Dismantled

I think my present experience is creating a calling. I'm thinking of writing a book called Dismantled. It would allow readers to honor and respect losing everything and what it means to lose the "self".

So much of the New Age thinking has lead us to believe that we don't need to suffer, that we can overcome our adversity if we do the right affirmations, or chants or drawing of mandalas or carefully crafted and constructed prayers. The current focus is on creating a constant stream of more joy, more happiness, more living, more love....more, more, more. But this isn't the space where a good number of us are living. Our lives have taken unexpected turns, downturns and have gone careening wildly off the carefully crafted dream paths on our Vision Boards.

If God truly is in the ALL, then we must honor and respect both the profound and the profane. We must forgive ourselves for not being in a manic state of happiness 24/7. Who can maintain that? It would be exhausting! You can only know the essence of happiness by the contrast of the dark. Therefore, should we not celebrate the dark and bless it as well? It is equally giving us the gift of true sight. Without it, how would we ever really know what total, enthralling, boot banging bliss could be?

I am on that path right now. And I feel it is important to share the dark journey. Through all the losses of the life I once knew, I am forgetting who I am. I simply don't know the "me" I used to be anymore. I created a life for me and my family that was the outward, 3D expression of who I was based upon the furniture I selected, the artwork, the rugs, the paint colors, etc. etc. The things in my house which were bought with great joy I now view with disdain. I've reached the point where none of it matters anymore. I've had to sell so many things, have multitudes of yard sales simply to stay afloat that the effort it takes to sell one more thing makes me want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and hide from the burden. I feel ready to shed it all, walk away and be done with it. If this is what it feels like to be spiritually bankrupt, then I'm there. I keep envisioning myself shedding off in one big layer all the fat and sadness that my body holds at present, slipping it off, leaving it behind and walking away. Life has twisted my arm so far behind my back, the only way to stop "crying Uncle" is to let the arm break.

Psychologically, this phenomenon could be viewed as a fascinating glimpse into what happens when you have simply "come undone". Seeing how someone so beaten down with life begins to look at her surroundings as if she is a stranger in her own home. Every chair, every table and every picture frame that remains just further reminds her of everything that went wrong. I will, dear reader, provide those details in another post. For today, I simply had to make this statement: "I'm beginning to forget who I am. The grief of loss, the burden of trying to stay afloat for so long has changed who I am so that now I am becoming......dismantled."