An Epiphany

Last night someone asked me why I don't believe in soul mates. The answer is simple: If there is such a thing as one perfect person for each of us, or a "twin soul," then I've already found mine. What's the point of continuing the search for something you already have? Except I don't HAVE it. I did have it, once upon a time, but he's getting married in November. If I believe in soul mates - in the truest sense - then I will spend the rest of my life alone, always pining for what was once within my grasp. I am not that nihilistic.
I once believed that maybe there exists a variation of soul mates, which would allow that there are multiple people with whom we could easily share a fate. I came to this conclusion as a result of having loved very deeply a second time. But believing in multiple soul mates is also problematic. How do we decide what the appropriate number is? Could anyone be a soul mate if you happen to meet them at the right time and in the right place? Or are there certain mystical connections necessary to form that kind of attachment? How does one "prove" or "disprove" whether their partner is a soul mate?
I don't know what to believe anymore. I opened my heart twice; each time I was hurt so thoroughly that I've not yet begun recovering from either. The most recent was a year ago, and that wound still aches like a stubborn brain cancer. At least I have some temporal and geographical distance from my first love. I can look a that more objectively sometimes. But this past one throbs to my core.
I feel like a 28-year-old divorcee. I can't imagine ever loving someone that way again. Not because I don't want to, but I don't know if I'll be capable. I can't fathom having to face that pain all over again, feeding off the unhealed wounds of the past, torturing my dreams and waking life. Some people say they feel a void when they face loss. Where my void should be, there is nothing but pain. Sometimes I feel like it's my fault.
Not because of anything I did or didn't do. There's no sense in mourning events of the past. I was brought up believing that love is forever, unconditional, enduring and fulfilling. Sean Connery once said "I can't love people in slices." That's exactly how I feel. When it comes to people I let into my heart, it's all or nothing. And sadly it's not interchangeable. I can't force it to become nothing once it has been everything. And so I love people with very fibre of my being. But that isn't enough.
My first love still loves me, but he chose a different path. My second love hurt me so deeply that I cannot be with him in the foreseeable future. What is it about me that does not inspire those I love to reciprocate in the way that I deserve? Why does it seem like too much to ask for others to love me to the same depth that I love them? In this way, my pain is my own fault. Because I loved people who either could not or would not live up to my expectations (I tend to think it's the latter; if I'm capable of this kind of love, surely I must not be alone in that capacity. This means that they refuse to reciprocate on the same level).
I don't really know how to move forward. All I understand right now is to be stuck in the past. Maybe it's because the future is frightening to me in almost every way. I may eventually meet someone and think about loving again. Will I be able to move beyond the past? If I can, will he disappoint me as the others did?

To Toss, or not to Toss: that is my dilemma

I'm cleaning up my area of the house, one section at a time. After finally finished all the laundry, I'm now trying to get rooms tidied and organized before school starts on Thursday. Considering I've been doing absolutely nothing for over a week I think this is an excellent use of my remaining freedom before Fall starts.
The problem is that I'm rather hormonal and I keep running into things that were either Mike's, or stuff we acquired together. He left a lot when he moved out. Some of it is useful and some isn't. I use the dressers, couches, bookshelves, and kitchen supplies regularly. But our matching lamps and random knick-knacks - and his clothes still mixed with mine - is getting upsetting to come across. It's like a constant reminder of what I used to have, all the things that went wrong, the final catalyst that broke us up, and the attempted recovery of my shattered heart.
I feel like I need to move out of this house, to distance myself from space that Mike and I enjoyed together, but that's not possible. Anywhere we move to will not have the kind of space and privacy which Mom and I get here for this price. And I doubt many landlords would accept a tenant with the amount of cats we have.
It just really hurts when I think about things. Mostly it hurts me to think about how lonely I am now that I'm single again. Mike and I broke up, then Steff moved out. I spend most of my time by myself surrounded by memories of good times long past, and bad times that made the good times stop. It's indescribably painful.

The Timeline.

We broke up on November 20. That's nearly two months ago. I'm not going to sugar coat how I feel; I'm completely devastated. Because despite all our problems I never doubted my dedication to "us." It never occurred to me that he would be capable of such an intense level of malicious deceit that it would end our relationship. I knew he was immature, selfish, and ruled by his emotional baggage... but I actually believed when he said I was the top priority in his life. I defended him to other people; I stood up to friends and family who told me I'd be better off without him. But I was completely wrong about him. He has even less control over himself than I had initially thought.

The past two months have been spent trying to remove these greyscale glasses so that I can see my rainbow again. I know it's there, waiting for me, just outside of reach. And it will wait for me to heal, but it is also saddened by my lack of attention. I feel robotic most days, going through the motions of life while lacking any real joy that used to be mine. I don't regret the time I spent with Mike, nor the happiness we shared, but I wish I didn't have to go through such an intense period of grief & mourning. Furthermore, in addition to mourning a devastating loss, I'm also being forced to be responsible for myself financially. This persuasion into adulthood is daunting. It was long overdue but it's still difficult. Compounded with the fact that I don't know what to do with my future, I'm going through a really difficult transitional phase that just plain SUCKS.