The Kind of Love We Forget: Learning to Care for Others Without Abandoning Ourselves

February is loud about love. Red hearts. Roses. Chocolates. Big gestures. Perfect moments.

Everywhere you look, love is packaged as something shiny and external. Something to give. Something to receive. Something to prove.

But the love that has changed my life the most has never looked like any of that. It looks like learning how to be gentle with myself. It looks like rest without guilt. It looks like choosing myself even when it feels uncomfortable.

Growing up in foster care shaped how I understood love early on. Acceptance felt earned, and I learned quickly that being helpful, agreeable, and needed was often the safest way to belong, even if it meant slowly losing myself in the process. Love didn’t feel unconditional. It felt transactional. If I was good, useful, easy, or accommodating, I was safe. If I wasn’t, I learned to shrink.

That belief followed me into adulthood in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.

For a long time, I thought love meant giving everything I had until I had nothing left. I was really good at helping. Fixing. Showing up. Holding space. Carrying weight that wasn’t mine to carry. I wore that like a badge of honor. If someone needed something, I figured it was my responsibility to give it.

What I didn’t realize was how often I confused being needed with being loved.

As women, we are often praised for how much we give. We are celebrated for being strong, reliable, dependable, and selfless. Somewhere along the way, many of us learn that our worth is tied to our usefulness.

Self love asked me to choose differently.

Helping others has always mattered to me. It still does. But I’ve learned there’s a difference between helping from overflow and helping from depletion.

February reminds us that love is layered. It’s not just romantic. It’s how we honor ourselves.

Because when you rise rooted in self love, everyone around you rises too.

Editor’s Note:

February invites us to reflect on love in all its forms, but this issue is a reminder that the most transformative love often starts within.

RISE exists to amplify stories that feel honest, human, and deeply relatable. May this February issue encourage you to extend the same compassion you offer others back to yourself.

With Love,

Jennifer