The hard love is telling your daughter the truth. The truth about where she came from, what she’s been through and what she’s seen. Even when she’s small, and fragile… because, it is her truth, and she has flashes of memories she may not understand.
The hard love is telling your children you are disappointed in their far too grown up choices, and loving them anyway.
The hard love is the love whose heart breaks when your kid’s hearts break.
The hard love is the love that candidly looks at yourself in the mirror, every morning, with a pair of honest goggles. It is the love that looks at your insides too.
This is the love that can one day look your husband in the eyes, years after fighting, and crying and aching and finally- forgiveness… It is the love that gets me to the point of no longer wondering what she looks like, or what her perfume smells of. This is the love that kept me sane when he would travel for work.
The hard love is love, period… It is the take-everything-from-me sort of love, because the person on the receiving end deserves it.
Even when they choose the easy love route back…