What I Did for Love, by Will Stanton

It often has been said that love is the most powerful force in the world. I feel that this belief might have some merit, although it's hard for me to say. Perhaps I have had too little experience with love to know for sure. I have had brief moments in my life that felt like love, sometimes even somewhat prolonged feelings. I am very thankful for those moments and cherish their memory. In retrospect, however, thinking over my life, it feels as though I had very little love growing up and only moments of it since. Fate conspired against it.

That is why I procrastinated writing this short piece, even though I already had completed, way in advance, all the other subjects on our topic-list. I sensed that this would not be a particularly easy nor happy piece for me to write.

I seem to remember from childhood, rather than familial support and love, more prolonged feelings of tension, anxiety, confusion, dread, even draining of my spirit. It was only later when I learned more about psychology that I realized that my family was what is called a “looking good family,” that is, one that appears from the outside to be stable and normal; however, within, the family is dysfunctional. No, I do not recall much in the way of love in those years.

I had a partner for a while. I know that I was loved. The last years, however, turned out to be very stressful, for he suffered six years with lung and brain cancer. I took care of him the whole time. I know that he continued to love me, but the shadow of death took away much of the joy.

Since then, I have had a few really good, close friends. We care for each other. Yet, I have my own issues now to deal with, and those now predominate my thinking and feelings. Such concerns make it hard to for me at this time to love myself sufficiently enough to reach out and to love another.

During hardship and stress, I have turned to an antidote that is not practical, but does take my mind away from my sadness. In all likelihood, friends would advise me to dispense with this unproductive antidote; but, over time, it became a habit. At times, my mind is drawn back into its imaginings of being totally healthy, being the type of person who is capable of truly accepting and loving himself, and, therefore, has found love with another imagined companion of like kind. I have a creative, vivid imagination; therefore, I can construct scenarios that are superlatively idyllic. They are made of enduring beauty and love.

No, those imaginings are not the real thing; and, assuredly, they take away from my time and energy that, otherwise, could be spent reaching out to worthwhile people who might extend love in a realistic way. Yet, I am set in my ways. Without better health and greater spirit, I suppose that I shall remain as I am—and dream.

Painting by Maxfield Parrish

© 16 November 2015

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.