The multitude of women within me are conflicted.
The Mary Magdalene in me feels deeply for his wounds, his trauma, his losses.
The Athena in me tries to impart him with words of wisdom while understanding that change is not something external, but rather something that comes from within.
The Ixchel in me tries to make him feel heard and loved, an offer of a temporary healing potion.
The Sige within me observes.
The Ishtar, Brigit, and Diana within me remind me to stay focused on the lesson at hand.
Maat and Kuan Yin remind me to stay out of my emotions in an act of service favoring fairness and compassion above all.
The Eireen within me maintains the peace.
The Dana within me understands that I’m reaching the end of a cycle and I need to gather as much information as possible prior to the Wheel of Fortune turning right side up in my favor again. Here comes the World card…
He comes and goes as he pleases – at his leisure. A master bread-crumber and strategist that can quickly figure out the right amount of investment needed to hold on to a life line. Romantically, he treats people like disposable cameras that will be available for a photograph as he fancies. If the camera is no longer working, he simply tosses it.
While I respect him as a person, I find him to be romantically toxic. I’ve been playing along in this game under a cloak of innocence by biting every crumb of bread given to me. I’m curious. I want to understand. I want to know more. Like a true researcher, wearing a double-agent cape, I take notes, I observe, I listen, and I learn. The ability to observe emotional situations without forming deep attachment are skills I acquired in Anthropology classes.
He’s deeply wounded. You can see it in his eyes, in his body, in his environment. Yet he knows how to employ just enough charm to make newcomers think otherwise. I can sense the depression. I can feel the anxiety. And sometimes when he breathes or moves in particular patterns, you can see remnants of trauma. I say nothing. I stay silent and observe.
While I lie on the couch next to his, he FaceTimes that one, texts two others, Facebook messages another, Bumbles 4 of them, then replies a couples of hearts and fires on insta and snap to a couple more. Knowing exactly what techniques to employ to entertain each one. Though there is visual programming in the background (which he’s honestly running to keep me happy), he can’t seem to put his phone down. He’s constantly checking it. Picking it up. Opening it up. It’s a near compulsive action. After the film, he sits next to me and shows me a video. He caresses my legs. I barely respond as I’m feeling unwell. I walk outside and he follows.
Later that night, I lay next to him and manage to fall asleep – lightly. We share an intimate moment. I then fall asleep more permanently. Hours later, he’s awake, I’m awake – it’s the middle of the night. He heads over to his phone – and appears to go through a similar drill. He says, “I don’t want to drive to her right now. She’s 30 minutes away.” All of the women in his life are his friends.
The next morning he remembers that he had promised a friend to go to brunch. I use the announcement as a window of opportunity to escape for the day and make my way home.
Time goes by and there’s radio silence.
As pattern dictates, when he feels overwhelmed or in need of emotional solace, he’ll contact me again.
I then ask myself, “If he’s having all of his cake and eating it, why is he not fulfilled?” I abandon the question as other matters take over my day. As the day finishes and I’m falling asleep, I remember a set of words that once changed my life…. ” Because purpose is rooted in focus. Purpose cannot be fueled with scattered energy.”
I then, fall asleep.