I met the man who would become my husband for 22 years during the last year of college. He was a widower, 10 years older than me, and had a young son from his first marriage.
We began with a passionate and impulsive relationship, driven by our complementary addictions. Among my personal distortions about what it means to love was the idea of being valued by a man perceived as more experienced and intelligent, as well as feeling emotionally and financially secure.
Also, given the emotional distortions within me, I was not a good mother and left a rather difficult legacy for my children. My unacknowledged pain and arrogance translated into severity, control, and threats. Not knowing how to deal with my own emotions, I was unable to teach them the importance of always staying open to theirs. By maintaining a facade of benevolence and perfection, I also failed to teach them that truth and transparency about our mistakes are the path to their correction. I made them special to me, driven by an underlying desire for that value to be attributed to me as well.
Motherhood brought its own experience of validation and fulfillment of a feminine role, and gradually sexuality lost its appeal. At the same time, my focus shifted to exploring spiritual activities that my husband did not share. In the marriage, our unresolved addictions and codependencies created the foundation for the events that led to the separation.
Like a bomb, sexuality reappeared, projected onto a friend on this spiritual path I was following. It was one of the most challenging times of my life, as it felt like having the devil and the angel fighting for my soul. Of course, this is just a symbolic way of expressing it. The devil represented my unresolved emotions, and the angel my conscience. My character was not sufficiently developed, and certain inappropriate situations ended up happening. I shared the situation with my husband, and together we tried to start over. Unfortunately, we were unable to address the root causes of the events or properly process the pain they caused.
About six years later, the wound reopened. This time, there was no one I felt particularly attracted to. I had reconnected with old childhood friends, whose dynamics carried a strong sexual undertone typical of Panamanian culture, and I developed emotional bonds with new friends. These connections were interpreted as a betrayal.
At the time, neither of us had the emotional maturity to resolve the problem, and the marriage ended. That happened in 2015.
After a year of grief, I decided it was time to try again. I became involved with three men in succession, almost like a chain. None of these relationships were rooted in love as I now understand it; instead, emotional addictions were the true force behind the attraction.
For almost a year, I’ve chosen not to pursue any soulmate-type relationships. Instead, I’ve been exploring what love truly means from God’s perspective and gaining a deeper understanding of my past mistakes and the emotions that drove them. I’m also learning to embrace and cherish love within myself and extend it to others. I believe this is the most loving step I can take toward growing in love and eventually finding my soulmate.