Despite being single for nearly 3 years, there are always moments that kind of remind me of a place that I've been - either physically or emotionally. Most often it is with relief and the assurance that I've been blessed and saved from parasitic, energy vampire-type strangulation or more importantly from myself.
Truth be told vile ex, Trey, will be most offended to hear that I am not counting the on-again-off-again 9 months we spent never-quite-together because according to him he Loved and Missed me like Crazy (very telling descriptor in the final analysis), but his actions never matched his words. I was the "Wife of his dreams" (if only I was 20 years younger), kind, a great cook, understanding to the point that I could straighten his thoughts!!!??? It drips and bleeds of irony, but that was just the gods sending me to my room on a cosmic time-out hoping I'd figure it out myself some way, some day, two floors up from anywhere.
So I challenge the maxim around Time Healing All Wounds: does this mean just hanging around long enough makes the pain go away OR is it pretty hard work straightening our mind, body and soul in the time allotted to us??? And so with all my curiosity about forensics and his pathological psycho-emotional demonstrations (bi-polar dependent largely on how his team was faring on any given day) I had to one day pull out my big-girl tool-box and find something to help me bury the hatchet and stash the Trey. The saw, pick and chain-saw looked so tempting when I thought of all the little lies, the lack of attention to detail (I mean even my gardener knows that it's all about ME, ME, ME!), the uncollected gifts and the uneaten treats, the thighs a few sizes smaller than mine, the ignored late nite calls from "stalkers", the defensiveness rooted in desperately poor self-esteem parading as a cool guy, the selective memory, desperate investigative telephone calls that maked autism look like ADHD - slow and painful and no-go. Lots of words and dreams and no depth ... but I'd promised to let it go.
So after all the Dr. Phil re-runs and re-reads of everything from the psychic to the psychotic, my redemption came from the most unexpected source: Westlife and Brian McKnight waxing lyrical about letting people go whose hearts weren't in it and enjoying one last cry before leaving it all behind. Just like that. Sweet serenity as I replaced the spade and axe, I felt a surreal transcendence. Very un-Goal-like I weighed nothing and floated above the disappointment and failure and complexity that my gut could no longer handle.
Add to that 2 of the most powerful books I've read lately: The Four Agreements and The Mastery of love (both by Don Miguel Ruiz) and it is as close to human mind freedom as I'll ever get. Interesting philosophy: human behaviour has 2 broad sources: Love and Fear. Actions from love make us stronger, more confident, all the good stuff. Fear does the opposite. So it was less scarific, in fact, exhilirating to find me sending him love and blessings for a great future and of course sincere prayers that he will one day be just a little more action-orientated if only to get his head out of his athletic, fantasy-inducing end and see the Light. Heck, I have a bathroom scale with more verve and determination.
But as my homeo reminded me very crisply last week: So let's agree that this is over and remove the obstacle that is blocking your happiness. Just like that I had my designer booster: Westlife + Brian + Homeo + Don Miguel. Add to that immeasurable portions of common sense, faith and love, and I am set.
Sometimes it's great just to stop and smell the roses that are so close to where you buried the ... bast ... oops, past!
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