Hxdream

This past week, I had an experience that felt like the opening of a portal—an invitation to see life, and myself, in a new way. In that moment, I had a choice.

Instead of reacting automatically, stuck in the patterns of my past, it felt like time paused. I could see everything—the ego’s reaction, my higher self’s calm guidance, and the space in between where the choice lived.

This experience opened my eyes to something profound: how deeply conditioned love was for me growing up. Love always came with strings attached, and I learned to give it the same way. It’s no wonder I carried that into adulthood, where my relationships were built on conditions and expectations.

We often think we understand the difference between conditional and unconditional love, but understanding it in theory is so different from living it. Conditional love was the water I swam in, the air I breathed—I didn’t even realize it was there.

How could I not have seen it sooner?

When something is all you’ve ever known, it’s invisible. Toxic patterns don’t stand out when they feel normal.

But in this moment, everything became clear. There were no villains or victims in what I was witnessing—just people shaped by their own experiences of conditional love. I saw my ego and inner child aching to be heard, and I chose to acknowledge their pain. But I didn’t let them lead. Instead, I let my higher self step in, guiding me with love and truth.

I was faced with a choice: I could react from my own hurt and project that pain outward, or I could step back, see the pain of the other person, and take ownership where I could.

Here’s what happened. My mom expressed how upset she was that neither my sister nor I planned to attend Thanksgiving dinner. Her feelings came out in a wave of guilt, shame, and anger. Her words were sharp and hurtful, and at the end of it all, she withdrew her offer to watch my puppy, Toby.

In the past, I might have responded with defensiveness or anger, but this time was different. I chose to hear her hurt, even through the intensity of her words. I replied simply and kindly:

“I completely understand how you feel, and yes, I will make other arrangements for Toby.”

Even though I felt calm as I wrote those words, there was a quiet fear under the surface—my ego whispering doubts and questions. But alongside the fear, there was also a deep sense of trust. I knew I would find a solution. Within ten hours, I had arranged alternative care for Toby.

As I reflected on the experience, a wave of emotions surfaced—disappointment, grief, and a nagging feeling that there was something deeper I needed to uncover. I allowed myself to sit with those feelings, knowing they had something to teach me.

Once I had made arrangements for Toby, I reached out to my mom. I apologized—because I wanted her to feel seen. “I’m sorry for being selfish,” I said, even though my choice were not selfish. Yet,I could understand why it felt that way to her, and through that understanding, I chose to respond with compassion.

Her reply was not surprising. She offered to watch Toby again, since I had apologized. I thanked her for the offer but let her know I’d stick with the arrangements I had made.

I wasn’t apologizing to earn back her love. I wasn’t trying to change her mind. My apology was simply an acknowledgment of her feelings, with no strings attached.

And that’s when I saw it—the dynamic that had shaped so much of my relationship with my mom. Her love, had always been intertwined with control and conditions.

This realization wasn’t about blame; it was about understanding. My mom’s way of loving wasn’t her fault—it was what she had been taught. She grew up in a culture where love was conditional: “If you behave this way, you’re loved. If not, you’re rejected.” That pattern carried into her parenting, and I, unknowingly, had carried it into my own life.

I saw it most clearly in my relationship with Toby.

When I first brought Toby home, I struggled to bond with him. Every time he misbehaved, I felt frustration bubbling over. I yelled. I spanked him. I even considered giving him away. It hurts to admit that now, but it’s the truth.

Looking back, I see so much of my mom in those moments—reacting from a place of anger and control rather than love.

Something began to shift after an Owaken event in Phoenix. Daily breathwork helped me see Toby through new eyes. I started to let him express himself while still maintaining boundaries. I stopped reacting from anger and started responding from a place of calm.

Even then, I knew something was missing.

And then this experience with my mom unlocked it all. I realized how much I truly love Toby—his quirks, his mistakes, all of him. He wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t have to be. He was enough, just as he was.

This is what I’ve come to understand about unconditional love:

• It’s loving someone, flaws and all, while still setting boundaries that honor both of you.
• It’s seeing the humanity in others and in yourself—knowing perfection isn’t required to be deserving of love.
• It’s staying open to hard conversations, expressing hurt without blame, and finding a way to move forward together.
• It’s choosing love, again and again, even when it’s hard.

Unconditional love doesn’t mean accepting harmful behavior, nor does it mean cutting someone off at the first mistake. It’s about showing up—for them and for yourself—with honesty, compassion, and respect.

It’s the kind of love that remains steady through every twist and turn, because it’s rooted not in conditions, but in truth.