First published on 06/12/2009 23:00
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I was going through my favorite book of quotations. And I happened to go through a quotation on love which seemed quite interesting to me. It goes like this-
"To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, and drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle round the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light."
I have many girls as friends who claim to have got the love of their lives.i find them doing nothing except sticking to phones...going out to meet him..Buy gifts for him...write poetries for him...make dishes for him...blah...blah...blah.they have practically no time for their careers or look into their lives to see what might be missing. They neglect everyone (nearly) in social life.family, friends. A few are in what they call “the love of their lives” kind of relationships. I’m happy for them—I really am. But I’m also scared for them. Here’s why. Their entire existence now revolves around their boyfriend’s availability. “I can’t talk right now, I’m waiting for his call.” “I’ll eat once we talk.” “I won’t go out tonight. She might text.” They buy gifts, write poems, spend weekends planning what to cook for him. Their conversations, calendars, even moods depend on him. I have one friend who is also doing law with me. A senior. Such a talented girl I tell you...a real iron rod when it comes to litigation. Extremely intelligent. But.....IN LOVE!!!!She doesn’t even know what she would do after two years when she completes law. She has dreams...good for her. Wants to become successful. But has got no strategy for it. On the flip side...another friend of mine...also doing law...a classmate, knows where she will be after four years. She knows what to be...and how to be...she is single you see...after all- "How in hell can you handle love without turning your life upside down? That’s what love does...it changes everything." We call it love. But sometimes, it’s just emotional dependency dressed in romance. Written by - Ankeita Bharadwaj We like to romanticise love as this glorious surrender, but is it really romantic when surrender turns into disappearance? I’m not judging. But love isn’t supposed to be a sacrifice of your identity but to be a celebration of it. Think of every Bollywood movie. Every novel. Every tragic romance. The person who waits. The person who gives up. The person who loves harder even when it hurts. We’re spoon-fed this narrative: the more you sacrifice, the purer your love. But is that really true? Or are we just glorifying emotional martyrdom? This isn’t love. It’s erasure. Love that demands your silence isn’t love—it’s control. Love that asks you to dim your light so someone else can shine brighter is not romantic—it’s manipulation. Even in modern stories, this subtle message lingers: that love means adjusting, tolerating, enduring. And we’re taught to feel guilty when we choose ourselves. But let me ask you—what’s romantic about loving someone so much that you forget to love yourself? This is where it gets mystical, but stay with me. When you fall in love, your aura—the invisible energy field around you—changes. You might glow differently. People might start saying, “You look happier.” Your skin glows, your eyes shine. You start noticing signs—angel numbers, serendipities, vivid dreams. That’s because love, especially mutual, soul-connected love, expands your energy field. It softens your edges. Opens your heart chakra. Makes you more receptive to the beauty around you. But here’s the catch—your aura also becomes more vulnerable. If the love is toxic, draining, or unreciprocated, your aura contracts. You feel tired all the time. Anxious. You overthink. Your sleep is disturbed. You’re either “on a high” or crashing. So yes—love changes your aura. But whether it’s for better or worse depends on the quality of love you’re allowing in. Read More: Sunny days & soul lessons: Why we fall for the wrong people Falling in love feels euphoric, right? Like a drug. And neuroscience backs this. When you're in love, your brain releases dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin—those feel-good chemicals that make you giddy, obsessed, sleepless. But just like a high, there's a crash if that love turns toxic or fades. You begin to doubt your worth. You feel spiritually exhausted, as if your soul went through a storm and came out damp. This is why it's crucial to anchor your energy during love. Meditate. Journal. Stay grounded in your routines. Connect to yourself as much as you connect to them. Love should lift your spirit, not drain your soul. There’s something sacred about holding a rose quartz close to your chest, especially when you're hurting or loving too much. I didn’t believe in crystals at first—I thought they were just pretty rocks. But after one too many emotional meltdowns and sleepless nights, I was willing to try anything. I walked into a tiny crystal shop, not really knowing what I needed. The shopkeeper handed me a smooth, pale pink stone and said, “Rose quartz. It reminds you to love you, first.” That hit me harder than expected. Rose quartz soothes your heart. It’s the “I forgive myself” stone. Rhodonite is for emotional wounds—especially when love leaves bruises that no one else can see. And moonstone? That one connects you to your inner divine feminine. It helps