I read an interesting quote on Facebook this morning from Paulo Coelho. He said we should be proud of the scars in our souls. They will help and teach us. And being me, I pondered on this a bit. I also hijacked it, with credits, as my Facebook status. Scar tissue in my soul. If that were true, that scar tissue actually did grow there and it wasn't just a metaphor then I am no longer flesh and blood. No, I am made of a web of hardened inflexible, solid bits, criss crossing every single part of me. And that scared the hell out of me.
I have no interest in being a survivor or a hero or a victim or the object of anyones concern or pity. Life is life and the battle scars we carry are all a direct consequence of the choices we make. Abused children excluded. I am talking about adult decisions and adult scar tissue.
"I survived two marriages to the same bloke" sounds shallow and stupid and in reality the first marriage was stupid and the second one even more so. Hindsight being the bitch she is, I can see that now. Sadly, somewhere deep inside I knew it at the time too but I thought I could love him better and that he would eventually "see" me for the amazing person I am. That's insanity. And proof of terminal self absorption and absolute evidence of some deep seated shit in me. I can see that now of course.
I superimposed virtues and graces onto the relationship that didn't actually exist; "all his potential" that he had no hope of ever living up to because he didn't know it existed in my head or even that there was this expectation and I lived in state of permanent let down-ness. My soul was in a sulk for years.
The fact that he had a debilitating addiction to alcohol is irrelevant to the point I am trying to make. I was so self absorbed as to have felt, in the first marriage, that he was "doing it to me", every drink, every binge, every fall down moment, he was doing it to me. I was so full of self pity and loathing that not for one second did I stop and consider that he was slowly committing suicide and this amazing person I loved was dying drink by drink. No, he was doing it to me, slowly killing off everything good and decent and precious in my life. And I was permanently angry with him.
Long after our first divorce, the realisation of this selfishness in me nearly killed me. By some strange circumstantial twists of fate, we found ourselves standing in front of each other again and gave it another go.
What the hell does any of this have to do with scar tissue in the soul you might wonder. It has everything to do with scar tissue. Because I caution that nobody should ever ever embark on a new journey until the blisters from the previous one are fully healed and yes, scarred over.
While I didn't carry baggage into our second marriage, I did carry expectation again; the expectation that it would all be different. All my wounds were soul deep and still bleeding. And guess what? Alcoholism is alcoholism and the same drama unfolded time and time again. Fingers and nails scratching in open wounds until I could not take it one moment more. I was dying of terminal disappointment and of course, it goes without saying, living in active alcoholism is no way to live or raise kids.
Fate intervened again and saved both of us. He fell down overseas, far away from me, and I had to stand up alone and make the hard decisions, as did he, without the symbiotic self destructive crutch of each other to lean on. And we bled, both if us. Soul deep.
So why did Mr. Coelho hit such a chord in me this morning with his insights? The initial panic that I am nothing more than a mass of mangled tissue at soul level soon dissolved. I registered that scar tissue grows over the same wound over and over, and I am not a tangled mess of soul deep inflexibility. On the contrary. The scars on my soul are mostly in the places I am most vulnerable, most self destructive, and thankfully, the tissue will always be a little sensitive. Reminding me, when I tread there, to tread with caution, and gentleness and discernment.
Hindsight is a bitch, yes, but she is also such a sage teacher. We are now in round three, my bloke and me. We will never be married again; we don't even like each other very much it turns out, but we acknowledge the love and we are slowly finding a path forward that is healthiest for all of us, little people included.
Which leaves me full of gratitude. I have no regret. My soul scars are my map for the journey yet to come. A wiser traveler, a seasoned adventurer, knowing the poisonous plants from the healing ones, able to anticipate the weather and most importantly, read the damn map! It's a grown upness that fills me with excitement, happiness and hope. A clever man is Paulo Coelho.
Hmm. Have quite a lot to say about this. Firstly, it's very well written :)
ReplyDeleteSo... point 1: You're not the first – and certainly won't be the last – person to go into the same situation with the same person, more than once, expecting that 'this time will be different'. Been there, done that.. several times. I think that's a very human thing to do. It doesn't necessarily prove anything stupidity-wise, only a belief in someone who you feel is inherently good, though seriously flawed. It's natural to hope that one day they'll see the error of their ways and make a permanent change. Unfortunately, the chance of that happening is one in a zillion.
Point 2: You say that you were self absorbed to think he was 'doing all that to you'. You're wrong about the self-absorption. He WAS doing that to you. Yes, he was harming himself equally (or more) but it was HIS selfishness (or the selfishness of his uncontrolled addiction) that was the culprit, not you.
Point 3: There comes a time when you just have to cut your losses, hard as it may be and stop yourself from going there again.
Sterkte xxx