I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve had relationships with who have claimed to love me then acted in ways which have been anything but loving. It’s been very confusing and causes what psychologists call cognitive dissonance, ie holding two opposing beliefs or thoughts at the same time. They love me but they hurt me. They say they’re honest yet I know they’ve lied. They say they’re trustworthy yet I know they’ve cheated. And so on.

I remember when I had the argument with my biological Dad when I was 21 which finally caused me to break all contact with him. I had asked my step-Dad to give me away when I got married because he had fed, clothed and housed me since I was 9 years old, helped me buy the home I and my husband were to live in and was paying for my wedding. My biological Dad shouted down the phone to me that I was his daughter and it was his place to give me away, yet hadn’t been to visit me since I was 7 years old, had only met my fiance once (and only then because we made the effort to visit him), hadn’t offered to come dress shopping with me or to help me choose a venue, let alone offered to pay for the wedding and yet in his entitlement he wanted to be Top Dog. “I love you!” he yelled, yet aside from performative Christmas and birthday presents sent through the post he had, to all intents and purposes, abandoned me.

Love is a verb. It’s a doing word. It’s not a thought, it’s an action. We can’t just speak love we have to act in loving ways.

I had a friend who said she cared about me, yet when I was being bullied and was in deep emotional distress she didn’t even email me to ask how I was. I later learned she’d had, at the time, some stress in her own life so when she reached out to me 2 years later I gave the friendship another chance. But when I was diagnosed with a brain tumour and it took her 3 months to email me (she never rang or offered to visit) I didn’t respond. I’ve shown more care and concern when my next door neighbour’s dog was sick.

I’ve had partners say they love me while cheating on me. Family say they love me then physically assaulted me. It’s not a love I recognise.

I had a friend message me this week to say she’d noticed I’d been a bit quiet the past couple of weeks and was I OK? That is love.

Another friend lets me sound off when I’m upset or frustrated then asks “what can I do to support you?” That is love.

A family member remembers my birthday, my late Mum’s birthday and the anniversary of her death, and contacts me to say she’s thinking of me even though she’s lived on the other side of the world for 40 years. That is love.

A partner who cooks dinner even though it’s not his turn, then runs me a bath because I’m in pain and feeling tired. That is love.

After conflict, love is asking “tell me what I could have done differently so that I can learn and grow and avoid upsetting you in the same way again”.

To love is a call to care. A call to be present. A call to hold the heart of another with respect, with trust, with kindness.

Love is a verb. Without action, it is merely a word.