Everything I know about unconditional love, I learned in adulthood.
Several years ago, I dated someone who was lovely but not the right fit. We broke up but stayed in communication. This person had limited social support and relied on me as his point of connection, even after the romantic part of our relationship ended. I hated to see him depressed, but our time together was draining, and I felt the weight of his mental health on my shoulders.
One day I mentioned to my roommate that I wasn’t looking forward to an upcoming meeting with this person. “Then why are you going?” she asked.
I was surprised at the question and stumbled through something about needing to support him, along with my fears about his health if I severed one of his limited threads of connection.
She was stretched out on the chaise in our living room, and I was standing, but she looked up and held my gaze, an intensity about her that made me listen. “That’s not love, you know.”
I looked at her, confused, already forming defenses, mouth opening wordlessly.
“That’s your own guilt, your obligation. It’s you not wanting to be selfish or a bad person. It’s about how you feel. That’s not love.”
She was right. I didn’t want to cause him any pain, but I was also becoming a crutch for him. Though I’d encouraged him to build a supportive network for himself, he wasn’t doing that, and our interactions were sapping my energy.
I told him I couldn’t be his person anymore. We lost contact. I worried for him, but I also felt free.
…..
I was never explicitly told this, but growing up, I was surrounded by messages that guilt and fear were part of love. This was not, of course, the intention. Yet I learned to feel guilty when I was seen as ungrateful, and though I read that God was loving, I was terrified of doing anything wrong, fluctuating between the anxieties of confessing and the rush of relief I’d feel immediately after.
I learned that, in love, there was an accounting. I spent times in my life consumed by intense guilt, tinged with shame and frustration because I knew others wouldn’t be as devastatingly affected by such little things as I was. I was mostly adept at hiding my feelings and was achieving quite highly. Only once did I break, calling my doctor in the throes of a terrifying panic attack.
Later, I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder. It brought me comfort to understand the almost debilitating swirl of thoughts in my head. I went to therapy (a few times). I read and researched a lot. I found myself surprised at what the people in my life wanted to do for me.
….
I didn’t plan to write about this this week. It came because I’ve been feeling so grateful at the inexplicable love and care my community brings to my life. I felt this really deeply earlier this week.
For the past year or so, I’ve been carrying some shame that I can’t ever get my shower as clean as I want it. You know how everyone has the chore that they hate? I don’t mind dishes or laundry or even mowing the yard. But cleaning the shower is my nemesis. I’ve tried and made some progress but always felt self-conscious when I’d host others at my home and want it to be sparkling.
One of my best friends knows this. This week, she popped on some gloves, settled herself in with my cleaning supplies, and went to work.
I felt a mixture of emotions. Guilt that I hadn’t been capable of cleaning my shower the way I wanted, and now my friend was doing it for me. Self-doubt that maybe I was just being lazy and hadn’t tried hard enough. Shame at having her see its - and by extension, my - imperfections. Relief that it was done. Immense gratitude to my friend, whom I know sincerely wanted to help because she loves me. I even feel a little ridiculous, writing this and tearing up. It’s just a shower.
But it’s not. It’s someone seeing all of you and loving you anyway. It’s doing something for someone else because you want to, not because you have to, and not because it protects some fragile image of yourself as kind or selfless.
There is no fear, no guilt, no obligation in unconditional love. This is a lil’ love letter to the ones who have shown me that.
Share this post