new understanding

I have had another loss, and this one should not have hurt, because... we weren't even officially "together" this time.  And I saw it coming and knew it was bound to happen. And yet, there was this tiny ray of hope in my heart that maybe it wouldn't happen, maybe things would get better,  maybe it would be different this time, against all odds.

Against all odds.  Ha.  As if I've ever been lucky!

Anyway, it did hurt. And the biggest part of the pain has been not even knowing why it hurt. It shouldn't have.  The story just doesn't make sense. Why do I feel the way I do, for someone so undeserving, for someone who behaved so badly towards me, for someone who is so clearly not a good match? A week ago around the full moon, one of the horoscope writers I enjoy, Jessica Lanyadoo, wrote:

"Instead of tracking all the ins and outs of your stories, you can actually just let it all go. Stomach the discomfort of the unknown. There’s nothing to figure out; you just need to give it your best."  

It was timely advice. I was holding on too tightly to the need to find the story. Make it make sense. Understand.  And I couldn't.  So I rested and coasted for awhile. Letting myself hurt without knowing why I was hurt. 
I even got a very interesting event to underline the message.  I woke up the next morning with a huge, weeping wound on my foot, and I have NO idea how it got there.

(content warning... gross wound picture...)

This was after a few days of healing. It was worse when it first appeared. I joked that I was starting to get stigmata. Ha ha.

It was like, both the heart and the body have to endure pain without a known source.  The only thing I can do is wait for it to heal.  And I felt a deep intuition tell me, "when the foot heals, your heart will feel better as well." 
OK.
That's the plan? Just wait?  and meanwhile... self care as best as possible. OK.

However, grace came through, thankfully.  Last night, while taking a shower that served double purposes of cleansing my physical body (through shampoo and soap) and my energetic body (through Florida water, crushed eggshells, and astral light beams), I suddenly had a revelation.  The "story" I was seeking hit me.  At least part of it.

There are always many ways to tell a story, but I suddenly "got" an angle to the story that is helping me make sense of it.  It's only part of the story's entirety, of course, but it's my corner on the truth.

A little over three years ago I moved away from Kansas, hoping for a new start to almost everything. I wanted to make new friends, get better health, develop a new spiritual community, meet a new life partner, start a new job, find a therapist, find a doctor, find an amazing school for the kids, live sustainably, find new ways to make music, and begin the life of impact and purpose and bad-ass evil-fighting I've always desired to live. I hoped to do it all in Phoenix, or at least get a good start.
In the first week of arriving in Phoenix, I met him.  And the hopeful process of starting a brand new life, that conformed to my ideals and purpose, began.  He helped. He supported as I sought friends, the school, the job, the doctors... with varying degrees of success...  He wasn't nearly as supportive as I needed him to be, but it was so much better than nothing.  I took what I could get, even though something felt uneasy about him, and I definitely made some huge mistakes.  But I was making progress toward my dreams.  It was hard, so hard, but I was getting somewhere.  And then.
He couldn't.
He wouldn't.
He didn't.
And then he became dangerous.
And I had to cut him off, to protect myself and my children.

They say that many personality disorders happen because someone's psyche stops developing when a traumatic event happens in childhood.  I think something similar happened to me.  The breakup was traumatic (for both of us), and I see now that there was some sort of blockage that happened in me at that point. My progress toward my dreams stopped at that point too.  Oh, not completely.  I guess I did manage to buy a house.  But it wasn't the house I really wanted.  And anyway, a house is just a thing.  The deeper, meaningful items I wanted to do have just gone nowhere.  Because I no longer had his help, I had to radically alter my schedule and the activities we could participate in, and that sent us on a trajectory I hadn't wanted to go on, and the chain reaction was one of deep frustration and disappointment.

My list of things I want today is the same as the list I had when I moved here 3 years ago.  I have tried and tried and tried to make progress on them, and... yes, there has been some progress, I can't lie... but the progress has been lackluster at best.

The intermediary time from his departure to now has been all about blockages, delays, things not being "just right" but having to settle for 20th best, false starts, dead ends.  It even manifested in my plants.  My pomegranate bush has remained the same size since I bought it almost a year ago, though I planted it properly, and have been feeding and watering it faithfully. The grape vine has remained the same size...same story...  I bought two moringa saplings to put in the backyard, last January... Moringa is supposed to be a dramatically fast-growing plant around here, thriving in the desert conditions. People report 20-foot growth in a single year.  But these two Moringas just. didn't. grow.  They stayed the same height--about 6 inches-- from January through August, when I accidentally let the goats get them.  Even the cat we got for my son's birthday last year has not grown much. She still looks like a kitten, even though she's over a year old.

Kitty's first birthday. That's a tea saucer, not a full sized plate. She should be bigger by now.

Things are blocked! Not growing normally!  Not developing!

The first several months of being rid of him were a relief, since he scared me so much during the break up.  But after awhile, I started feeling haunted by him.  I think that haunted sensation was due to unconsciously realizing my stuckness, and trying to go back to the point of stuckness, in an effort to unstick it.  I think my psyche fixated on him, because he was the focal point of the blockage. 

Why did the breakup hurt? Because I have been unconsciously trying to heal what was broken and stunted, which has affected literally my entire life since it happened, and I'm seeing HIM as the access point, or object, of that healing. 

And of course, I realize that's too much pressure to put on a person.  Each of us is responsible for our own healing.  I wasn't doing it on purpose, but it was unconsciously creating an unhealthy co-dependent vibe.  (He had his own contributions to that vibe as well, though, of course. But I'm talking about my story, which is the only one I have the right to tell.)

I am not sure if there is more to the story of our connection... Is there a past-life thing? Is it real love, that just can't express properly due to dysfunction?  Is there another chapter in the future?  (Probably not, realistically.)  I have no idea. 
But this part of the story makes sense to me, for now.  I'm grateful for the insight.  It is healing to sit with it, and grieve with purpose, instead of confusion.  My foot is scabbing, finally, and I'm sure in another week or two, it'll be completely better, as will my heart.