The Power of Love, Belonging & Being Enough: Things that Get in The Way.

I've been pondering Brené Brown’s definition of love and find it hard to dispute. It fully encapsulates what love means to me—both in how I feel it for myself and for my children. While I might add more nuances over time, for now, it captures the essence.

In the chapter “Exploring the Power of Love, Belonging and Being Enough, Brené created a definition of love and belonging as;

Love

“We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honour the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection. Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them - we can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal and withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.”

Belonging:

“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it. Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.” As a parent, my greatest wish is for my children to grow into wholehearted individuals—people who feel loved and know they belong as they are, in every space and walk of life. I recognise that much of this begins with me, even before they face the world's resistance from those who might not understand or agree with my definition of love and belonging.

Practicing love and belonging is no small feat. It requires work—internal recognition, a presence within oneself that acknowledges the gremlins at play and an understanding of which limiting beliefs are trying to take control. Not to mention, it involves momentary reliving of adverse childhood experiences. When you practice love and belonging as a parent, you realise it's not just for your children but for yourself too. It's a journey that requires the fighter in you.

Thankfully, I have measures in place that have made this journey easier. (These are from my L.O.V.E. Practice). Surprisingly, through this practice, I've become more compassionate—both towards myself and others. My children; being my closest others, experience this the most. Although I sometimes wish I had learned this earlier, I understand there’s a reason it came to me once I became a parent. I'm the same person but awakened differently.

So, what gets in the way of practicing love and belonging?

Shame. Fear. Resistance to vulnerability.

1. Shame

Shame is a gremlin I once thought only some people encountered, while others were lucky enough to avoid it. Joke's on me—shame is universal. It manifests differently in each of us, as it should.

What is shame?

I'll lean on Brené's definition, as I'm exploring it through her work. In "The Gifts of Imperfection" (pg. 53) and "Daring Greatly" (pg. 69), Brené defines shame as "the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging."

Shame and guilt are not the same. Shame is "I am bad," while guilt is "I did something bad."

I believe the pain associated with shame is why we're afraid to talk about it, which in turn gives it more control over our lives. For instance, as mothers, we internalise the message of needing to be perfect, playing into the illusion of perfection because no one is perfect! This pressure often starts in girlhood, but I'll focus on motherhood for simplicity. I believe that the more we strive for perfection, the more prevalent shame becomes, driving our decisions.

2. Fear

Fear is another universal gremlin. I see it as a multi-headed monster, fuelled by any of the 12 fundamental limiting beliefs we all have that run the show. Examples include the fear of not being enough or not belonging.

As Susan Jeffers said, "we deal with fear from a position of pain or a position of power." If we fear we're not enough, we might spend endless time doing things we dislike to feel adequate in someone else's eyes. Similarly, fearing we won't belong might lead us to compromise our values for acceptance. Both positions rely on external approval.

Fear can manifest in impactful or detrimental ways. For example, if I believe I need to be perfect, deep down, I'll fear being an awful parent, stemming from past adverse experiences. I can choose to use this fear for a powerful purpose by practicing self-compassion or let it lead me to believe I'm indeed an awful parent. Similarly, if I fear not being perceived as powerful, I might parent from a place of pain using harsh tactics or I can choose to acknowledge my differences and the trust my child places in me to improve and discipline with kindness. In my culture (as far as I know), parents didn’t apologise for mistakes, thinking it diminished their authority. However, I've found that apologising is powerful. When I say, "I'm sorry I did...," I see how my children look at me with admiration and engage in meaningful conversations. They even do the same with each other, which is a joy to witness. It's the connection we need to nurture for love to thrive.

3. Resistance to Vulnerability

Resistance to vulnerability is intriguing, not in a party-fuel sense, but as a silent igniter for fear and shame. I doubt shame and fear can exist without a resistance to vulnerability.

Shame is the fear of being unlovable, yet love requires us to let our most vulnerable selves be seen. When we feel shame, we want to hide, keep it secret, and worry about others' judgments. This fear stems from limiting beliefs like "I am unworthy" or "I am not good enough." No wonder we resist vulnerability. If vulnerability means accepting risk and uncertainty, what's the benefit of emotional exposure? (None, as we've been conditioned to believe). Why would I bare myself to potential hurt? So, we choose silence and secrecy to avoid judgment. We forget that our humanity lies beneath it all.

I recently experienced shame, fear, and resistance to vulnerability. Here's how it unfolded:

I repeatedly asked Oz to get dressed, but it fell on deaf ears. Eventually, I heard a door bang and I marched back to the bedroom. I opened the door which in-turn caught two of Oz’s toes. Instantly, I wanted to disappear. The pain in his wailing voice, my irritation at the situation, and the need to comfort him felt overwhelming. Amidst it all, the loudest thought was, "You are a bad mother. You are hurtful." To avoid saying something I'd regret, I walked away briefly but remembered that parenting doesn't allow you to turn away from your child's pain. I returned, comforted him through tears, and tended to his injury. The irritation bubbled, but I chose to wait until I completed my L.O.V.E practice.

When Oz finished dressing, I said, "I'm so sorry for catching your feet with the door. I didn't mean to do that."

"That's okay, mummy, it was an accident," Oz replied. "But mummy, you always say you're coming, but you didn't this time. Next time, say you're coming so I can move away from the door, okay?"

"Yes, I'll remember to do that. Thank you," I said, giggling.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, mummy," Oz added, surprising me since I hadn't mentioned how we got there.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Now let's go together," Oz said.

The exchange surprised me. I didn't expect such kindness, challenge, and embrace simultaneously. I was pleased he had the courage to speak up, and what I loved most was how normal it felt.

Over the next few days, Oz shared the event during bath times and with grandparents. It was tough to hear repeated, as it touched on all three aspects that hinder love and belonging. I resisted the urge to ask him to stop sharing, realising it would take away his story because of how I processed it. I reminded myself it was just a story, like dropping ice cream and getting upset.

Isn't it strange? A mishap can trigger shame, fear, and resistance to vulnerability. These aspects are part of daily interactions with others. It's a monstrosity to be aware of, or you'll remain blind to how you disconnect from those who could hold space for you and love you.

As you navigate your own journey of love and belonging, I encourage you to embrace vulnerability and face the gremlins of shame and fear head-on. Remember, it’s through these experiences that we grow stronger and more connected to those we love. Let’s commit to nurturing environments where authenticity thrives, both for ourselves and our children. Together, we can create spaces of unconditional love and acceptance, where everyone feels they truly belong.