Broken Whole by Jane Binns

Author:Jane Binns [Binns, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2018-11-13T06:00:00+00:00

One morning I went home from Rob’s place to meet my teacher, Patrick, for a one-on-one clairvoyant course. Rob called right after I arrived at home and wanted to know what happened to the two bottles of lavender oil he had purchased. I told him I had them.

“Why?” he demanded. “What are you going to do with them?”

“The one half full is mine,” I said. “I took it home to keep it here. I thought you had given me the other one. I didn’t know if we might use it here or not anyway.”

“But why do you need the other one? You’re not seeing someone else, are you?” His voice was craggy, shrill. “Is Patrick there?”

Deflated, I became still inside. “No. Patrick is not here. He is my teacher. I am not seeing anyone else. Why would I, and when would I have time?”

“Why did you take them? I bought that new one. It stays here.”

“I’ll bring it back, but not now. I have my class in fifteen minutes. I wasn’t thinking when I picked it up; I was just putting stuff in a bag.”

Somehow, we got off the phone. He wasn’t satisfied with my answers, and I knew we would go another round with this later on. I tried to push these thoughts out of my head and got ready for my session with Patrick.

I was doing a fourteen-month spiritual practice with him. He was guiding me through certain principles and releasing old wounds. It was powerful and was helping me begin to identify who in my life had a process for letting go of the past and who resisted doing this. I had decided not to look too closely at Rob. I hadn’t made up my mind about whether or not I could be around someone who didn’t have a process for letting go. What was clear to me, however, was that I didn’t feel responsible for other people’s unresolved issues.

I had spent much of my marriage feeling like I had to teach or guide Matt toward understanding me and building bridges that would allow us to connect with one another. When I left, I’d decided I would never go to those same lengths with anyone else. And each relationship I’d had since then represented another step away from feeling as though I needed to monitor the pulse of the emotional well-being of my partner. That habit had stripped my imaginative energy and worn me down. I wanted to devote my creativity to other aspects of my life, like my career and writing, and things that were not subject to the volatility of a relationship.

Still, I felt guilty for abandoning a post I had nurtured and guarded for so long. I had formed an identity around tracking the emotional weather of my partner. Who was I if I wasn’t in a relationship? Would I be okay if I wasn’t in one? I would talk about taking time off between men, but I could never rest for longer than a few weeks—on rare occasions, six weeks.

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