From The American Heritage Dictionary soul mate is “One of two persons compatible with each other in disposition, point of view, or sensitivity”.
From Urban Dictionary it is ” Two people that are supposedly perfect for each other and meant to be together forever. But for people who actually have a brain, the idea of “soul mates” is ridiculous. There are certain people who are right for you at certain times in your life. There isn’t ONE person who you are always supposed to be with forever”.
So do they or don’t they exist?
I think they do exist but not in the context of what we imagine our soul mate would be. My husband is not my soul mate. I am sure someone may think that typing something like that is “marriage blasphemy” however its the truth. Don’t get me wrong, I love him dearly. In many ways I am not sure he could ever understand nor could I verbalize how much I love him. But the fact of the matter is, my soul mate I already met and lost long before I even met my husband.
My grandmother (I called her Nana) was my best friend in the entire world. No one has ever come close to being so dear to me as that woman was. Perhaps that sounds horrible, I guess in some way I should say that my children have but I have to be 100% honest here. They certainly come close but inside I either can’t or don’t allow anyone to get as close as she was to me. As many of you know, I don’t have a good relationship with my mother. Some of that spawns because of my relationship with her mother (my Nana). One of my aunts and I spoke about Nana once. She said that Nana instilled self esteem within me. I could do anything, be anything, and nothing would have stopped me. Some of that is still with me. But alot of it was torn down as soon as my mother could. Nana passed when I was 9 years old. So I was still quite young and vulnerable to outside forces that sought to tear all of the good down. Nana wasn’t perfect, I later learned of things she said or did that was questionable. But it doesn’t matter, since she never did anything to cause anyone physical or intentional mental harm I can forgive her for it. Some of the things I was told I later learned were also lies. I ended up having to go to my aunt to figure out what was truthful and what was lies.
When your soulmate dies, a part of you dies. I would say the same if my husband or children passed (goddess bless them and protect them) but it’s not of the same intensity. Or maybe it is and I cannot fathom such a thing. Anyway, after Nana passed and my mother began the process of “putting me in my place, a notch or two down the pedestal” I ended up just existing. I no longer felt anything. I wouldn’t speak for days. Wouldn’t eat much, maybe once a day. By the time I was 15, I only spoke at school. Finally my parents put me into a psychiatric unit. There I spoke of Nana for really the first time. No one had ever asked, or if they did I was too busy being inside my protective shell. I remember very vividly that one evening I was laying in my bed. I think I was reading but to be honest, once I saw her I couldn’t remember what I was doing before then. There she was, next to my bed. I remember smelling her perfume (I couldn’t name it but if I smelled it I could tell you) and hearing her say to me “Baby, your going to be just fine”. To this day I can still feel the imprint of her hand on mine. My heart….I can’t even say it broke again. It shattered. I felt ashamed. I felt sad. I felt alone. I felt mad that I didn’t say anything back and just cried like a big baby. And I felt releived that she took the time to comfort me. I remember just sitting there and sobbing hard and dry heaving. Too bad for me, that was a mistake. In came the nurses. Since I was inconsolable I had to go to the “quiet room”. That room was nothing more than a padded room where you were required to take off jewelry, shoes, and anything else that you could try to kill yourself with (shoes = shoelaces, choking hazard). I still couldn’t be calmed so here came Bubba. He was a big man. They always called Bubba if you got out of hand. And he always brought Thorizine. And I am terrified of needles. A wrestling match ensued. Since I was “hallucinating” my meds were changed the very next day. Never again have I ever really talked about her. This blog post is the closest I have come. I have been wanting to do this post for sometime. It still hurts as if she died yesterday. I would love to say I wasn’t bawling right now, but I am. That’s why I put this off for so long. The pain has lessened but its taken a long time to get here where I am now.