You know, I realized a long time ago that faith is not about rules, or prohibitions, or being "better" than someone else. It's more like an internal compass. Or even... an anchor. When everything around you is stormy - work, personal life, news, emotions - it doesn't let you fly away. It reminds you who you are and why you're here. Not in a global, not pompous way - just humanly.

You've probably noticed how often in a couple we start to demand, take offense, build expectations instead of trusting. It seems to me that everything starts with a simple question: "Do I even believe that the other person wants the best for me?" Or am I initially ready to defend myself, control, check? And here faith - that same inner faith - does a huge job. It teaches you to let go. Not to cling. Not to be afraid.

I have often encountered situations when it would have been easier to close myself off. To go into resentment, silence, into “oh well, I’m fine on my own.” You probably know this. We all get tired of uncertainty, of repetition, of pain. But every time I chose to stay, to talk, to forgive - my faith helped me. Because I saw in the other person not a “mistake”, but vulnerability. And I learned to look at him with the eyes with which God looks at me, not judging, but accepting.

There is one thing in Catholicism that I really love - the sacrament of confession. Not because someone scolds you or shames you there, not at all. This is a place where you come and admit “Yes, I was weak. Yes, I failed. But I want to try again.” And they tell you “You are not alone. You are heard. You are forgiven.” I would like something similar in relationships. For people not to be afraid to be vulnerable, to make mistakes, to ask for forgiveness. And — most importantly — to accept this forgiveness.

Faith does not make you a saint. It makes you more patient. Calmer. You have something to lean on when something collapses. Not only in relationships, but in life in general. You stop panicking because you know — even if you stumble, you will be caught. You do not have to control everything. You can just be there.

It seems to me that today many of us lack this — to be there. Not to fight for power, not to convince, not to argue. But just to be. To support. To listen. And to be silent, if necessary. You can do this with faith, you can do it without it. But with it — for me personally — it is easier. Because I know for sure: when I love, I am not alone. This love is a part of something bigger.

My girlfriends ask me: "What do you want anyway?" And you know, I don't want an ideal. I don't want a "list of qualities." I want someone who can forgive. Who can ask. Who can talk. Who won't be scared if I break down in something. And to whom I can say: "You don't have to be strong all the time. It's important to me that you are real."

Lana Banana