A yoga teacher talks about a relationship that left her feeling…drained.
I have many passions in life, but if I had to narrow it down to just a handful, they would be yoga, cooking, fabulous footwear, dark innovative chocolate and vampires.
Yup, you heard me, vampires.
In fact, I consider myself to be fairly schooled in the subject, so much so that I might just call myself a vampirelier: a knowledgeable vampire connoisseur. The funny thing is back in the day, pre-Twilight craze, I would always get the hairy eyeball when people would come over and view my vast collection of books and encyclopedias on vampires. Now the blood suckers are mainstream in Hollywood and it would be frowned upon to not agree that Robert Pattinson is damn hot.
The world has caught up with me, and now realizes the incredible allure of these creatures (or sexy actors that play them), but I still held on to my little fantasy that I would someday run into a Brad Pitt vampire look-alike and he would sweep me away into his sexy, dark vampire world. Obviously, I’m not holding my breath, but I continue to devour the genre of books. I was neck deep (the puns will keep coming, be forewarned) in my current read, longing for the adventure and excitement that the book revolved around. In the yogic world you would call it ‘manifesting your fantasy into reality’. In the vampire world, you could call it ‘summoning’, and what did I manage to pull off? My very own vampire boyfriend. Be careful what you wish for, because he came to my life ready to sink his emotionally draining canines into my heart.
Before you write me off as a complete nut, let me define the three different types of vampires for you (yes, I took a course in college).
- Historical. These are the deceased that were dug up by early Eastern Europeans. Vampires were often the ‘excuse’ for plagues when there was no other explanation. Dig up the evildoer, stake them and hope that all the town’s woes will disappear. They were the ultimate scapegoat.
- Literal. You may have heard of this guy called Dracula? He would be the prime example. Any vampires in novels or film.
- Psychic. No, they can’t read your jugular and tell you your future. These vampires roam among us every single day. Psychic vampires don’t drain blood, they drain emotion and energy to survive. This is where my vampire falls.
I had always wanted a vampire in my life, and in he waltzed! Summoned, manifested, however you want to call it by none other but little ol’me. The funny thing is, vampires are only allowed to enter a human’s dwelling when they are given consent or invited in. Chaos was written all over him from the very beginning: beautiful Hollywood actor, recluse, an emotionally unavailable man with difficulty seeing past the tip of his own nose. We’ll call him Pire to protect the un-innocent. Pire walked in, I called the cards as fate and readily invited him into my life…knowing deep down that there was a major missing link.
What ensued was about a four-month relationship with Pire, followed by a six-month recovery period—and as we all know it’s supposed to take half the time of the relationship to recover. In a phrase: I was pissed. No matter how hard I tried to discipline myself, I found my fingers being lulled to the keyboard to google him (evil, evil tool that google). Every time I ran into him at the studio it was like someone did a swift ninja kick to my knees. Basically, it took an absurdly long time for me to remove the thick veil from my eyes and see the true situation: I was being drained and was doing nothing to stop it except place the blame on him.
In yoga, this draining of energy is a direct violation of the yama (characteristics to follow in life) asteya (not stealing). Both Pire and I were guilty of crossing this yama. He had been stealing my energy, but I was allowing it because of my extreme feeling of lack at the idea of losing him. My belief was that my happiness was contingent on his love…and in believing that, my life force was draining away. I completely closed my eyes to the fact that I had let him in and could rescind the invitation at anytime, but instead fell deeper into his shadow. I slowly climbed back out of the hole, but without any kind of gratitude for what he had shown me about myself. I still only felt a void.
It all came to a head recently when I finally kissed a guy. Not only a non-vampire guy, but a guy that I really, really like. All was going swimmingly until, mid-kiss, an ad for Pire’s show comes on in the background on the TV. I nearly screamed in the poor guy’s mouth (note: the quickest way to freak someone out) in frustration.
I can’t even escape the soul-sucking energy in my first kiss with a potentially new wonderful beau?
After the initial annoyance passed, instead of giving in like I had been doing for months, I opened up my eyes. I had been letting this rancid energy suck at me and pull my life force and optimism for love out of me for way too long—and I was the one allowing it. He wasn’t the demon to fight any more, it was me. I knew it was time to rescind my vampire’s invitation. So, what did I do? I kissed right back and allowed myself to be in the arms of someone who truly wanted me there.
Someone who might suck on my ear lobes, but not on my soul. Someone who was solid, and real, and good. And with that, my trance began to fade, the weight on my shoulders began to lessen and I woke up from what felt like the longest night of my life to a new bright sun-filled day, with no more veil blocking my view. It was time to stop blaming, and start being thankful. Pire taught me more about myself then possibly anyone ever has. I now know that my happiness will never be contingent on another being; human or vampire. I will respect myself enough to not let someone steal from my energy, love and ability to see clearly.
Pire unknowingly gave me this great gift, and as a thank you, I staked him.
hot on elephant
July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. I Still Think of You. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. Reading This Takes Guts. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD.