The Art of Loving Well
photo by Josh Hild
“To love well is the task in all meaningful relationships, not just romantic bonds.” - bell hooks
Over what I can only describe as a confusing, wonderful, and transformative season of life — though that description is fitting for most seasons of life — I’ve begun to appreciate acts of love and moments of pure connection as they happen. I’ve compiled a list of such moments with the people I hold close as a reminder of the kind of fulfillment truly loving relationships can create, and as a standard for when it becomes easy to settle for less. I hope it calls you to think of the ways in which these loving practices take form in your own life.
How my loved ones and I practice loving well:
People are always saying that communication is key when it comes to building healthy relationships, but for a long time I didn’t know what that really meant — ‘communication’ or ‘healthy.’ My growing appreciation for those around me has enlightened me on the ways in which we communicate with the intent to connect and wholeheartedly understand one another — especially communicating the words that get stuck in the back of our throats and the pits of our stomachs. Here are some examples.
Our relationships hold the same worth even when we don’t see each other in person or text/call/Instagram DM each other. If we’re busy for a couple of weeks and don’t make time to see each other, nothing changes. We just make up for it with an extra enthusiastic “Hi! I missed you.”
I talk about them when they're not around. I may not be able to go one conversation without talking about the people I love. Unhealthy or romantic? Definitely the latter.
I talk to my cat, Toast, as if he’s a person even though I know he can’t understand me. Anything I would say to him if he could understand me, I say anyway, because you never know. He could be a bilingual genius despite his ping-pong-ball-sized brain.
Talking about my feelings and being vulnerable can be difficult for me at times but instead of getting frustrated, my boyfriend, Saiyam, helps me get better at it. Often, when I’m in a bad mood it goes a bit like this. Saiyam notices my shift in mood so he asks, “What’s on your mind?” I say quietly, “I don’t know, nothing.” He reminds me, “It’s just a story you’re telling yourself, if you say it out loud it’ll go away!” My immediate response is usually adamance that I don’t want to talk about it, so I say, honestly, “But I don’t want to.” He pushes a little further and says, “Trust me, you’ll feel better.” After this exact conversation happens about five more times, I finally give in. In the aftermath, I always admit, “Okay… maybe that did help.”
Perhaps more important than moments of vulnerability are the times we remind each other to take a breath and indulge in a laugh. I love to laugh; it’s no wonder that humor is such an effective coping mechanism and comedians live to make people laugh as if they live in the Monsters Inc. universe. Being easily overwhelmed is far too high on my list of dominant personality traits but the people who love me are kind enough to always exhibit an abundance of patience and lightness to help me through it.
My friends and I think we are the funniest people on Earth. When one of us makes a good joke, we don’t just laugh, we tell each other it was funny — as if one of us being skilled or stupid enough to land a good joke is surprising.
Deynira and I are on our way to Brandy Melville. We like to go there for the clothes and, as two women of color, to feel like an outcast — the way characters feel in 90’s high school movies with the kind of blatant hierarchy that no longer exists, at least not in the same way. We’re walking down 5th Ave and I ask Deynira, “Where’s the Brandy Melville?” She informs me that it is literally right in front of us. I exclaim, “OH! Oops…” She calls me out lovingly, as she often does, “That’s embarrassing and I hope you never change.” Our ability to laugh at ourselves reminds us of how absurd life on Earth can be.
We remind each other to go easy on ourselves. Being 20 years old is hard. Whenever we dislike ourselves more than usual, we remind each other it will all be okay.
When I’m not feeling my best and my opinion of my own worth takes a hit, it helps to remind myself that I think my friends are wonderful, intelligent, talented, and thoughtful human beings who would not be friends with me if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Part of loving well is investing in one another — believing in each other to accomplish our most ambitious dreams and be our most whole selves.
We celebrate each other's wins. My roommate, Christian, and my boyfriend, Saiyam, are both actors. I’ve seen more plays this past year than ever before, and have had the privilege of watching Christian and Saiyam act in some of them. Last February, Saiyam got a last-minute audition for the play Queen by Madhuri Shekhar, being performed at Ensemble Theater in Cincinnati. I read the play the day of his audition, he booked it less than 24 hours later, and he had four days to prepare to leave. He was going to be gone for about seven weeks, rehearsing and performing. I was happy for him but I also missed him and my normal life chaos was harder to deal with without his immediate support. By the end of those two months, it was obvious that being able to perform in that play was not only rewarding for him as an actor but it was also rewarding for me to get to see the person I love doing what they love.
We want the best for each other and don’t want the other person to settle for less than they deserve, especially if they’re doubting their worth.
Deynira and I are sitting at Washington Square Park after class doing our two favorite activities: sitting and talking. She confesses, “Maybe I’m just not meant to be in a relationship ever.” I try to be helpful despite often subscribing to the same sentiment, “Just because you haven’t found the right person doesn’t mean you never will.” Deynira responds, “Yeah but…the guys who like me are not really the ones I want to like me.” This can be such a universal feeling, so I need to be truthful. I tell her, “Yeah, and the guys who like you definitely aren’t as nice to you as you are to them — so unfortunately you’re gonna have to wait it out.” Deynira replies, “That is very true.” As always, we can’t have too much jaded honesty before humor and optimism kick in. I tell her, “You shouldn’t settle for less than you deserve just so you have something. Not when it’s hot girl summer.”
Above all, we just like each other. We like each other and so we think of each other. We like each other and so we care for each other.
When Saiyam and I are about to cross the street in New York but a car is coming that we didn’t see or is faster than we thought, the grip of his arm around me tightens in an act of protection. It’s weird to me how when men are protective, it’s viewed as a masculine trait of strength and power when the sentiment behind it can be so nurturing, a trait we associate with the feminine.
My cat, Toast, paws around my food to hide its scent — like we’re in the wild. Obviously, he does this with his own food and his litter box but I find it very cute and funny that he also does it to my food, though, he does not do it to my toilet.
The moments I’ve detailed are incredibly mundane but they make up the most important parts of my life and the most important relationships in my life. They are the moments that occur in between what seem like impressive accomplishments and traumatic events; they are the glue that holds me together as the pendulum swings. These moments used to feel fleeting and insignificant because of how they happen all the time but the things that often go unnoticed can have the biggest impact on who we are and the quality of our lives. Fortunately, noticing these moments in my life has been a reminder of how good I have it.
