What I’ve come to realize is, if there’s nothing but indignity and fear, it’s not love.
Cecilie Roos

I really enjoy your writing, Cecilie. It’s very honest and insightful, in addition to be well written.

Many of the words you used to describe your love for your child are the same I would use to describe romantic love.

I’m not saying those loves are the same, nor am I suggesting they are equal, but the words you chose are similar to words I would have chosen.

“It’s not just an emotion, it’s an almost physical sensation. It’s this deep, primal acknowledgement of another human being’s existence in your life”


Some people will tell you it’s a lie. I won’t out and out say they are wrong, but I have experienced it several times… recently, as a matter of fact. The thing people get wrong is the expectation. It’s not something that can remain active all the time. Not only does it become exhausting, but, like a drug, the tolerance builds until you need toxic levels to get the same high… and that metaphor is not incidental. There’s not a drug I’ve ever tried that comes anywhere close.

It remains passive, just under the surface, and as long as you remember it’s there and bring it out from time to time, it’s sustainable, barring other elements working against the relationship.

I’m not a typical case, though. I’m an artist and I indulge in inadvisable levels of passion in order to push my expression to the point I can be somewhat satisfied with. For most people that’s a recipe for disaster... and, well, it is for me too, but I sort of deal in disaster.

Here’s a example of me trying to describe it:

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