This is a rough topic for me. I don't love my family as NTs seem to. I see them as a resource, for lack of a better word, that I have been given for the rest of their lives. They have always been more of a support system than a family to me. I appreciate the assistance they provide me and the things they do for me, butI wouldn't describe that as love. Maybe dependency? That being said, I only trust one member of my family, my oldest sister, which is likely because I ever had a relationship with her when I was young, and my relationship with her "began" when I was 19'and she was 24. She gave me drinking advice to try to keep me safe. (She didn't know I already drank). She lives hundreds of miles from me, and we speak a couple times a year. That's my ideal family member.
My other sister "bullied" me my entire life (bullied is in parenthesis due to my lack of understanding of implication and sarcasm, and I have to be open to the possibility I experienced the negative things I did do to my autism and lack of knowledge of being on the spectrum). I felt bullied, abused (not physically), and misunderstood my life. Because of that, I cannot trust her.
My relationship with my parents are finicky. They are very spiritual. I tried being involved in their beliefs, but that just lead me to being atheist (more so agnostic, as I cannot say god is real not fake due to the lack of supporting facts on each side). Quickly after this, I realized my relationship with my parents was different than others. I quickly realized I didn't share the emotion for my family they share for me. I told them this, and despite that, they still seem to "love" me. I'll never understand that.
My hypothesis is we experience love differently, as we do many other feelings and emotions. I spent a few months with a friend who I had feelings for, which was very strange as I had never felt this way. My love for someone is shown by being able to sit in silence in a room with them, and being able to say things with no repercussion. Being in love with them is wanting to to be sitting alone with them, regardless of the activity. I just enjoyed being with her. Her presence lit a fire in my heart, like a burning exstacy, but I compared that to love I experienced on tv or through observing my friends' relationships. I'm also sure I was pretty blank emotionally as I remember her always asking if I was okay, though to be fair, this time frame was my first taste of being suicidal as well, so I wasn't okay, except when I was her.
I'm not going to finish that story as it ends with her saying "I'm sorry, but I can never talk to you again", but it's been 2 or 3 years now, and she's the only person I've never been able to let go of. I think of her nearly every day. I think that's love? I don't know. Maybe I'll experience it again. Maybe I won't. I guess that's "love", or something. I hope this jumbled mess of a thought process helps someone!