you listen to your intuition, even when love makes you deaf to your own voice. But it’s not just crystals. There are simple energy rituals too. Try this: Every night before bed, close your eyes and imagine a soft white light surrounding your body. Visualise it sealing you in a protective bubble. Inside that bubble, you are whole. You are safe. You are not defined by who texts you back or doesn’t. This is your energy field—and it’s sacred. Another powerful ritual? Cutting cords. If you’ve been in a relationship where the emotional attachment still lingers—even long after it’s ended—you might still be energetically “tied” to them. Visualise a cord between your heart and theirs, and gently imagine cutting it with golden scissors. Breathe. Let it go. This isn’t about being cold or dramatic. It’s about reclaiming your space. Do you use crystals or have a ritual that brings you peace in love? I’d genuinely love to hear what’s worked for you. Drop your thoughts in the comments—we’re all learning from each other here. Have you ever met someone and just known they were going to change your life? Like the universe dropped them into your world with a smirk, as if to say, “Good luck with this one.” That’s not coincidence. That’s soul contract stuff. You see, before we’re born (at least as many spiritual teachings suggest), we agree to meet certain people in this lifetime. People who will break us open, shake us awake, teach us, trigger us, and sometimes love us fiercely. These agreements are called karmic contracts. Not every person you’re drawn to is “the one.” Sometimes, they’re just the lesson. They show up because your energy field aligns with theirs—your wounds match, your patterns echo. It’s not fate being cruel. It’s your soul wanting to evolve. A karmic relationship will often feel intoxicating, fast, overwhelming. You'll learn deep truths, but you’ll also hurt deeply. And it’s not necessarily meant to last—it’s meant to teach. Soul-aligned love, on the other hand, feels different. Calmer. Safer. You grow, but gently. There’s room to breathe. And if you’re wondering, “Why do I keep attracting the wrong ones?”—ask yourself, “What lesson am I not learning yet?” When you learn the lesson, the pattern stops. And hey, if you’ve ever had a connection you couldn’t explain, I want to hear your story. Who was your karmic teacher? Share it in the comments—it might help someone else connect the dots in their journey too. Let’s talk about something tricky—when love confuses your gut. How do you know if someone is your soulmate… or just karma dressed in romance? Here’s what I’ve learned from both experience and heartbreak: Karmic relationships: Feel intense, like a fire that’s out of control. Are filled with emotional rollercoasters. Often start fast and burn out even faster. Leave you questioning yourself. Teach you painful but necessary lessons. Soulmate or soul-aligned love: Feels calm and steady—no games, no guessing. Encourages your growth, not guilt. Helps you feel more like yourself, not less. Has healthy communication. Feels like coming home, not surviving a storm. One of my past loves felt like a thunderstorm—passionate, and consuming. But looking back, I now know it was karma. We were meant to meet, clash, cry, and part ways. I left with scars, yes, but also clarity. Then I met someone else—kind, patient, soft-spoken. We weren’t explosive, but we were real.That kind of love? That was alignment. I know you might be in a karmic love right now, thinking it’s forever. Maybe it is. Or maybe it’s a chapter, not the whole story. And that’s okay. Have you experienced both types? Let’s talk about it in the comments. Your story might be someone else’s “aha” moment. Here’s the toughest pill to swallow: the people you love most are often mirrors. And they don’t just reflect your beauty—they reflect your wounds. Ever noticed how certain arguments keep happening? How certain behaviours from your partner trigger something so deep it scares you? That’s not by accident. That’s your subconscious showing up. Love triggers the abandoned child in you. The one who feared being left. The one who never felt seen or safe. That’s why you get attached too fast. Why you chase, or pull away, or people-please. You’re not reacting to your partner—you’re reacting to your pain. And once you realise that, everything changes. Start journaling. Don’t just vent—reflect. Ask: What does this remind me of from my past? Why does this hurt so much? Is this about him/her… or me? You’ll start to see patterns. Wounds that keep repeating until you finally tend to them. And that’s why love can be painful. Not because it’s cruel. But because it’s a mirror—and mirrors don’t lie. What’s one lesson a relationship has taught you about yourself? Leave a comment below. Let’s share. Ah, boundaries—the scariest word in love, right? It feels like drawing lines. Like telling someone “this is where I end, and you begin.” And for many of us, especially women taught to give, give, give—it feels selfish. But you know what’s selfish? Expecting someone to pour from an empty cup. Boundaries aren’t walls. They’re doorways. They teach people how to treat you. Saying “no” doesn’t make you cold. It makes you clear. I’ve learned this the hard way—after burning out emotionally. After bending so far backwards in relationships that I didn’t recognise myself. Now I say: “I can’t talk right now, but