I woke up to a text from a friend that read “At the core, I worry over [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][it] because I fear I’m unlovable.” I said to myself (and him): I’m going to need a cup of coffee before I can provide an adequate response.

As I reflected on words to share that would communicate solidarity, encouragement, and hope, I recalled a letter John Steinbeck wrote to his son Thom after he had fallen in love with a young woman named Susan at boarding school, in which he says:

“I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.”

As Steinbeck suggests in his letter, there are two kinds of love: one being “a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance,” and the other being “an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable.”

This is true not only in Eros (romantic), but Phileo (brotherly) and Agape (unconditional) love also. In its numerous contexts, the pursuit of this love is the journey we’re all on, where the healthy acknowledgment of our need for it drives us to affirm the uniqueness and value of others. Unfortunately, the fear of unrequited love (or presence of) often prevents wholeness from being welcomed into our lives and relationships.

Erik, a man I had the great pleasure of speaking with recently, has excellent perspective. Sharing how he’s felt as of late, he said “It’s like I’m no longer a person, but a situation. When people talk to me, they don’t see Erik, they see whatever their perspective on homelessness is.” So ready to affirm the value and uniqueness of others, the unreciprocated lack of it in his own life has left his heart weak and frayed.

I happened to be brainstorming the content I’d be using for this post before our conversation began, which managed to make its way into our dialogue. I asked him: If what we all desire is to be loved by others, what prevents us from receiving that love? His response was golden. He looks at me, with warmth in his eyes, and says “At its source, you share it with others, so you should be asking yourself what’s preventing YOU…then you have your answer.”

So, dear friend—you were not asking me what you feel, but rather what to do about it. Here’s my reply, which is also an excerpt from Steinbeck’s letter to his son:

“The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it. If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so. It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good. Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it…don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.”

BTW: I set a time to meet with Erik again, and can’t wait to share this with him as well.

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