Black Widow

To start with, you should know that I don’t believe there are any true accidents in life. Things may appear accidental, but really they are all part of a glorious and masterful interweaving of people, places, things, and experiences.

Tonight I found myself musing over the “Archive” folder in my email, specifically from the years 2006 & 2007. Interesting, you might say. Why those years? Why that folder?

It all came clear when I found the emails about a specific person’s attempted suicide. I had been close to that person for a time, and by the date of the email had become less close. The suicide attempt was a shock to me, yet it was one in only a series of events from that person that somehow were connected to me.

I have this effect on people.

Hear me out. I know this sounds egotistical. But I have this effect on people.

I love them, with my whole heart. I give everything of myself to them. And then, after a while, something … happens. I am no longer a one-women fountain of Love for that person. I’m just a woman.

But the effect of going from FOUNTAIN OF GLORIOUS LOVE to regular mundane everyday love seems to have a disastrous effect on the recipient. Look up the term “Narcissistic Supply” if you are so inclined. The Firehose of Love becomes a comparative trickle, not that it’s a trickle by any other definition than of the comparison to that from a firehose.

Regular ol’ love is a pretty darned good thing.

But I have this effect on people, and some of them do not take it well. Hence the attempted suicide, above. And other seemingly dramatic responses by other people.

The common denominator here is me, I know this. I am the East Wind.

And I wonder what here is the lesson, what is the karmic bond, what is learned from the experiences? Both for myself and for the recipients.

I don’t eat the heads of my mates. Do I? They might tell you a different story. We each only can tell the story that dwells in our own perception. It seems I leave a sort of catastrophe in my wake. But don’t most relationship endings do that?

I find myself amidst another ending, another dramatic response to the shutting down of the firehose. I don’t know what will happen with this one. It is not my story to tell.

I only know the blessed relief of giving to myself again after giving too much OF myself for so long,