The Divine Divorce

The night of the full super moon I dreamed it was my birthday.  I was being taken to a fancy hotel room to celebrate by a big and powerful man.  He and I were not lovers, but I was craving intimacy with him.  He kept telling me what a nice room it was, though I found it to be very ordinary and dull.  At just the moment we were going to connect in some way, I saw him do something so familiar and sad it made my teeth ache: I saw him decide to disappoint me.  I could see that he hated himself for it, and I could also see that he thought he was doing me a favor, saving me from further grief by showing me that he was utterly incapable of love.  Just before I woke up I was wondering, “Why can’t I just leave?” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love me.  He was just broken.  Not wounded, not some injured and vulnerable being waiting for my ministrations to bring him back to life.  It was not about my being good enough, beautiful enough, woman enough, strong enough, healer enough.  He just didn’t have the parts to put back together.  Something was missing and something would always be missing.

Upon waking I realized, this relationship doesn’t work.  It never has.  It never will.  My inner masculine is a bum. 

All the years of rage and disappointment, all the struggle and effort to make him something other than what he was – what I knew he was because I created him – all that waste and shame led to this simple realization.  What if I just let it be true?  What if I listen, finally listen to the truth that’s been playing itself out over and over my whole life? 

It has taken me a few days to digest this, to let my tired and toughened tissues absorb the bitter medicine of this truth.  The masculine I have built in myself based on the parts I had available to me is never going to provide for me, make me happy, or keep me safe.  And unlike a real human being, he is incapable of change, a static construct based on subterranean beliefs about myself, judgments that I am not worthy of love or forgiveness.  He is a cage built by my ego to keep me hating myself and out of love with life.  I have always had the key. 

            So at this solstice time of year when the sun is strong and I think I am supposed to be celebrating the divine wedding, the marriage of my animus and anima, the union of the opposites at the root of all creation, I am filing for divorce.  The sad monster I’ve sewn together from all my collected failures will finally get to rest, no longer electrified into being by my fears and desires.  If I let him die, something unbuilt will be able to take his place. 

I don’t know what happens next.