September 8th

I always thought I was a loving person. At least I used the word a lot. It's a mistake a lot of us make I think. "I love pizza" "I LOVE that movie" "I love you"... We toss that word around without really taking the time to figure out what it really is. No judgements over here, I was careless with my idea of love at one point too. Little did I know that I would be put in a position where my entire concept of love would be challenged and completely revised.

I was in a relationship that had basically run its course, but neither of us was willing or ready to let go. I knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't really put my finger on it. Yea we had arguments, but what couple doesn't argue? We both were stubborn, prideful individuals; our disagreements were getting uglier and harder to come back from. Yet, there were still times when we got along so well, it was hard to even picture us falling out over anything. He had just gotten a new job, and a new car- I for one, was thrilled. I just knew this was going to help our relationship move forward in a healthier direction. Boy, was I wrong.

Fast forward to a week later. He lost his job. He had no way to pay for his car note. He was not feeling well on most days. I was definitely losing my patience with the situation, and I think I was beginning to lose my mind. We argued constantly, almost as if we were being paid to argue. Like it was our job to argue. I tried to be positive, but I really couldn't see an end to the stress this relationship brought on the both of us. We simply were not good for each other, but we couldn't figure out how to separate. Until the decision was made for us.

The last week in August, he was sick. Really sick. I took the morning off of work to stay with him until his family could come and take him to the doctor. I was worried, but I had to go to work. I had bills to pay. I literally couldn't afford to stay with him all day. So I left. 48 hours later, we broke up. Three years together came to an abrupt end. I was devastated and hurt to my core. I couldn't figure out how the love I thought we had just wasn't enough to hold us together.

I was free falling for a long time. Until, like glass hitting the concrete, I shattered into a gazillion tiny pieces. I cried and cried until I felt so dry on the inside I couldn't produce anymore tears. I would cry on my way to work, and cry on my way back to the house we used to share. Where did our love go? I couldn't reconcile how suddenly the relationship ended with the love I still felt for him. And then the real blows came. I was told I had one week to get all my things together and move out. I think that's when it really hit me that we were done. I barely held myself together as I hurried to find a new living arrangement, around my hectic work schedule, while I worried about how I was going to be able to afford to move with essentially zero dollars in my bank account.

Somehow, it worked out. I was able to find a place within walking distance of my job. Sure, I had to clean out my savings and borrow money from my family, but I was able to get into a new apartment in a week. My dad promised to help me move the larger items I had over the weekend, so on a Friday night, I packed whatever I could fit into my little blue Mazda and went to stay at my new spot.

I didn't have a bed, so I spent that first night on some bedsheets on the floor of my new bedroom. I had about $20 to my name until payday the next week. No food in the fridge, barely any gas in my car, but I was no longer in a toxic environment- for that I was somewhat grateful. As I slipped into a fitful sleep, I remember telling myself there was no way things would get any worse. I could make it out of this. (Hint: it got way worse).

Saturday morning, September 8, 2018. A day that's burned into my memory forever. I woke up and immediately checked my email. I sat up in shock. Multiple bills were due, and apparently I had run out of time to pay them. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to figure out how I could make twenty dollars stretch to cover a light bill, a HUGE car insurance payment, and still have enough left over to just, well... eat. I wracked my brain for possible solutions, but my broken heart and my cloudy mind weren't producing any feasible results. I did not know what to do. I laid on that floor and just let tears slide silently down my face.

And that's when I decided that I really had no other choice but to ask for help. I swallowed the remainder of my pride, and wrote a lengthy post on Facebook, trying my best to explain what my situation was. I didn't really think anything would come of it, other than maybe a few people offering to pray for me or maybe just offering a listening ear. But that's not what happened. Ohhhh no. Not at all.

Within 10 minutes, I had a ridiculous amount of notifications coming to my phone. People who I hadn't spoken to in years were asking me for my cashapp and venmo. Shocked, I updated my post and included that information. Whew. I'm tearing up as I type this, because I remember how I felt when I checked my cashapp and my venmo a few minutes later. Friends, family, strangers alike were sending me money along with messages telling me to stay strong. Telling me I was worth it. Telling me I was going to be okay, and that if I ever needed anything to call them. I curled up on the floor and cried my eyes out. They raised around $1100 for me in 2 hours. I was going to make it to my next paycheck. I was going to be okay.

I thought I was beyond love at that point, but I was wrong. See, I didn't think I had any value to anyone. I didn't even value myself. Years of begging someone to love me had damaged my perception of my worth. I really was in a dark place; Love wasn't having that. I couldn't fathom the idea that love was actually a choice, an action if you will. Love is not a contract, it's not a transaction. What was done for me that day was not in hopes of any return, it was just out of pure love. I didn't have to do anything to qualify for it, it was just given to me when I needed it the most.

September 8th. All these years later, the love that was shown to me, I still carry with me today. Since then, my life changed course. Love is a force that is more powerful than any other. Love is unconditional. It isn't prideful, it doesn't seek to chastise or berate. Love is a verb; it's something to do, not something to say. Love just is. I still have ups and downs, but I'm so grateful to know love. It was a transformative experience that I needed to have. I learned that it's not enough to speak of love, but to make it my habit to be love whenever and to whoever I can.