Soulmates, Always

As I’ve recently posted, soul friends are much different relationships than the average or even a typical “best” friendship. Soul friends are very unique because of the connection shared, its intensity. Familiarity. Comfort. Acceptance and mutual understanding.

That fateful junior year, when I was completely lost, I believe the universe led me directly to “Compass.” Shortly before, my cousin mailed me a copy of The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield, which made me think of life differently than how I was raised. I started questioning everything; hence, my breakup with “Tom.”

“Bea”was sick with cancer and told me to live life, for me. She knew of my dreams and had always supported me; we shared a very special relationship. She knew “Tom” wasn’t the one for me and didn’t want me to settle, ever. After I finally had the courage to be on my own, she was so proud. Proud of me, what I’d do with my life.

Then the book came and challenged everything I’d ever been taught. But, I was fascinated. Addicted. Even started researching other religions, which gave poor “Carol” a stroke. Back then, she was much more reserved than she is now.

After that first, mind-blowing night with “Compass,” we were drawn to each other. An unexplainable connection. Started hanging out. Parties first, then tennis, the gym. To and from classes. Anywhere, I could see him, really. We developed a genuine friendship, with a lot of sexual tension, on both ends. However, I was more experienced and much more outgoing than him.

“Compass” carried a casual, quiet confidence. Very humble. Kind. Extremely talented. But reserved. To top it off, the guy was gorgeous. Like, crazy beautiful. Brown eyes, thick hair, dimples. Amazing hands. Built body. Best part was his personality. He wasn’t cocky, which made him even sexier; he didn’t even see it. Still doesn’t.

After a few unforgettable experiences and one camping trip, we finally rung the new year in together, as a couple. Overdue, for me, but also understood. I came out of a serious relationship and “Compass” had never really been in one. And even though our connection was very rare, we were different, too.

But, it was easy, the two of us. Effortless and balanced. Our eyes spoke another language. Seriously creepy how we’d look at each other, and just know and feel certain things. We transitioned well between friends and lovers. We had fun; in love but on a much deeper level. Indescribable. We lived presently, that’s for sure. It’s who he was, always will be.

I even started writing again; he helped editing. Supported me to continue the assignment into something more. So, I took a leap of faith and proposed a crazy, fucked-up idea to take an adventure and backpack in Europe.

“Compass” barely hesitated; it was part of his adventurous side. We made a plan, a year together, us and whoever crossed our path. Backpack a year and work while there to earn our way. We figured out where we wanted to go and how long to spend in each country, timeframe allowed for one year off school, costs. Researched possible jobs, depending on seasons.

Life began to look better; Bea’s loss didn’t affect me as much with “Compass” around. I finally became at peace knowing she was at peace with my grandpa. Everything was perfect. “Compass” was my soulmate. We were destined to meet. It was fate; Redfield’s philosophies only confirmed it.

Until spring break. “Jan” was stationed in NC so I went for the weekend. I wasn’t even looking. But I met my husband, first night there. Changed my flight and stayed the week. Even came home and told my parents I met the man I’d marry. They figured “Jan” and I had a little too much fun on my collegiate spring break. Although it was bittersweet, I had to tell “Compass,” which I had no idea how to do.

In May, I left. Moved to NC. We stayed in touch until that fall. “Compass” emailed and said it was too hard; wished me well. I was hurt. Pissed. Confused. The audacity.

I married and happily moved on to raise two children. Lived the “American dream,” as a military spouse, much like my mom and grandmothers.

“Compass” disappeared. Vanished. “Hick” tried to find him. Other friends. Me. We all wondered where his travels led him. How he was.

Problem is, I became lost, once again. I got caught up in my life as wife, mother, daughter, boss, and anything else so much that I lost myself. Completely different feeling when you lose your shit as an adult, though.

My happiness solely depended on my husband but he got deployed, again. I was consumed by him, and his happiness. The amount of love and pride I had for him was immeasurable. Then, came our children. I am a person who believes I began life with my husband, so he always came before them. Then was work, the “Brady” bunch, and the few friends I did have came last. Me, I was somewhere there.

Tragically, I didn’t see her anymore.

“Hick” found “Compass” the year before and we had emailed back and forth a few times. Ironically enough, he did have a few very adventurous occupations over the years but ended back in southern Illinois.

So, I reached out and asked him to edit my first ever, completed manuscript. Out of desperation for someone to understand Meg, I needed help. Not just with the book but I needed a friend outside my life. I fell apart when my husband left.

We developed a friendship, challenged each other, personally. He was experiencing difficulties in his relationship. I was struggling with myself, work, the “Brady” bunch. Both family and friends questioned my actions. Judgements. Morals and values. It was gut-renching, broke my soul.

I felt disappointment and failure at every turn, which is extremely difficult for a Type A personality with anxiety and epilepsy. My husband and our children were struggling terribly too. Things were spinning out of control, quickly. But the universe works in mysterious ways.

“Compass” became my direction, once again. This time, in form of a soul friend instead of soulmate. He encouraged my writing; actually edited my first manuscript. Supported the process of self-discovery. Reminded me of my self-worth as a person, just Meg; who I am without the titles of wife, mother, daughter, sister, boss, or friend. No demands or expectations. ME.

That’s what I’ve discovered through all of the madness this past year. Me again. And I love me, even if others don’t. My father, the best father and friend a girl could ask for, is responsible for one of my tattoos. His metaphor relates my journey to striking gold.

Last year, I found my gold. I’m so terrified to lose Meg but “Mike” said take one day at a time. He’s been telling me this for years but I could never “get” it. “Some days there may be a nugget of gold. Others, a flake or just dust. But, persistence, which you have, makes the difference.”

It’s funny because it’s my parents who I feared all those years. I wanted to live up to every dream and expectation they had as parents. A pressure I put on myself, not them. Along with their constant love and support and the direction of “Compass,” I found Meg last year. The irony.

I hid so much of myself; last year was a result, 37 years later. It was fucked up. Messy. Scary. Crazy. Selfish. But also, fun. Wild. Beautiful. And, absolutely necessary.

I learned the secret to life; self-love and care is fundamental to true happiness. As a result, I’m happy and healthy: physically, mentally, emotionally. Still working on spiritually. But I look forward to what the rest of my journey looks like now…One day at a time. LifeIsYourJourney

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Sincere thanks for reading about those who have had such an impact on my life. Soul friends are very special. My hope is you’ve been blessed with a soul companion of some kind as well.

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