I’ll call you tomorrow.” “This doesn’t feel respectful, and I won’t accept it.” “I love you, but I also love me.” Love without boundaries is chaos. It’s confusion. It’s resentment brewing quietly. But love with boundaries? It’s freedom. It’s safety. It’s two whole people choosing each other—not needing each other to feel whole. This is the essence of LOVE and BOUNDARIES. Not either-or. Both. What boundary did you once struggle to set—but now hold strong? Tell us in the comments. Your courage might inspire someone else today. Love can get possessive. Not just the person, but the feeling itself. It wraps around you like a blanket so warm that you don’t realise it’s also tying your hands. You stop meeting your friends. Your cousin’s birthday goes unnoticed. You skip family dinners because your partner “doesn’t feel like going.” Slowly, the circle of your life gets smaller and smaller… until it’s just you and them. And that would be fine if it was a forever thing. But when it ends? It’s like waking up in a new city with no map, no phone, and no one to call. I’ve seen it happen. That girl in love, who used to light up every debate in law school, now quietly scrolling through photos of a boy who barely listens to her. Another friend who ghosted our entire group for a year because her boyfriend was “jealous” of her guy friends. When I finally asked her, “Why did you let him isolate you?” she whispered, “Because I thought that’s what being in love meant.” But it’s not. Being in love should expand your world, not shrink it. Your people—your tribe—are your soul’s safety net. Neglecting them for romantic love often means having no emotional cushion when it all collapses. This is your gentle reminder: friendships matter. Family matters. Your career, your passions, your you-ness matters. And if you're starting to feel like love is costing you all of that, ask yourself honestly—what kind of price is that to pay? If you’ve ever felt isolated in a relationship, or reconnected with people you lost to love, I’d love to hear your story. Share in the comments—you never know who might relate. The short answer? Yes. But it’s rare. And it takes work. We’ve been taught to choose. “Career or love?” “Ambition or affection?” Why not both? You can be hopelessly in love and still be laser-focused on your dreams. But you’ve got to stop treating love like a full-time job. Let it be your co-pilot, not your steering wheel. Love isn’t supposed to derail your ambition—it should amplify it. I want to hear from you—have you ever felt torn between love and career? What helped you stay grounded? Let’s make the comments section a space of shared wisdom. Sometimes, the cost of love is silence. The silence of creativity unexpressed. Of calls never made. Of friendships that fade. Of dreams you once wrote in journals now collecting dust under your bed. When you give all of yourself to someone and leave nothing for you, what remains after they’re gone? That’s the question no one asks until it’s too late. You think love is enough. But one day, you look in the mirror and realise you don’t know who you are anymore. You don’t remember what made you laugh when no one was watching. You don’t know what your own goals are outside “us.” I’ve seen people, brilliant and bold, reduced to shadows because they thought love demanded it. It doesn’t. And it shouldn’t. The cost of losing yourself in love is a life half-lived. And darling, you deserve the whole thing. Have you ever had to rebuild yourself after giving too much in a relationship? How did you find your way back? Your comment could be the balm someone else needs right now. Ah, the wreckage. When the “forever” ends. When the phone stops ringing, and the quiet gets so loud it hurts your bones. But also—this is the beginning. Here’s what helped me and so many others I’ve known: Grieve it fully. Don’t numb it. Feel it all. Cry until your ribs hurt. Delete or archive the memories. You don’t have to burn them. But don’t stare at them either. Reconnect. With friends. With books. With hobbies. With your body. Seek therapy. It’s not weakness—it’s wisdom. Write letters you don’t send. Pour it out. All of it. Create something. Even if it’s messy. Paint. Cook. Dance. Reclaim your spark. You won’t feel like yourself for a while. But slowly, you’ll meet yourself again. The person who used to laugh with whole belly. The one who had plans. The one who dreamed in colour. If you’ve been there—tell me: what helped you heal? Let’s share our tools. Someone reading this might be in the thick of it. Let’s end with a vision. Imagine a love that doesn’t ask you to be smaller. That claps for your success louder than anyone else. That holds you when you cry—but never makes you feel weak for doing so. A love that makes you more you. That’s the kind of love I want for you. And me. And all of us. Because love isn’t supposed to be a full stop. It’s a comma—something that adds to the sentence of your life, not ends it. So let’s stop glorifying chaos. Let’s stop equating pain with passion. Let’s stop calling red flags “romance.” Let’s choose love that’s grounded. Expansive. Healing. That’s where we draw the line. That’s where love and BOUNDARIES come together—where love doesn’t devour, but dances with us. What kind of love are you choosing now? Tell me in the comments. Let's rewrite the story—together. Let me start with a story of Zinnia. A few years