This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

“I am worthy.”

I’m not used to unconditional support.

When Parker and I knew we were becoming homeless, I asked my mother if we could move in there, or if at least Draven and I could (Parker was allowed to go to her mom’s house).

She said Draven could move in, but I couldn’t because it would be enabling me.

At the time I was still in the process of applying/going through the appeals process for disability for my mental health stuff.

I’m not sure what she thought she’d be enabling me to do?

Live?

Survive?

Have a roof over my head?

The three of us ended up moving to Maryland. Draven went with his dad, and Parker and I went into a homeless shelter, and then moved in with almost complete strangers when our time ran out.

When I have vented to my mom about difficulties in my life, she would often either send money without saying anything, or offer to send money, which I normally accepted because we were fucked. Every single time she would find some way to throw it in my face. I appreciated her help, but I always knew it would cost me something too.

At one point she said she wished she was like me and her husband had died so she could get a check too. I was getting $700 a month survivor benefits for Draven, and yes, I appreciated and needed that check, but having Parker would have been worth much more than that.

My dad wasn’t much better. And in some ways he was much worse.

I spent my life being told that all of it was my fault, I had failed, I needed to pull myself up by the bootstraps and do what everyone else did.

And I constantly tried.

And I constantly failed.

Which just reinforced what they said.

And then I would need more help.

And they would remind me how I had failed.

And how I was a burden.

Sometimes, when I’d end up with a small amount of money from a tax return, my mother would ask me why I’d never paid her back the money she sent me.

The money she asked if she could send.

The money she never said was a loan.

I’m 100% sure that she believes the reason I’ve stopped talking to her is because I have my dads inheritance now and can stop using her. Oh, and now that I have money I want to avoid her so I don’t have to pay her back. Nevermind the fact that I haven’t let her send me money in years.

And I don’t have the inheritance.

But, anyway.

Right now I have a family member helping me out financially.

They are the only reason that I know my bills will be paid.

They are the only reason that I know I will always have food in my fridge.

They are the only reason I get to take vacations.

They are the only reason I can look for work that will work for me, instead of taking something that will make me worse, just to cover the bills.

I am incredibly privileged to have this help.

I am thankful for it every day.

And today I had to call them to tell them that a choice I made in the past has come back to bite me.

Which then opened up a discussion about a whole bunch of other choices concerning credit cards and other delinquent bills.

When you’re poor, you ignore this stuff and it disappears in 7 years. There is nothing they can take from you.

Except this time, someone is coming after me (and its going to cost more in court costs than the bill, but, that’s another story).

One of the ways my bipolar presents is through impulsive choices.

One benefit to having someone helping me with money is that I discuss what I’m using it for. Not penny by penny, but in general. Keeping an eye on spending trends, learning what my moods are doing to my money. Learning how to control it.

But I didn’t have this help before. And today I heard the words “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

I have a hard time trusting it.

I expect to call or text and say “I’ve fucked up again” and hear a screaming voice on the other end of the line.

Instead of gentle guidance and encouragement, I expect to hear anger and disgust.

I expect to be told that I failed and continue to fail.

I expect to be told that its not their problem and I need to fix it on my own.

“I am worthy”

This post is about money situations, but I’m also encountering this in all of my friendships.

People are just there, even if we don’t talk every day or every week, even if we don’t talk at all.

When I need support, friends are there to lift me up.

Friends who accept me for who I am and where I am.

I don’t need to change.

“I am worthy.”

I’ve been doing a type of sleep yoga before bed. Part of it is picking an affirmation to focus on. I’ve been focusing on this one for a few weeks now.

I keep wondering what’s going to happen next, I’ve been through more than my fair share, and trust is a definite issue for me. When is the next person going to let me down, when is the next thing going to go wrong.

But who knows . . .

What if things go right?

I am worthy.

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