How My Understanding of Love Has Changed Over the Last Decade

If you had asked teenage me what love looked like, I probably would have described something straight out of a Disney movie.

You meet someone, you fall in love, and somehow everything else just works itself out. There would be passion, romance, endless chemistry, unwavering loyalty and the feeling that you'd found your person. Yes, there might be arguments from time to time, but deep down I believed that if two people truly loved each other, things should mostly feel easy.

For a long time, I carried that belief with me.

And then life happened.

I had relationships that brought me incredible joy, relationships that broke my heart, relationships that taught me painful lessons about myself and others, and relationships that simply weren't healthy. Looking back, I can see that I didn't just want a partner - I wanted someone who would make me feel whole. I wanted someone who would quiet my insecurities, reassure me whenever I doubted myself and make me feel chosen every single day. I didn't realise it at the time, but I was asking another person to carry responsibilities that were never really theirs.

One memory always comes back to me when I think about how much I've changed. Years ago, I remember feeling genuinely upset when my boyfriend looked at another attractive woman walking down the street. I wasn't angry because he had done anything inappropriate; I was hurt because, in my mind, if he truly loved me, why would he even notice someone else? Looking back now, I almost smile at that version of myself. Not because her feelings were silly - they weren't - but because I understand them so differently today. It wasn't about another woman. It was about my own fear of not being enough. If she was prettier, funnier or more attractive than me, what did that mean for us? It took me years to realise that those questions had very little to do with him and almost everything to do with how I saw myself.

That has probably been the biggest theme of the last decade: realising that the things I thought were about my relationships were often really about me.

Looking back, I'm almost amused by how consistently I've been drawn to this topic. So much has changed in my life over the years. I've moved countries, changed careers, become a mother and started over more than once. Yet somehow, one thing has remained exactly the same: my fascination with relationships. I've spent countless evenings listening to podcasts about couples navigating conflict, reading books on attachment, communication and intimacy, and trying to understand why some people seem to create healthy, lasting relationships while others keep repeating the same painful patterns. At first I thought I was trying to understand the people I loved. Eventually, I realised I was trying to understand myself.

The more I learned, the less interested I became in finding someone to blame whenever a relationship struggled. Life isn't as simple as the stories we grow up with. Outside of situations involving abuse or manipulation, relationships are rarely about one good person and one bad person. They're usually about two people bringing their own histories, fears, expectations and coping mechanisms into the same space. That doesn't mean everyone carries equal responsibility for every problem. But it does mean we always have the opportunity to ask ourselves difficult questions. Why did I ignore something that didn't feel right? Why was I afraid to speak up? Why did I settle? Why did I believe I had to earn love instead of simply receiving it? Those questions were uncomfortable, but they changed my life far more than trying to analyse someone else's behaviour ever did.

Perhaps the biggest surprise is that I've become less romantic over the years - and somehow, I love relationships more because of it. I no longer expect a partner to complete me or to fill the parts of myself that once felt empty. I don't expect perfection, and I certainly don't expect someone to never disappoint me. Instead, I find myself appreciating much quieter things: emotional safety, honest conversations, accountability after mistakes, laughter after conflict, the willingness to repair instead of walk away, and two people who continue choosing each other while fully aware that neither of them is perfect.

I've traded fantasy for reality, and I wouldn't go back.

The older I get, the more I realise that healthy relationships aren't built by two flawless people who never hurt each other. They're built by two self-aware people who are willing to keep learning, keep communicating and keep taking responsibility - not only for the relationship they share, but for themselves.

Maybe that's why I'm still so fascinated by relationships after all these years.

Not because I've figured them out.

But because every time I think I understand love a little better, it reminds me that there's still so much more to learn.