Thank you for that insightful post, Kirk. I agree with you (partly, allow me to explain).
I have had similar obsessions in the past, and I admit that it is one of the most difficult things to break free of an addiction to anything (be it a person, or some other event/item/process which one has grown comfortable with), but what is so unusual about this particular experience is the internal division I am experiencing because of it. There is a part of me that wants to have the experience and insists on calling it something, which exists side by side with another part of me that insists on saying that it is not that something. In other words, I am continually beset, in addition to the physical experiences of addiction, by an internal debate.
It is this division of the self that leads the more logical part of my mind to formally recognize it as an obsession and not love. At the same time, however, I significantly recognize that love is far more important than being "in love" as you have said. That it is an active and productive aspect of my personal consciousness, and not simply some experience which we can or should yearn for.
Ultimately, being "in love" I think is very selfish, because it relishes and enjoys the experience without regard for much else either as a part of the self or in some other person. But that being said, I also agree with you when you say that there is something which this particular experience is attempting to resolve. With the aid of your post (and I hope I am not sounding too mystical or vague here), I am beginning to recognize that the experience of being "in love" - to the particular extremes I am experiencing - is a call to love, purely and actively, without yearning for some experience of being "in love". Can it be possible that I am experiencing this pain and agony and emotional ecstasy in some type of resistance against the very effects themselves? I am being called to extend myself outward in a measure of active love, to extend my consciousness and my devotion to the universe at large?
Perhaps so. I have posted that it is heavenly to breathe in and a hellish experience to breathe out, and as of late, (though the extent of the experience has varied greatly) it continues to be so. Except that, through some of the methods that Jenny has pointed out to me, I have significantly reduced that particular pain, and I believe, now, as a result of much of your assistance here on this board, that this pain will leave entirely and that I will then be able to give away the most beautiful of experience and allow it to fade in my own life because I will be actively attempting to give it to others. Does that make much sense? I doubt it?
To breathe in is to take from the universe. To breathe out is to give back to it. Why should the pain be mostly associated with giving back: some selfishness or jealousy that insists upon holding back what it believes should be maintained? I was insistent on receiving some love, some entendre of consciousness, some devotion of will, and without any rightful sense for doing so. That is what caused the pain in breathing outward. I would not give back until I had received.
But thanks to your post, and to what I am currently reading in
Enchanted Love: The Mystic Power of Intimate Relationships, I believe that I am prepared to productively love, to creatively love, to give of myself without expecting anything in return, to actively love, rather than to "yearn for love in all its ecstasy". Ecstasy can never be experienced, in my humble opinion, in any truly spiritual sense because we wish to experience it. Ecstasy is only the true result of an existential state of giving and receiving in response to that gift (whether it be of love, consciousness, or will).
This thought, above all others, has eased the pain from breathing and the continual state of pain in the chest. The thrilling highs, the purest peaks of devotional ambiguity which I had so recently attributed to the highest state of my being, I have learned to release to the Universe: to be the cause of that experience in others, if possible.
Once again, though, I feel that I have you all to thank, for sending me your light, your healing attention, and I hope that I can maintain the lesson that I have learned from this experience ever forward in my mind.
Hi Daniel. First off, much light being sent your way. It's tough being in the throws of an obsession. You're absolutely doing the right thing by making it creative. I've found that when I'm down, writing a song about what I'm down about instantly makes me feel better about it. What was debilitating and numbing becomes creative and productive. It's a very effective part of healing.
I'm the kind of guy that likes to cut to the heart of things and sometimes that can come off as insensitive. I apologize in advance if anything I say in this post comes out harsh. That being said...
Let's start with a definition of love. I have a profile up on a gay dating (okay, cruising) site, the last line of which states that I'm ideally looking for someone with "knowledge of themselves, what they want, and the difference between love and addiction." The physical and emotional sensations we commonly refer to as "being in love," no matter how endearing and enjoyable, are a form of addiction. The tightness of chest, the inability to think about other things, the incessant longing, the hairtrigger jealousy, are all symptoms of addiction. "In love" narrows our focus to unhealthy extremes. It makes you do things like, say, move to Padukah, KY to do dinner theatre and be with your lover when you were two auditions away from landing a lead on Broadway. It limits us.
In contrast, true love expands one's self. Love encourages freedom. Where "in love" shuts you down, love opens you up.
I was addicted to a great guy some 5 years ago. We went on a couple of dates and things were fine. Then he did a complete 180 and never gave me a reason why. Months later I asked him if we could make an agreement between the two of us that we would never be together so that I could get the idea out of my head and stop thinking about it. To my surprise he didn't want to make that agreement, but still didn't want to date me either. So I had to get over it on my own. Actions speak louder than words, and his actions told me it was hopeless. He's seeing someone else now and the three of us are friends and movie buddies. But the whole year I was stuck on him I kept asking "Why am I doing this to myself?!?!? I know this isn't going to work out! This is stupid!" When I was really able to take a look at it I figured out that I really didn't want to be with anyone at the time, and a great way to stay single is by falling for someone you can't have. If I had figured that out sooner I could have thanked my addiction for helping me out and been done with it. That was the last lesson I hope I ever have to learn about addiction.
Again in contrast, my love for my last boyfriend was like a balloon in my chest. In that relationship I learned the kind of faith, devotion and commitment I was capable of. I learned what it was like to have a true partner, and to be one. Starting and ending the day with him made it easier to approach everything in my life from a position of love. We encouraged each other to be our best. My spirit expanded incredibly in that year and 1/2. And it sure hurt like hell when we broke up and that wasn't there anymore, and it took awhile for me to adjust to the fact that he wasn't going to be the love of my life. That was a real loss that I had to get over.
My point is I don't think these feelings for Jake are love, I think they're addiction. I don't know what purpose it's fulfilling for you, but I would suggest examining what it could be, accepting these feelings for what they are and appreciating them for that and nothing more. They are serving you somehow, and the sooner you know in what way that is, the easier it will be to let them go when the time comes that you no longer need them i.e. when they're no longer serving but damaging you.
It's also important to practice love with yourself while you're going through this. I have a hard time with this part. Even when you're at you're lowest, know that there's nothing wrong with you as a person. You're just on your path. Be gentle. You're right where you're supposed to be right now. Give yourself the same understanding you'd give someone else.
I think I've expressed all of this better elsewhere but I hope it made sense here. Good luck and all the love in the world to you.
Kirk
