In an episode of the original Star Trek, it is said that the phrase “Let me help.” is more powerful than “I love you.”

I, for my entire life, have struggled with the concept of love. Familial, romantic, and platonic. Growing up in the environment I did, there was no real support network and barely anyone around. I grew up alone and with no one to guide me through those feelings. I was often left to entertain myself and to explore the world, either outside or imaginary. When I did interact with my parents, I was shamed for my interests, ideas, or even feelings. Sadness and anger were banned. I was supposed to be a happy child. Anything else would lead to punishment. A lot of things led to punishment.

A lot of my adult life has been me in practice and in therapy unlearning a lot of lessons from my upbringing and fighting like hell to think in a more neurotypical fashion. I’m proud of the work I’ve done to try and improve, but there are still these flickers and moments of the past that pop up. Traumas that impact me to this day. It’s manageable now with me utilizing better coping mechanisms and responses, but it still hurts a little. Just a little.

Back then, there wasn’t really anything comforting about home. There were arguments and fights. Sex offending family members, hard drug users shooting up in the basement, Neo-Nazism clashing with a mixed race family, holes punched in walls, and guilt. I had a gun waved in my face with intent to kill before I could even read. I remember thinking I could dodge the bullet. I was bullied by my parents all throughout my young life. As a child and teen, I was blamed for things beyond my control. It was hard.

As scary as it was, I did have one person who tried her best to spend time with me and take me out of the house. We created some of the happier moments of my childhood. My half-sister Christin and I. Then, she took her own life. There wasn’t much for me to do about that. In my grief, my family told me we just needed to pretend that she didn’t exist.

The only positive person who gave me unconditional love and I was told to simply forget about her.

Ever since I was little, I was raised to be afraid of my emotions. Of grief, anger, sadness. I’d been trained to never let negativity show. To wash over myself in a toxic positivity that made me nothing but depressed. I dreaded every day of my life. Then came this great big pit in my heart that felt like a screaming void. This unrecognizing blindness that treated everything with apathy and meanness. I could be a bully. I could be cruel. That’s how I’d get the power back. But, acting horrible only greets you with more misery in return.

However, there were people who helped me out of that hole. My half-sister Marie, for example, became a new fixture in my life and spent more time with me. My Aunt Pat would invite me to her home and let me talk freely about my problems. I had friends who would do stuff with me, but I can’t say I was a very stable friend, often causing dramas. However, one constant had been my friend Jonah, who is still my best friend to this day. It would seem no matter how hard the awfulness persisted, there was this path to normalcy being paved.

I, in large part, formed it. A bizarre and unpredictable incident happened in my preteens which taught me an unfortunate lesson: no one is coming to save you. This taught me to be independent and, if I wanted to be free, I had to get out on my own. That created more problems at home. But, I wanted more in life. I needed more.

A few years after that, my father then died and there left the one person trying so hard to keep me under a boot. The man who fought against everything I ever did or wanted to do was gone. I genuinely was free and, for the first time in my life, I was happy. I was happy and all it took was to lose a parent. To some of you, that might a horrific thing for a person to admit, but you try living under that roof and see how you’d turn out.

Since then, I’ve lived a wonderful and strange life so far of my own design by my own rules (mostly).

But, what about that hole? That terrible void? Did it ever go away? Well, here’s the kicker. I thought for the longest time that, if I found a great romantic love, then it’d be whole. A stupid idea now, but it was the last piece of the puzzle. The one thing I never really had.

I’d had girlfriends, flings, and crushes across my life. I experimented, learnt more about people outside the gender spectrum, practiced dating outside of monogamy, and more. But, I was never really in a relationship. I was always very scared to let anyone into my life. I wasn’t the best partner when I was younger. Some would argue I’m still not. I can be selfish and prideful and anxious. I didn’t know how to love in any way and I couldn’t let anyone love me back. I didn’t deserve it or didn’t earn it or it wasn’t real enough. A laundry list of excuses to run away and not express myself. I didn’t want to let anyone in. I didn’t think anyone could love me genuinely.

I’ve been what I consider to be properly in love a handful of times. My longest relationship was three years and it was a mix of the most stable and somehow the most turbulent. All I can sum it up as is with this one experience. There was this day when I was doing the dishes in the middle of the night staring out of the window into the dark of the backyard feeling lost and alone and cut off from all of friends and family. This hollow moment punctuated by the thought of “This is your life now.” and being horrified by this realization. However, I was very scared to let go. I didn’t think anyone else could ever love me. That I could ever find another home. But, if I wanted to save my happiness, I needed to let go.

Once I ended that, I’ve since been learning to be single again and it’s fucking weird. While I have attempted dating and connecting with new people, I’ve spent more time reconnecting with myself again and everybody in my life.

And that’s what filled the hole.

You see, I’d spent so much time looking for this mythical love that could cure my inner void. Then, upon returning to my friends and family, I was welcomed back with open arms. That’s when it finally clicked, everything I needed was right there from the beginning.

It was a beautiful feeling.

I guess the point of all of this is to say that love is not always this clear-cut thing. I have met people who say that they love me but do nothing else. Only words. The real people who matter are the people who are there. The people who help. Not only that, but the people you wish to help in return.

That’s what real love is: being there for someone when they need you. To meet words with actions. To show someone on every level that you say what you mean and mean what you say.

Look for someone who will meet you with “Let me help.” because “I love you.” is never enough.