Learning to Love Again

Earlier, I was out walking with my dog Avery as we always do, when my thoughts were drawn to something that I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. Truthfully, I’m not even sure what made me think of it in the first place—maybe it was just the rhythm of my walk with Avery—but my mind somehow drifted back to a time when my story first began.

The year was 2001. This is the moment where false love, bitter betrayal, and everything I thought I knew about relationships collided, which would markedly change me for good.

Looking back on all those years ago, it’s really hard to describe that particular kind of heartbreak. It’s the kind that doesn’t just hurt; instead, it shakes the foundation of who you are. I remember how I’d given everything at that time—my heart, my trust, and my future—to someone I thought I could believe in. And what I got in return was the act of betrayal.

For a really long time afterward, I didn’t know how to process the emotions I was feeling. All I could think of at the time was, What’s wrong with me? How could someone whom I loved so fully turn around and do something so cold-blooded, so calculated, so evil?

These would become the questions that would haunt me for years to come.

As much as I tried to move forward in my life, there was always this lingering type of fear. It wasn’t just the fear of getting hurt again, but rather the fear of love itself. For the most part, I shut down nearly completely. I told myself that I didn’t need that kind of connection in my life anymore. It was safer not to feel anything for anyone anymore.

So, I turned myself inward. I focused solely on me, on trying to figure out who I was without the benefit of love, without partnership, without that version of a future I once wanted more than anything.

But here’s the thing about love, and I don’t mean your everyday, run-of-the-mill type love, but rather, real love. It has a way of showing up again, even when you’ve done everything you can to keep it at arm’s distance.

I have to admit that when love did finally happen for me a second time, it wasn’t quick by any stretch of the imagination. And it sure wasn’t easy. But over time, I started to let my guard down and allowed myself to feel again.

What’s amazing is that somewhere along the way, certain parts of me that I thought were long gone—the parts that once believed in love, and longed for a romantic connection—actually started to return to me…again. Albeit slowly.

I was like one of those little rabbits you sometimes hear about who poke their heads out of the hole. They act really timid at first, uncertain if the coast is even clear. But eventually, in time, they do finally come all the way out.

Learning to love again didn’t mean I forgot the past or even pretended that it didn’t happen. It just meant accepting that I could still be open to the aspect of love without losing myself. That I could still trust again, even after a painful betrayal. That I did have the option of choosing love, but a different kind this time. One that’s gentler. Kinder. And definitely something that is real.

And while I did eventually find love again, it didn’t last with a forever type ending as I’d hoped. But that doesn’t make it a failure. It just means that life unfolded in a way I wasn’t expecting. Since then, I’ve come to the realization that love can be meaningful even if it’s only temporary. It reminded me that I still can give and receive full and honest love, without fear.

In the end, I won’t let the betrayal of one love—or the ending of another—define me. And I don’t see myself ending my search for the kind of love that wants to stay. Because these days I know it’s possible. And I am still a believer.

David Shubert