All Roads Lead Back to Him
I exist only in the context of him.
It feels like a feat of epic proportions to go a day without having our failings discussed by those who know me as one half of a whole. Questions are never far from their lips and topics include how we are navigating the road to becoming unmarried, the status of his new relationship, his many other life and parenting choices, and my feelings about those choices. Not to mention reminiscing the good old days. Their words remind me of all that has changed and highlight the fact that I have no idea how to answer these questions. I am left with only my perception of how things are between us and I have very few guideposts to make even an educated guess about his life. He is a stranger to me now. A stranger who is part of almost every significant memory formed in the last decade.
With every question or recounted memory I am sucked into a time warp. In 2002 I wore a black embroidered wedding gown and glided down the aisle to Moby’s ‘Porcelain’. In 2005 we borrowed a stein from the Munich beer hall, our belly’s too full with spätzle and pork knuckle to make a fast getaway. In 2007 we took turns feeding and settling our first child during the night so that we could each get enough sleep to manage the next day. In 2013 we stood in the middle of Times Square as the snow fell on our lashes and noses.
You see? I don’t need their inquisition because I can rummage in my box of memories and find plenty of times where he is standing right next to me. If only I could fold back the photographs in my mind so that it would appear as if I were the only one there.
It’s not their fault that the hook of my defunct marriage lodges in the fatty part of my inner cheek and reels me back to innumerable precious moments in our space time continuum.
We can never escape our past for it lives in our memories.
We are who the world thinks we are. Until we are not.
At various points over the last three years some of my loved ones have tried to squash me back into my circa 2013 Brooke-shaped mould. Their desire for familiarity has me spilling over the edges of their impression of who I am.
So what is one to do when the connections you have with people are inextricably linked to a version of you that has been shed? How do you rise above others’ immovable beliefs about who you are? And does it even matter?
Yes it matters, because every time someone says you are this and not that, it takes you right back to then. Then is when you were a family. Then is when the world was your oyster. Then is when you were a fool. But here’s the confusing part: then was also full of joy and wonderment and achievement.
A friend said to me, “all people are part fools and jerks and part loving and empathetic.” Yes to this! We are a hodgepodge of qualities, and when others clutch to their beliefs about who you are, your values and personality, it leaves little space to unfurl your wings and grow. It makes you feel like you are not enough.
I am still learning this lesson today: to not let my fear of disconnection and uncertainty trap my loved ones into a single version of self.
There are best selling authors that spout the rhetoric that the only true reality is what is happening right now, and I hear versions of this life philosophy each time I practice yoga. In principle I agree that being present and practising gratitude increases life satisfaction. But, this living in the now business doesn’t account for the mechanics of rapport building. We build rapport by relating to others through verbal and non verbal clues. And herein lies my problem: even if my loved ones were to never mention him again, I would surely find myself resurfacing the past just as often as they currently do. I am a natural story teller and can usually find a relevant anecdote to add to any conversation. It just so happens that many of these are drawn from a past life.
How do I communicate and relate to others without referencing memories from my past?
In short — I can’t. But what I can control is how it affects me.
Time is very helpful in this sense. It allows for emotions to dilute and transforms memories into stories that can shared in the moment and then mostly forgotten. Meditation is also useful. Just as we observe thoughts and feelings without attachment during meditation, I can choose to acknowledge the emotion that is attached to the memory, usually shame or disappointment, and then let it slip away.
In the meantime, whilst waiting for time to have its way with my pain, I have had to safe guard myself from some who just don’t get it; those who man-handle my hurt and drag me kicking and screaming back into Brooke, the wife. I’ve reduced the depth of my interactions with these people, choosing to skim the surface of my heart when with them. For others, I no longer feel emotionally safe around them and have no contact whatsoever. In case you hadn’t noticed, boundaries don’t come naturally to me and this has been the most difficult lesson of all. Who knew there were people in my life who did not have my best interests at heart?!
What you think influences how you feel which informs how you act. I wanted to feel: to be more whole-hearted, vulnerable and gentle with others, and that meant I had to change my environment. As I got my sea legs in empathy and extricated myself from the seduction of ‘more’ (more things, more debt), I couldn’t trust myself to be around people who bought into this lifestyle. Like an addict, being around this energy instigated a thirst within me for more beautiful things and nine times out of ten left me feeling less.
This exclusion zone extended to social media. For at least six months I had to be careful about what I saw and what was shared with me. I felt isolated from my family every time someone said ‘hey did you see the photo of the kids that he posted?’ For a time I chose to delete Facebook and Instagram altogether in an effort to detox my life from material aspiration and feelings of lack. When I returned I made a conscious effort to choose content that showcased the beauty of nature, delivered perky and annoying positive affirmations, made me laugh, and taught me something new.
The road to resourcefulness, to living within my means, to creativity, and to nurturing self and others is paved with intention. I like to think I am being more of this, despite my own, and others’, best attempts to maintain my status quo.
In ‘Waking Up’, Sam Harris wonders whether a deeper source of fulfilment exists; is there a form of happiness beyond the mere repetition of happiness and avoidance of pain? Where one feels a deep sense of well being prior to having their wants and needs gratified. He goes on to say that:
Seeking, finding, maintaining and safe-guarding our well being is the great project to which we are all devoted, whether or not we choose to think in these terms.
It’s time to swallow a cup of concrete and harden up because nothing good can flourish in the looming shadow of the past. It’s time to give myself permission to accept my experiences for what they are, rather than attributing so much meaning and emotion to them. I’m hopeful that before long I will find myself recounting new memories created with people who I love and adore.
And so it goes on.
Gaudi was absolutely right — continuous forms are the most perfect.
