Lessons From a Black Friday: Year Six

There are a couple of things I want to write about. First, I’ll say year six has been incredible.

However, I will mostly write about the joy and sorrows of annihilation. It’s a theme I understand more deeply as every moment passes between then and now. As Pema Chodron writes, “Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us…It was all about letting go of everything.”

In loving Painter, I had to let go of everything I thought I knew. I had to embrace the annihilation.

Let’s start here: I was annihilated seven years ago on Black Fridays. Today, seven years ago, my life changed for the better.

Although I didn’t see it then, I couldn’t have known how the breadth of my life would have expanded. 

However, that is the gift of destruction; annihilation burns away life’s flotsam, and we are often forced to throw many other things overboard to lighten the load and save ourselves. Some of that discarded jetsam will be attachments we may hold dear.

The fires of destruction consumed the way I saw the world. I stumbled blindly, reaching for what seemed meaningful, only to discover destruction, turning what felt solid to ash. Friendships, opportunities, and reputation disappeared, burnt up by my failings and Painters’ smear campaign. Relationships that once seemed solid blew away into time’s ether. Annihilation revealed many of the friendships’ fragile and tenuous relationship bridges.

However, over time, what remained after annihilation was purified. The relationships, opportunities, and experiences remaining have heft.

The fires of annihilation consumed the entitlements and expectations I carried. Trauma-informed narratives and mythologies were unconsciously allowing me to justify unskillful, hurtful, harmful, dishonest, and immature approaches to love, sex, intimacy, and commitment. It burned away my masks and revealed my multitudes. It burned away feigned friendships, intimacies, and vulnerabilities, leaving a clean bedrock for stable opportunities and experiences upon which I could build a new life.

Annihilation’s fire cast light into the shadows, revealing many Uglies rooted in my unskillfulness and hiding under the rocks of generational traumas–trauma-informed choices that define a lifetime of shattered and estranged relationships.

The fires of annihilation consumed my pride and ego. It forced me to confront what was worth saving and what needed grieving. 

It burned through the emotional, mental, sexual, and life attachments I clung to too tightly—attachments to people, places, things, experiences, mythologies, and stories. I was forced to choose to surrender to the fire all that I knew or thought I knew or hang on so tightly that I was purged from existence.

The fires of annihilation consumed my narrative of Painter being my “soul purpose,” allowing me to see our relationship story’s shallow and self-aggrandizing nature. As a friend described us, the stories of our relationship and being the “Golden Couple of YoYo-Town” were revealed to be a false idol, my Golden Calf.

The fire burned back the curtains and revealed truths about Painter and our relationship. What I imagined as home was indeed Oz, an illusion we both fueled by word and deed.

Only after the fire was I able to see how my pursuit of Painter opened the door to abandoning my integrity and values. 

After the fire of annihilation consumed the narrative I carried about Painter, would I finally see Painter stripped of her entitled victim mentality and Shameless story arcs for who she is and not who I wanted her to be. 

After the smoke settled and the heat relented, I saw the villain Painter needed me to be in her story to justify her actions and defend against her discomfort.

Of course, as I picked through the ash after the fire, I could finally see myself for who I am, not who shame told me I was. Only then could I see the intimacies of the relationship with Painter for what they are and not what I imagined them to be.

Only after the annihilation was I free to rebuild my life.

Don’t misunderstand. I don’t hate Painter or our history. I don’t blame her for my annihilation. Painter’s smear campaign was simply fuel for a fire that was already smoldering. We made choices that made sense in the moment. I empathize with Painter’s choices, even as I struggle with the discomfort of knowing how I experienced our life together was so different than how she experienced our life. I know I didn’t make skillful choices either.

I don’t want bad things for Painter or her life. There are a lot of experiences with Painter that I cherish, moments I still honor.

However, I wish Painter a meaningful annihilation that leads to similar freedom I now experience, a destruction that unburdened me from the mythologies of shame, romance, and trauma. An annihilation that required I live accountable by choice and action and not under threat of punishment or trauma-informed anxiety.

Don’t misunderstand; I’m not a saint.

I took a smug joy at Centurion, Painter’s fiance, in January deciding to end their five-year engagement abruptly, a few months after they moved in together. Like me, I imagine he learned Painter has secrets and shame, too. 

