My intuition is of a returning.
Although I spent decades in a survival mode borne out of childhood/generational traumas, what I have become is closer to the youngest version of myself I can remember.
That was a kinder, more compassionate, deeply empathetic incarnation. That Jason lacked the tools to manage a vulnerability to atmospheric emotions that could crumple him into tears. Heck, I still don’t know how to carry the pain I sense at times.
I connect with my ten-year-old Self. He foresaw my parents divorcing three years ahead of the announcement. He couldn’t hear news updates without being overwhelmed. He didn’t have clear spiritual or emotional guidance, not at the depth that he needed. That Jason made a decision that profoundly saddens me: to cleave the world into a dichotomy of victims and victimizers. I had spent years feeling the hurt of the victims and didn’t want to remain on that side of the ledger. I wasn’t a strong or big kid, but I had a quick wit and, therefore, a dangerous mind.
I thank God for that mind, but I employed it in evil ways. That’s when I became the past Self of the meme. I love that Jason, but it is hard. He damaged himself and others to survive. He walled himself up in his mental talents while ignoring the Love that God had placed in his heart.
Simultaneously, I am grateful for my journey while I grieve it.