Seeking Unconditional Love

Love is a feeling, a longing, and sometimes something we try to possess.

Every human being longs for love.

Without love, life can feel empty — regardless of whether you are rich or poor, healthy or sick, admired or unnoticed. Love brings joy. Love brings pain. Love requires sacrifice — giving, yielding, and sometimes letting go.

To love someone is to offer the best you can so that person may live mentally, physically, and socially well.

But what kind of love are we truly seeking?

The Different Faces of Love

There are different kinds of love in this world.

Romantic love is often the first one we recognize. It is filled with attraction, excitement, longing. Many say this passionate stage lasts no longer than two years. After that, it either fades or transforms into something steadier — family love, companionship, commitment.

The next form is family and friendship love. The love between parents and children. Between siblings. Between close friends. Even between humans and their pets. This love grows through shared life, responsibility, affection, and respect.

And then there is a deeper question:
Is there such a thing as unconditional love?

Is there someone who would love you no matter who you are?
No matter what you achieve — or fail to achieve?
No matter how much money you make?
No matter your flaws, mistakes, or brokenness?
Someone who would love you in your most original, unpolished self?

Even the tiniest baby seeks love. A baby cries for attention, for warmth, for reassurance. When that baby becomes a toddler, the need deepens — approval, presence, comfort. Without love and attention, a child’s emotional and psychological foundation may be wounded.

During puberty, hormones awaken a new longing — romantic attraction. Crushes begin. Dating follows. Eventually, perhaps marriage and family. Romantic love seems to promise that it will fill the empty spaces inside us.

Without love, a person feels like a plant without water — alive, but not flourishing.

A Childhood Searching for Love

I grew up in a family where love was scarce.

Soon after I was born, my mother developed serious mental illness. Until I was eight, life in our small town in China felt carefree. My parents worked for a government agency and we lived in state-owned housing. Neighbors knew each other like extended family. We had little beyond food and clothing, but we were content. No one had much. No one compared.

For a little girl, happiness was simple — friends to play with, three meals a day, and the chance to go to school.

When we moved to a big city when I was eight, everything changed.

In that unfamiliar environment, I shut down. I missed my friends. My parents argued constantly. Silence and cold wars became normal. The apartment felt heavy with tension. That became my childhood atmosphere.

During puberty, I quietly fell in love with a boy in my class. I kept this secret for seven years. We didn’t attend the same middle school, but seeing him occasionally filled me with a thrill — happiness mixed with anxiety.

Looking back, I realize I was seeking romantic love to fill the emptiness at home. I was emotionally deprived.

The only person I truly felt unconditional warmth from was my grandmother. She was gentle and tender, offering me comfort without judgment. But I did not see her often. She passed away when I was thirteen. I was heartbroken.

Love That Changed My Life

At seventeen, I met Alan.

He was the first person who gave me steady attention. He cared if I was unhappy. He gave me small gifts. He waited for me patiently for hours. For the first time in my life, I felt deeply loved.

The sadness that once colored my world began to fade.

We were each other’s first love. A few weeks ago, we celebrated our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Seven years after we married, our daughter Kat was born. Four years later, our son Matt arrived.

On the outside, my life looked fulfilled — loving husband, two children, a stable family.

But humans are imperfect. And so was I.

I was not always a patient mother. When my children wanted to play, I often escaped to my room to read. When they argued, I withdrew. I disliked cooking and cleaning and left much of it to Alan. I felt overwhelmed by the chaos of toys and noise.

Alan was loving — but he was human. He had his limits. My anxiety and depression quietly worsened. I became afraid of accidents, afraid to watch both children alone.

The breaking point came during a fight over an expensive painting I wanted while I was in a manic state. I crashed emotionally and ended up in a mental health facility.

Is Unconditional Love Humanly Possible?

Is there a human capable of loving you unconditionally?
A parent? A spouse? A lover?

I have come to believe the answer is no.

Humans are limited. We have moods, wounds, expectations, and conditions. We cannot consistently love perfectly in every circumstance. Even when we want to, we fail.

But I do believe unconditional love exists.

Not from humans.

God is love. His love is not based on performance, beauty, success, or failure. His love does not fluctuate with mood. His love does not withdraw when we disappoint Him.

So do not cling to another human being expecting unconditional love. They cannot give what they do not possess.

And we ourselves cannot fully give unconditional love either. We try. We promise. But we are imperfect.

When I tell someone, “You are loved,” I mean this:
You are loved by God.

When you seek Him, He answers.
When you feel abandoned, He is present.
When you feel unworthy, His love does not change.

We are loved.
And this love is unconditional.

(Copyright © 2026 Moonlite Factory Blog)

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