You know it’s love when you feel a constant tug at your throat and you want to run. Fast. 

A friend once told me about a book (was it Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman?) in which was discussed the human nature of “fight or flight” and that all of our relationships are fundamentally built on either our instincts to stay and wrestle with our emotions, or run to protect our vulnerable hearts.

For me, my opening statement isn’t too far off from the truth.  I’ve often wondered if I could understand the pure meaning of love – loving unselfishly, without needing anything in return or more specifically, without a guarantee that the love could be taken away or transformed into something less than extraordinary; giving love constantly without fear of how it will be received; loving without questioning whether or not the other person doubts it. 

As an adopted person, I cannot help but to question love in its truest state.  It’s an innate struggle that, thankfully, has been loosening its grip.  I am only now, at 27 almost 28, years old, understanding what love is.  And I am questioning it less. 

If anything, this love has helped me to be more receptive of the people and events in my life – to be more present in the minute-to-minute happenings, to be more forgiving of myself and my (temporary) insecurities, to allow myself to enjoy each moment and give of myself fully to another person. 

Sometimes I am caught by surprise that I’ve found love.  I am so glad my instinct tells me to stay and nourish the immense joy I’ve found with my special someone.  For once, I am perfectly happy standing in place.