Secrets and shame carry a lot of control over Painter as she pursues power and control to maintain a feeling of safety and security–even if those feelings are imagined. Plus, frankly, Painter likes attention.

Kudos to Centurion for seeing Painter’s lies, secrets, and shame, whatever they tended to be. It had to hurt to end the relationship.

Kudos to him for choosing not to play Jester in Painter’s Star Chamber of Suitors, Apologists, and Enablers. I was willing to overlook Painter’s patterns for a long time to play any role she wanted. I’m not sure I would have ever left.

Perhaps Centurion chose annihilation over mythology?

Painter’s fleeing from YoYo-Town to western Minnesota soon afterward has also become a bit of an inside joke with friends. I understand the desire to escape the discomfort. I know the urge to hide. For years, whenever I would go someplace local where I might see Painter, broken knights, or her Flying Monkeys, I struggled with debilitating panic attacks. 

Chef has often commented that showing up despite the discomfort is one of my best qualities. I might bitch, but I am committed to showing up and leaning in to learn the truth beneath the emotional and mental experience. 

Of course, Lexapro, running 30 miles per week, years of therapy, writing vulnerably, and being open to grief and hurt provide the emotional space to show up while exploring my life despite the intense emotional discomfort and chest pains. 

It’s a practice. 

However, despite my many flaws and the terrifying chest pain, I’m committed to doing better, even if it kills me.

I wanted to flee, too. I showed up anyway. I always show up.

However, based on my experience with Painter, my approach to growth and accountability differs from her practice. She hides, rumormongs, and runs. People avoiding the discomfort of annihilation tend to mob and run. 

Instead, Painter plunges into the victim role of the drama triangle. She knows men will show up to defend her honor. I did it with Indy and her ex-husband. 

Patsy, Davey, Warren, Centurion, Centurion’s sons, Dale, and other men all picked up the sword at different times, seeking to play a part in Painter’s psycho-drama. 

Ironically, after all this time, I’m still making space for Painter to be more than a trophy, conquest, victim, or queen. However, maybe that is all Painter wants to be. Perhaps that is how she wants to be seen.

I’ve talked with enough people now to know that the vulnerability of being seen opens the door to feelings of weakness instead of courage. Painters might need these monolithic stories of identity to feel safe and secure. I don’t know because all these years later, I realized I never knew her. After all, perhaps that is because she didn’t want to be known to me.

Annihilation came to me at 48 years old. In that experience, annihilation has taught me, as Chodron writes, “that which is indestructible” of me. 

Among other important things, I still care about Painter. No amount of smearing and venging will break that because love is indestructible. I know that I loved her in moments and betrayed her in other moments. We were what we needed at the moment. All relationships are impermanent, even the ones we love. However, I also know I cannot care for Painter–she isn’t my queen, and her feelings aren’t my obligation.

Today, seven years ago, I lost everything I imagined was meaningful about my life and future. Now, I recognize life and the moment is impermanent. The relationship with Painter remains influential as a waypoint, but it doesn’t define me. The Buddha said, “Every morning, we begin again. What we do today matters most.”

Showing up as I am in the moment is the practice. As a result, today, I have a magnificent relationship with a woman who shows up and doesn’t run away when it is uncomfortable. Chef accepts me and isn’t interested in being saved. She is a brilliant business partner I can count on not to steal money or lie.

I have a relationship with my 10-year-old granddaughter. I have an adopted sister who participates.

I continue to travel all over the country for work and fun. In the summer, I go to parties every weekend.

Because all things are impermanent, I know they could disappear tomorrow through a new round of annihilation. I could disappear, too.

However, I am learning what remains will be indestructible.

POSTSCRIPT

I hope annihilation finds Painter.

Not out of pettiness or revenge but so she can build a life without the victim narrative and the mythology of relationship heroes and monsters–a place where she can be genuinely free and stop hiding behind Oz’s curtains. 

POST POSTSCRIPT?

Of course, I have stories about what happened and who she is. She may lack a conscience and be perfectly content with her actions.

She may already feel free.

I may be wrong completely.

Although, I doubt it..,