A Fractured Existence
We’re accustomed to living as these multi-faceted parts of ourselves.
We compartmentalize the self and label this self the mother, the wife, the daughter, the technician, the dancer, the friend, and the lover, as examples. You get the picture. And as much as we desire and recognize these fractions, and we do, there is still something missing. We have gaps in our psyche, holes to fill. So we try filling these gaps with discoveries. Maybe we add ballroom dancing, tap dancing, and race car driving, essentially these add-ons we feel belong because logically they seem to fit, but still, we feel fractured and incomplete. So we have an affair, take a new job, and move across the country as the search continues.
Taking ourselves across the country is one thing, but taking on a whole new persona because life is different in California than say, New York, will only continue to fracture the self.
As we begin to adopt and adapt to this new culture, our fractured self continues to split until we become unrecognizable to ourselves, and certainly to others. And sure, that’s OK. It might be a much better self you’re creating, one that is happier, but maybe we should ask ourselves this question: have I just run from one thing to something else altogether in the hope of corralling longing? I don’t know. I won’t answer that for you, but I’m looking at all the ways I have divided myself up in this quest for happiness. I have essentially tried on multiple hats, personas, and costumes, in the search for greater meaning.
I call this my parallel self in need of finding whole. She is the fractured self. I am fractured, having multiple aspects of myself: the writer, the friend, the daughter, the seeker…
Being aware of these parallel aspects, the ones aforementioned, as fractions, gives me this new awareness, not to question them, but to embrace them. I embrace and hold dearly the aspects of myself I love. And the things that I long ago tried on and found no longer fit such as the wife, the juggler (taking on too many tasks at one time), the fearful one, the lonely one, the anxious one — all parts of myself no longer serving me, I have since let go.
Letting go is a death of the self, and we do this over and over.
We let pieces of ourselves die and fill ourselves with new buds yet to blossom, yet we are still faced with gaps. Holes. We will always look for ways to fill holes. Some of these holes will get filled while others won’t. I’ve learned to stop looking for ways to fill holes. I know I am fractured. I will never be complete. Instead, I look for ways to embrace fractions and place emphasis on what it is I know and love about myself.
By acknowledging this love for myself, the search to locate all that is missing becomes less desirable. I am anchoring the self by acknowledging and accepting that I am me. I will always look and try new things (always the explorer), but there seems to be a lot less emphasis on filling a gap. I let the spaces unfilled reside within me. They, too, are a part of wholeness.
