February is the month of love. Those who are coupled up bring home meaningful gifts, make romantic gestures, or simply show gratitude and appreciation for their partners. Those of us without partners are just really excited for the chocolate prices on February 15th. I cleaned out the downtown Shopper’s Drug Mart of their Ferrero Rochers, with no regrets.
I have been known to proclaim that “I love love,” and I have a lot of it in my life. But my love comes in village form. And thank goodness, because not only do I live alone, but I live with a disability, one that limits my energy and my ability to do most of the things I used to do.
The experience of singledom and chronic illness at the age of 40, two life outcomes I really didn’t have on my bingo card, has taught me a lot. And the slowing down I’ve had to do has given me a lot of time to think about getting through this life with a smile on my face. And this is what I know:
The village matters. The village might literally be all that matters.
This month, I experienced a difficult health episode. My village showed up, in full force. They beat down my door. A therapist pal hit her message boards to crowdsource pathways forward for my battered nervous system. A good friend insists I take her car for appointments, as she doesn’t use it during the day and it’s parked two blocks from me. My girlfriends in British Columbia sent messages every day to remind me that it’s ok to be slower, quieter, gentler than I normally am. My mother is going to make so many vats of soup, I might drown.
Most of all, a lot of people listened to me cry. When I think of my village, I think of how many people loved me when I wasn’t my “light, love and sunshine” self, how many people were just waiting on the sidelines to be tagged in, how many people reiterated that my worth isn’t determined by my output, but by who I am. The inherent worth that I have. It’s a beautiful truth: while society reveres coupledom, health and youth, your village just reveres you.
My village saved me this month. It won’t be the last time.
And so why am I talking about all of this in February? Because you need a village, and there’s a village that needs you. Because love exists in many forms and the village love can be the most meaningful of all, if you let it. Because your spouse might get ill, your friend might lose a child, and your gifts might be the answer to someone’s prayer.
Because love shows up in many forms. Love can look like a donation, a meal, a phone call, a referral, a hand up, a hand on your shoulder. It can look like insomnia texts in the middle of the night, or check-ins on the way to the grocery store. “Do you need anything while I’m at Safeway?” There are perhaps no more romantic words in the English language.
In honour of Valentine’s Day, and in honour of the spirit of all we do here at Réseau Compassion Network, please take a look around today. Who needs a village? What can you give? How can you show your love?
Pro tip: start with chocolate. It’s on sale right now.