On Unconditional Love

Today, I had a break down over $66.10. It wasn't exactly because of the money, but it was. I am without a job, living with my fiancée's parents. My psychiatrist has been dragging her feet on sending my prescription through medicaid, and I'd been fighting with the office for over a week to get it filled before I just bit the bullet tonight. I knew I would have to pay something since my last psychiatrist was not through medicaid. I just didn't think it would be $66.10.

I thought it would be closer to $20, and that was a price I was willing to ask for help on. $66.10 seems like so much money to me right now, and I've never been comfortable asking for help financially, so when I got that price at the drive-up window at my pharmacy, my fiancée had to reassure me multiple times that it was okay. That her parents wouldn't be mad at me for spending that money.

I broke down because I couldn't really believe that it would be okay. That I wouldn't be thrown out. That I was considered 'family' enough to be privy to this kind of money. That I wasn't a leech or a mooch. That I was worthy.

Back in May, I was thrown out of my home over $65. I had just been in the hospital for my Crohn's disease, I hadn't been working as much due to several flares of this, as well as a stay in the mental hospital. It was the height of the pandemic. I was missing $65 in rent, of a total of a $300 bill. This was owed to my mother. My mother threw me out over $65, when she got a majority of a $300 bill. She cancelled my phone plan and my car insurance while she was at it. I was to find a place to stay by that night and have all of my shit moved out as soon as possible.

That day, I came to my fiancée's house and met her parents for the first time. The very first thing her mom did was give me $100. The very next thing she did was show me around the house in case I wound up living with them. A wonderful woman I had never met was willing to take me into her home. Of course, I was still in the middle of my learning how to ask for help when I need it and not being comfortable in imposing myself on people who didn't know me phase at that time, so I wound up staying with my aunt for awhile.

When my aunt threw me out over a slightly messy room, well, I wound up back at my fiancée's parents' place for a time, then we moved into an apartment funded by my fiancée's ex. When we both lost our jobs, we knew we'd be moving into her parent's place again.

Living here has been hard. Not because these people are bad people. In fact, it's quite the opposite. These are very, very, very good people. I have never, ever known kindness like the kind I have found in this home. This home is so full of joy and love. This home has a warmth that my mother's never did. Her home was always so sterile, so clean, like something out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. In this home, there are shelves full of books and knick-knacks, leaves on the hardwood floor that take three weeks to get vacuumed up, a bay window that's been a project since about May, clutter on the table, blankets and stuffies galore, beautiful but random art, and the brightest orange walls you ever did see. There's a lovely little dog that smells but is the biggest lover, two adorable kitties. All the games you could imagine or want. The cupboards are always stocked and anyone can eat anything at anytime. There are no "sleep schedules." There are no expectations or even want for rent (a pill that has been hard for me to swallow). There are no chores, even, unless you want to do them.

This has been hard for me because it's such a paradigm shift from what I am used to. I'm used to walking on eggshells, to being ready for the other shoe to drop, to always being on edge and defensive. I'm used to not sleeping or only getting the bare minimum of sleep due to anxiety - and any sleep I do get not being very restful. I'm used to not dreaming. I'm used to my mother coming home and my hackles immediately being raised in case she had a bad day and I had to field those emotions. I'm used to waking up and being on watch in case I happened to do something to piss her off that I was unaware of. I'm used to coming home from friend's homes with a pit of anxiety in my stomach wondering if she'd found something to be angry about while I was gone. I'm used to the blatant transphobia and misgendering and deadnaming.

When I brought up to her the way that I'd been feeling around her, it was "If you feel that way, why don't you just leave?" It was never, "I'm sorry I've made you feel that way, maybe we can find a compromise and a way for you to trust me again." It was never "I can recognize my actions hurt you, and I'll try to do better going forward." When I talked with my parents after my hospitalization for my suicidal ideation, my dad cried and promised to try to do better. My mom refused to believe she'd done anything wrong and said I was pointing fingers, that I needed to take responsibility for my own actions.

It's been hard to relax, but little by little I have been. I've been here just over a month or so now. I sleep now, and well, and whenever I'm tired instead of when it's deemed acceptable. I dream, too. I don't get tension headaches nearly as much. My anxiety is manageable. I talk more, and get involved in conversations. I laugh more. I smile more. Everything feels more manageable. I've been trying to get financial aid for my medical bills for almost four years, and have been putting it off because it just felt so overwhelming on top of everything else. I have finally been able to do that, and even had help getting all the documentation together. I don't fidget nearly as much. I've started to be able to cry. I never used to be able to cry, because I was punished for showing emotion, so I would just stuff it down. I've cried so much in the past month and, God, does it feel good.

As Christmas comes around, I'm getting a little sad, because it's the first Christmas I'm having away from my blood family, and unexpectedly so. There are traditions I'm going to miss. But, at the same time, I'm excited for the traditions of my new family. They do a live tree, which is currently sitting next to me, lit up with these colorful, gaudy lights, smelling oh, so nice, as I type this out. Waffles on Christmas morning, ham Christmas night. Decorating was a three day affair without any rush (at Mom's, it was wake up and get it done in one day, or else). Advent candles lit every night - I've never done this before and it's so exciting for me! I mentioned that I would miss doing Christmas pajamas, and my fiancée brought it up to the family and they are adopting that so that I don't feel as sad. They're making sure to put down a tree skirt so the kitty I brought will feel comfortable (he loves tree skirts, I have no idea why...) They also said I could meet with my Dad and his girlfriend, and my brother, which is huge because we've been quarantining hardcore due to COVID-19. I, of course, will be doing all of the proper social distancing, but just the gesture in and of itself made me feel so loved.

I think that's also what is hard for me. Feeling loved. I didn't know unconditional love until I met my fiancée, and I didn't know unconditional familial love until I met her family. My dad and my brother have certainly tried to be unconditional, but this family is truly so, and they have extended that love to me. It's overwhelming at the same time as it's wonderful. Tonight being a perfect example; when we came home and explained to my fiancée's mom that I was nervous about the money spent on my medication, she spent about an hour reassuring me that if she didn't have the money, she wouldn't've given me her card to use, that she loved me, that I was a part of the family, that I was worthy, and that she would never be mad about something out of my control like that.

In a weird way, I feel really lucky that my mom threw me out. If she hadn't, I don't know that I would've made this connection with my new family in the same way. I don't know that I would've felt this deep, unconditional love. In a weird way, she did me a favor. I'm much happy and more relaxed now than I have ever been. I finally feel hopeful that I have a place in the world and that I'm not just a failure, and that is in large part due to my fiancée's family.

Cynthia & Jim, if you're reading this, thank you for opening your home to me and treating me with kindness. I am grateful beyond words. Thank you for having a home so full of joy and light and laughter. Thank you for making me feel welcome and useful and worthy. Thank you for raising a beautiful daughter who has the audacity to ask a guy out for tacos on a Monday night, of all nights. But mostly, thanks for being the people that you are. I couldn't ask for better in-laws. You're awesome, and I love you to the moon and back.