Haggart’s 1801

I FALL IN LOVE CONSTANTLY. All the time. I fall in love with ideas and I fall in love with the laughter of children. I fall in love with movies and I fall in love with recipes. I fall in love with the waiter who describes a wine perfectly and I fall in love with the handsome single man who volunteers at church. I fall in love with meals and I fall in love with jackets from shops in Aberfeldy, Scotland.

Haggart’s 1801, a little shop in Aberfeldy, Scotland, wasn’t even open when we walked by in the late afternoon on an August day. But I looked in the window and absolutely loved everything. There were three of us. My American friend Laura, my Scottish friend Ciara, and me. Ciara knew the shop owner, Ryan Hannigan, was inside so she opened the door and invited us in. Ryan was kind and let us look through what he was making, and in less than one second, I fell in love with a jacket. His custom tweed lined the inside of a grey vintage Swiss army jacket. The buttons were perfect, and soon I was begging him to sell me a jacket on a day his shop wasn’t even open. But I was in love. (I still am. I love that jacket so much.)

And I’m not being insensitive or crass with the word love like they used to tell us in church—that people use love too liberally and don’t really know what it means . . . blah blah blah. I absolutely mean this. I feel love big. I feel everything very big. I don’t feel one thing small. I feel big happy and big sad. I feel big excitement and big yikes. I feel big anger and big love. It’s just all big.

I used to dislike that about me. That everything was BIG.

I’ve been intentional about walking toward emotional health these past few years. Counseling, whether it’s weekly or monthly, has been such an important part of my healing and growth. My counselor and I have talked through some really challenging pains and decisions and I know, no doubt, that I am a better thinker, decision maker, faith person, friend, and romantic partner than I’ve ever been before. And here’s what else is true—the big hasn’t gotten smaller. I haven’t felt things less. Ten years ago, when I started on this path of really wanting to get some help with my thinking and feeling, I would have thought that going to counseling would make my BIGs smaller. But it hasn’t. If anything has changed, it is that the range of my emotions has increased. The depth is the same, but now I can call each emotion by its actual name. But they’re all still big.

And I cannot hide that. Sometimes I wish I could. I wish I could tone down what I feel. As I’ve matured, I have been able to better control my physical and immediate responses, but what I feel is still, well, big. A guy told me once that he knew exactly how I felt about him because I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don’t know that he meant it as a criticism, but I’m fairly certain he didn’t mean it as a blessing or a compliment. I was scared of that fact for a few weeks, and then I realized that, yes, whether I liked it or not, my heart is absolutely positioned on my sleeve for all to see.

It works to my benefit most days. My friends know I REALLY love them. The people I am with have no question about where I want to be. My favorite stores know it, my favorite restaurants know it; my podcast listeners know it. They know what I love and who I love and what things cycle in and out of my life based on who I’m quoting and what I’m talking about. My heart is on my sleeve because in the truest sense of the phrase, that is just how God made me.

So I love big and I love a lot. In the same way that wisdom sometimes looks like holding back our words, it also sometimes looks like holding back our love—feeling it, yes, but not allowing it to leak out quite so early—whether it’s a love for a burrito or a dude. But holding back how much I share doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. And the more days I live on this planet, the more I am learning that I don’t have to control my feelings. They are allowed to ride along with me anywhere I go; they just aren’t the best drivers. I need to feel them and hear them and pay attention to them but not let them lead the way.

Love can lead though.

It’s powerful to let yourself fall in love with something (or someone). It shows a level of vulnerability when you admit to yourself that the emotion you feel is love. For some reason there’s an understanding in Western culture, probably mostly in men but often in women as well, that says we have to hold back our love. Don’t get too excited, don’t get too into something, be balanced and cool and don’t let anyone know how stoked you are. I’m calling a BIG NOPE on that because that’s not being wise; that’s being scared. Scared to stand out. Scared to tell the truth. Scared to really like something that other people don’t really like (that you know of).

You want to learn to have fun? FALL IN LOVE. Fall in love over and over every day with something and maybe someone. Yes, it is going to hurt. But here’s the thing about love and vulnerability and saying yes to the big feelings even when they are scary: it makes your heart beat hard and fast. And that’s a good reminder that you are not dead. Because you aren’t. The thing you thought would kill you did not kill you. You lived. You are living. I hope every time you fall in love with a new pair of shoes or a soccer team or a person who has treated you better than you thought you could be treated reminds you of how very alive you are.