Conscious Uncoupling

I met Jason in 1998, in training for our first airline job as pilots. My first impression: what an a-hole! He came across pretty arrogant and stubborn. After I scored top of the class on the first written test, he decided I was smart enough to study with. Turned out, we were intellectually compatible, and shared the same twisted sense of humor. Over the next year, we ran into each other at work, exchanged hugs (as we did with many people), and chatted briefly about work. Typical friendship stuff.

Then came “the hug” that began a 15-year relationship. This was no ordinary hug – it was like cupid shot us both in the butt, and we recognized each other for the first time. In hindsight, it was the beginning of a spiritual contract. That was June 1999.

Within the first year of the romance, I got the clear message that this was only going to last until our early forties, so I shouldn’t get too comfortable. I interpreted this to mean Jason was going to die young, and I was incredibly pissed.

It was also within that first year that I started having issues with my balance. We had only been a couple for about 15 months when I was diagnosed with Friedreich’s Ataxia (FA), a degenerative neurological condition, usually resulting in wheelchair confinement and early death. I offered Jason a “get out of jail free” card, and told him he didn’t have to stick around, being that it wasn’t what he signed up for, and I would have left me at that point if I could. After making him take a week to think it over, he said the most amazing thing: “I don’t love you for your legs.” And he stayed. That still makes me cry.

About seven years in, after meeting a sister twin flame and some really intense training with the Merkaba, I had two incredibly vivid dreams. In the first, Jason put my hand in another man’s hand, said “He’ll take you the rest of the way. You’ll be fine. I gotta go,” and left me there crying. It also specified age 42. I was sure he was going to die when he was 42. In the second dream, it showed that I couldn’t heal my body as long as I was near Jason. Not just in a relationship with him, but even being around him, like our vibration was incompatible with my healing.

These dreams completely freaked me out. Now I was sure he was dying, and I even knew what age. Again, I was pissed.

In November 2013, right after my 42nd birthday (Jason is 1.5 years younger), we felt our contract end. These things happen at the weirdest times. I think we were having breakfast.
Me: “Did you feel that?”
Jason: “Yes, I did.”
Me: “I thing our contract just ended.”
Jason: “I think you’re right.”
That’s one of the nice parts about being married to another Indigo – you both feel that kind of thing. The downside is hearing what the other one is thinking when you fight. “What did you just call me?” “I get points for not saying it out loud.” There’s that.

We disagreed on what completing a contract meant. I thought it meant he was dying, and he thought it meant the work was over so now we can play. Mental note to self: it does NOT mean the work is over and it’s time to have fun. No one had any fun in 2014, trust me.

Someone did die at 42, but it wasn’t Jason, it was me. I changed so much over that year I can barely recognize myself at this point. My vibration changed so much that just being around Jason became unbearably painful for both of us. In October 2014 we finally decided that fate always wins, and we would have to part ways.

There was room for all the normal hate and blame people do, but we understood what was really happening. We had completed our mission together, quite successfully I might add, and it was time to follow our soul’s calling to our next destination. Keeping the love and friendship we built over the years helps us to move forward.

It’s hard to separate consciously, and there are some really tough days. It is still a loss, and a grieving process, but it is also an act of sheer bravery. We are redefining divorce, just as we redefined marriage. I feel so very blessed to have shared so many adventures with Jason over the years. It’s like we built this amazing launching pad for us both. Fly, Baby, fly!

2 Responses to Conscious Uncoupling

  1. Amy Greaves says:

    This is a true love story!


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