A soulmate is difficult to delineate.
The reason is there are different types of them.
We have healthy relationships with some and unhealthy ones with others. There are the soulmates with whom we get along and the ones with whom we disagree. The faultless partners, versus the passionate lovers.
No matter what type of relationship we have with them, soulmates don’t fail to shake up our world. This is precisely how a soulmate is recognizable. Meeting them is so intense that they pierce through our whole being.
The word “soulmate” describes itself: a mate for the soul.
Some of us end up with our soul mates—and it’s beautiful. But the reality is, some of us don’t.
I’ve entered relationships with two soulmates during my lifetime—and I lost them both.
The loss was awful. The main reason for my devastation was realizing that I won’t meet someone else who’ll pierce through me the way they did. I was fearful that if I were to meet a new, potential soulmate, he wouldn’t be able to crack through the emotional wall I’d built within myself.
I perceived losing my soulmates as the worst thing that ever happened to me. What benefit could spring from losing a soulmate?
It took me a long time to realize that a lot can spring from losing a soulmate.
There are benefits to staying with them and benefits to losing them. Whether they stay or leave, soulmates evoke an immense awakening within us. They crack our shell and expose the pearl inside of us.
My awakening was too great to keep lingering on the whys. I stopped seeking answers to why I lost them—because the loss is the actual answer.
I know the answers would have eventually come to me in one way or another. Lessons always find their way to us, and mine have appeared through my soulmates.
The awakening that occurred within me has taught me detachment. We’re usually quite attached to our soulmates, and I believe that the people who have stayed together with their soulmates have mastered detaching from them—while they’re with them.
When we’re afraid of losing something, and we clench our fists around it, we end up losing it.
Only when I lost them did I learn how to let go.
I let go of my expectations of others. I let go of the false image I created of myself and accepted the one that they—my soulmates—have unraveled for me.
They came crashing in, causing me to drop all the masks I wore. They revealed my true face and helped me meet my true identity.
Meeting them and losing them has taught me that sometimes love isn’t enough—passion, desire and security aren’t enough. And I learned that having a soulmate doesn’t necessarily mean being in a relationship with them. Relationships require work, and some soulmates aren’t ready for it.
Not ending up with my soulmate(s) has helped make me a more relaxed, calm human being. Losing them has allowed me to discover the silence that’s at the core of my being. The journey with them drained me to great extents, so much so, that I forgot the true meaning of peace.
It’s ironic how soulmates can bring both peace and conflict simultaneously. Loving them again seems tempting. All the love, the passion, the battles—good and bad—the tears, the laughter…all these mixed emotions are desirable.
But then I look at myself, and I can feel this favorable space in my chest when I take a deep breath. I feel an enjoyable emptiness that I couldn’t feel with either of them. The love we have for soulmates is too penetrating and sharp; it’s bitter with all its sweetness. I had to withdraw from the complexity of those emotions.
I’m glad I didn’t end up with someone who can control my emotions, my thoughts and my being so easily and swiftly. It’s because we love them so much that they can hold this control over us.
I want to end up with a mate who my soul can live with and without. I want a love that doesn’t leave me a slave to it—and with soulmates, we’re prone to end up as slaves of love. And maybe this isn’t what I want. Perhaps I want an aware, conscious, evolved love.
Because truthfully, I think love toward soulmates might always remain a childish kind of love—our attachment to it is mysterious.
I don’t want a love that’s like a magnet pulling me toward it without my consent. I want, for once, to choose who I pull myself toward; I want to journey there on my own two feet and claim him.
But I don’t want love claiming me.
I let go of my soulmates—now, I am ready for my mate.
Author: Elyane Youssef
Image: Author’s own
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina