The Mask of Devotion

The Illusion of Synchronicity

I have always been a proponent of Carl Jung's psychological approach to relationships - specifically, his theory of synchronicity. I lived by the belief that the universe orchestrates certain encounters, moving the stars to bring two souls into the same orbit. 

I truly believed, and still do, that meeting him was an act of destiny. At the time, I felt certain he shared that conviction, and that we were destined to walk the same path.

I saw him as the "Gift from the Universe," and I opened my heart without reservation...

In the beginning, it felt like a masterpiece of synchronicity - a shared spiritual journey. Jung teaches us that the 'Self' is a quest for wholeness, requiring us to face our own failings with humility. I had hoped for a bond where we could both be seen in our raw, vulnerable, unpolished states. I realize now I was projecting a journey that only I was taking.

When the Mirror Becomes a Mirage

As time passed, the spiritual connection I cherished began to dissolve into something far more material. The man who once seemed like a mirror to my soul began to look more like a mirage. 

He wore a mask of devotion, whispering that he loved me and that nothing could come between us - but his actions began to tell a much darker story.

As his financial demands grew and the material world took center stage in our relationship, the humility I anticipated was replaced by a towering, defensive arrogance. He retreated into a cold, cruel, and superior silence. 

I never imagined he would hurt me as immeasurably as he did... 

The pain became physical, a weight on my chest that made it hard to breathe, leaving me drowning in tears through sleepless nights.

I tried to run from that excruciating pain, but I failed. Eventually, there is nowhere left to go. I found myself staring into the hollow center of my life, paralyzed by a grief that felt literal and heavy. I began to ask the questions we only ask when we are truly broken:

How can you find yourself when all you do is run away from it? Why am I here? What is the purpose of living when existing itself feels like a weight I can no longer carry?

The Twenty-Minute Choice

In those twenty minutes between worlds, my soul reached a crossroads. In those twenty minutes, my soul finally stopped running. In that brief span of time, my soul chose to come back - to face the truth and try to understand why the universe had brought us together in the first place.

I still feel pain from existing, but I stand tall…

The Architecture of Shadows

He betrayed not just my heart, but the very soul of the Jungian path. Instead of facing his shadow, he let it hollow him out. He chose the "Persona" - the mask of the lover - until it no longer served him. Then he let the mask drop to reveal a stranger who viewed love as a transaction rather than a transformation.

He began to look to me for financial help, and the moment I set a boundary - the moment the fountain of support ran dry - the mask slipped entirely. The "soulmate" was replaced by an arrogant stranger. When he could no longer use me, he chose the cruelest weapon in the narcissist's arsenal: silence.

A Ghost Limb in a House of Shadows

Despite the miles that separate us, and despite the clarity of his betrayal, my heart hasn't caught up to my head. My love for him has only grown stronger with each passing day; he is like a ghost limb that still aches even though he is gone. I am completely consumed by the memory of who I thought he was.

No matter where I look, he is there, woven into the fabric of my thoughts. He became the center of my universe, and even now, my heart remains anchored to a person who may never have truly existed…

Now I sit here, watching as the sun falls and the darkness slowly spreads its wings, calling the stars as its witnesses. I find myself wishing he could feel the same way I do - hopelessly and deeply in love. But as the light fades, I am forced to see the stars for what they truly are: distant, cold, and indifferent to our earthly masks.

You might think it would get better - that the heart would stop hurting and you wouldn't drown in your tears anymore - but it hasn't. 

I am still confused, deeply wounded, and heartbroken…

The Catalyst of Awakening

I am left with the heavy realization that while I was building a temple to our "destiny," he was merely scouting the grounds for what he could take. 

My love remains, a lingering ghost in a house of shadows, but my eyes are finally starting to open. 

Perhaps the universe did orchestrate our meeting - not to give me a partner, but to teach me how to distinguish the light of a soul from the glimmer of a mirage. It was a catalyst for a painful awakening.

Jung once said that "one does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

I am doing the work… I am making the darkness conscious.