Maybe is was straight loneliness. Or the cacophonous din of our unschooling life set against the heavy silences of morning and night. It was largely a recognition that my mind was broken.
I was blessed that Mary’s death didn’t break my heart or spirit. She didn’t betray me, our love was immortalized in her final moments. But my mind, the map that made sense of the world…that was torn and crumpled. I had visions of it shattered into a million purple shards, spinning away into blackness. I was lost. My identity was cast into the darkness and I could not find it. My mind had not solely been my own. Mary and I mapped our world together. The patterns in our brains coincided, meshed, intertwined, even stopped and started somewhere between us. Each of those connections were snapped at jagged angles. A lifetime of two minds working in accordance dashed against the rocks.
I could still reliably play “father.” And I found myself playing “husband” with ease, but without intention. We weren’t even dating, but I found a woman to play house. Like a child I was all too ready to be an avatar of “dad.” That was when I saw that I was a shell, a marionette being played by ideas that were no longer true (Were they ever true?).
Alcoholism, identity, a psychological break…I took them all on at the same time. Affirmations, guided meditations, books, AA meetings and coffee meetups, workshops, webinars, yoga, support groups, traditional therapy, prayer…I tried it all, often desperately seeking a silver bullet for my lack of self awareness.
There was something in each effort. I remember the pieces slowly appearing in each labyrinth walk and each awkward attempt at quieting my mind. I needed all the trys. It was the slowest and most painful attempt I had made at anything in my life. It’s not over, but I’ve come up for air to recognize the progress I’ve made. I love myself more each day. The journey has simplified to a couple affirmations (I love myself, I approve of myself, I trust myself) and an unending mantra of gratitude for all that I have been gifted by God.
I have learned that my Self does not need a name, but it does need love. Every day, as often as I can give it.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason