Love and effort
Love is waking up every day and, despite everything, saying “I still choose you”
I’ve never been great at love. I enjoyed it in depth when counselling my friends at school about their troubles, and I was lucky enough (I can say that now) to learn the array of situations of love early in my lifetime. But I had always been ill-fated with love until recently. One thing I always circle back about love is this:
People often grow up watching love portrayed as this effortless magic that brings and keeps people together. The reality is far more intricate. While it can feel otherworldly at times, the magic is a mere mask of all the effort you’re making behind the smokescreen to keep love alive.
Ava put it well:
Most people seem to think that love is unchanging versus merely enduring, that if you’re really passionate about something you wake up excited to do it every day. I don’t believe that’s true. In fact, it sets you up for failure—you start out in a manic rush of excitement, believing that the framework or cause or person you’ve found will be your salvation, and after a while you become disenchanted. If you think disenchantment is a sign of disaster, you’ll probably abandon what you’re doing. In order to stick with anything for a long period of time, you have to believe that disenchantment is a normal, healthy part of experience.
The essence of love lies not in its ability to make everything perfect, but in the willingness to work through imperfections together. It is not the absence of challenges but the shared determination to overcome them that makes love special. It’s an unwavering commitment, renewed with each sunrise. And in this light, love becomes ‘easy’—not because it demands no effort, but because you know all of it feels worthwhile.
Disenchantment is a rather pleasant word in this subject because, when the magic mist clears, it’s important we see certain things for exactly what they are.
It’s a natural part of any long-term commitment—be it a person, project, or cause. Don’t characterise love as endless enthusiasm. Instead, define it by your continuance through its heavenly highs and hellish lows. This endurance, this willingness to persist even when the spark dims, is what creates you.
People often misunderstand love as voyaging lightly over still waters, overlooking that an ocean is still an ocean, and the sobering waves are still out there. They expect to wake up every day brimming with enthusiasm, but this idealised vision only sets them up for disappointment and dejection.
Choose love wisely. When disenchantment inevitably follows a honeymoon rush, when your object of affection loses its sheen of perfection and reality sets in, this period can be wildly disconcerting if you’re unprepared for it.
However, when you wake up each day and understand that your lack of excitement is not a sign you’ve chosen the wrong path—but an opportunity to deepen your commitment—you will strengthen your bond with what you’ve committed to.
Commitment reveals the full spectrum of emotions, including the less thrilling ones. It allows—or arguably forces—for a more authentic experience. Throughout the experience, you must remember why you committed, whether to practice mindfulness and stop idealising the future or just to learn open communication or goal-setting.
Ultimately, you can find love in its absolute form relatively easily. What love comes with, however, is where your ability to surrender yourself matters. It’s where you listen to your heart when it says, “Everything you need is here.” It’s where you show up and deliver love through vulnerabilities, worries, flaws, and big mistakes. It’s where you learn self-trust and realise that you know what’s good for you and what makes you smile and grow. Any love that encourages this, despite momentary challenges, is worthwhile and sustainable.