ago, she met someone who felt… familiar. Not in a déjà vu kind of way, but like her soul exhaled when she saw him. There was an instant connection, one that defied logic. They were finishing each other’s sentences by week two, talking about childhood wounds like they’d known each other for lifetimes. And maybe they had. Here’s where it gets spiritual: Many ancient traditions and philosophies—like Hinduism, Sufism, and even Kabbalah—believe we carry soul contracts from past lives. These are unfinished emotional or karmic threads with other souls, woven through time, reincarnation after reincarnation. We don’t meet people by accident—we attract them, energetically. These attractions are like magnets. It’s not always about “good vibes” either. Sometimes, we’re drawn to people who reflect the very parts of us we haven’t healed. They bring the wound and the opportunity to finally face it. You ever meet someone and think, “Why am I so obsessed? This doesn’t even make sense.” That’s not chemistry. That’s karma. When two souls meet, they bring their entire energetic history with them. Your wounds meet theirs. Your patterns, their patterns. This is why karmic relationships often feel so intense, yet chaotic. You’re not just dating a person—you’re navigating two soul timelines clashing and collapsing. Want to know if it's karmic? It’s dramatic, magnetic, and addictive. You’re triggered a lot. You feel “unfinished” when they leave—like the story isn’t over. You can’t think straight around them. Logic flies out the window. Now, here’s the beautiful part: once you become conscious of these dynamics, you can break the cycle. Start with journaling prompts like: What does this person make me feel about myself? What patterns keep repeating in my relationships? Who in my past do they remind me of? The goal is to understand. Because once you know why your soul brought them into your life, you get to choose whether to repeat the lesson… or finally graduate. Soul-aligned love feels radically different. It’s peaceful. It supports your growth. It doesn’t burn you—it warms you. Maybe that’s the ultimate meaning of love—not to complete us, but to help us remember who we are. Have you ever experienced a connection that felt like it came from another lifetime? Share it below—I’d be honoured to read your story.
👉 Explore this more deeply in this post on karmic patterns and love Yes. And we must. Because love, in its truest, most beautiful form, isn’t about disappearing. It’s about expanding—about becoming more of who you are, not less. We’ve all been there. In love so intense it feels like it might swallow you whole. And maybe it did. Maybe you lost touch with your friends, your goals, your sense of self. Maybe you made someone else the centre of your solar system and forgot you had your own gravity. That doesn’t make you foolish. That makes you human. Here’s the beautiful truth—you can always come back to yourself. And the next time? You’ll love differently. Wiser. Softer. Braver. You’ll love with boundaries, and that love will be even more powerful. Because the kind of love that survives isn’t the one that consumes you. It’s the one that holds you, respects you, roots for you. It’s the love that says: “I love all of you. Even the parts that don’t belong to me.” So if you're in love, falling out of love, or nursing a broken heart right now—this is your sign to pause and ask: Am I still here? If the answer is “barely,” then, it’s time to come home to yourself. We’ve all been there. And we all rise again. If this resonated with you, let’s make this more than a monologue—make it a conversation. Tell me your story in the comments. What did love teach you? Where are you now? We are in this together. Tushar Mangl is a counsellor, Vastu expert, and author of I Will Do It and Ardika. He writes on themes of love, life design, Vastu, mental health, books, finance, and balanced living. “I help unseen souls design lives, spaces, and relationships that heal and elevate—through ancient wisdom, energetic alignment, and grounded action.” Note: For more inspiring insights, subscribe to the YouTube Channel at Tushar Mangl or follow on Instagram at @TusharMangl
What does it mean to love so deeply you lose yourself?
Why do we romanticise self-sacrifice in love?
What happens to your aura when you are in love?
Can love be spiritually expansive—Or just draining?
What crystals and rituals protect your energy in love?
What’s the spiritual meaning of love—And why do we attract certain people?
Is it karma or soulmate—How do you know?
Is love reflecting back your inner wounds?
How do we set boundaries without closing our hearts?
What happens to friendships, dreams, and family when love takes over?
Can you be madly in love and madly ambitious?
What’s the cost of losing yourself in love?
How do you rebuild yourself after love ends?
What if we chose love that expands us—Not consumes us?
Why do we attract the people we do—Is it fate, energy, or an unfinished soul contract?
So, can we love deeply without losing ourselves?
FAQs
1. How do I know if love is making me lose myself?
2. Can spiritual tools like crystals really help in relationships?
3. How can I set healthy boundaries without pushing my partner away?
4. What is the difference between a soulmate and a karmic partner?
5. What are signs that love is energetically draining me?
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