He may be guilty of heartbreaking but I love him because of it, not in spite of, and this is why
The thoughts stopped in a grinding halt. Just like that. Suddenly the broken record dialogue of automatic messages ceased. Either the tape was erased or the mental record player vanished overnight. No more would the movie repeat itself against my will. One year. Imagine that. It was hell.
An entire 365 day straight agony of repetitive thoughts that had a mind of their own. A script that haunted me 24/7. Relief was long overdue. For 52 weeks I was saddled with chronic remuniation in an attempt to obtain deliverance from the self-torture of insecurity. Even meditating to Debi Berndt's overcoming obsessive thinking CD didn't help. Usually her stuff worked like a charm. Not with this one.
My usual patttern was that after a month or two I'd be done with a crush and entertain something or someone else. If it got really bad I'd take lover and that did the trick. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take a lover even with a San Diego real estate investor constantly knocking on my door begging for the job. Sure he looked like Drew Brees but I had no desire for him. Not this time. I was under a spell.
The time was endless as if I were living in some post-limerance version of Groundhog Dog. An unanswerable question persisted relentlessly. Why didn't he feel the same way about me? Yes, I was back in High School at age 32. Every possible negative reason came to mind about why I was too defective for his affections. I never stood a chance with him. On the surface it seemed like I was craving validation from a specific person. He was not the only hot, smart, and sexy man that OKCupid.com brought into my life. No, he was just the only one I could see for miles and miles. At times not even my favorite actor, the German-Irish Adonis known as Michael Fassbender, could snap me out of it.
From the outside looking in I was a dating marathon. Three dates a week in 2013. Each one with a different man. All of them were closer to the ideal Teutonic intellectual in looks and brains I sought. Juggling three men at a time each season as per the dating coaching from Love in 90 Days kept me sane but my heart and soul belonged to him. God, what was so special about him anyway. C'est la mystique. That was the big mystery.
My desperation for an end to my heartache, however, jumpstarted a journey that needed to be as long as it was. Now, saying Goodbye My Lover to the lover that never was seems like the conclusion to my own internal 100 Years war. A war between my head, heart, and soul. My intellect was determined to move on. My heart did too. My soul said, not so fast, even though it meant all three of them were in a prison like Alcatraz.
The past had become a fortress without an escape. What kind of crazy was this? This was a delusion not even Dr. Jung could fix. Maybe this was the one karmic curse with such a powerful grip on my on my psyche. Many times it seemed as if I were exhausting myself still trying to run away from my feelings. Geographic cure was pointless. Whether in Los Angeles, Hawaii, Portland, or New York, no distance from the ocean of emotions was available.
Whatever projections I was projecting on to him they were toxic and binded to me like a straight jacket. I nearly gave up and considered packing my bags and flying to Switzerland to check myself into The Jung Institute in Zurich. Surrender felt like accepting life with a love disease that had infected the core of my being. My only choice that remained was not a choice at all .... I had to pray.
Ironically, it was today, after a thousand prayers were uttered begging God to grant me selective amnesia and delete all memories of him, did a better remedy happen. Why today? What happened? Four Goddesses showed up, each saying a piece of the puzzle that I finally was ready to hear, to create the elixer to set me free. And today, strangely enough, was the same day I met him a whole 365 days ago.
Tuesday was wisdom from Heather Strang, Wednesday were wise words from Tamara Green, Thursday it was Devi Ward's turn, and Friday was a kind of ceremonial karmic cord breaking session in a BodyTalk appointment with Shelley Poovey in New York. It was Shelley's session that halted the thoughts for good.