Personal Legend Part II

In pondering about our Personal Legend we can’t help but also give a moment or two to personal attachments.  Personal attachments may or may not skew your ability to recognize and connect with your Personal Legend, attachments in general hinder us. We become dependent, emotionally and spiritually.

This has never been more evident to me as it is now. On October 14^th, 2011 my dog Atum got out of the yard, and was never seen again. The journey this event has involuntarily put me through has been emotionally staggering. I never knew how attached I was to Atum as I do now. It feels as if a piece of my heart has been anatomically removed with no anesthetics used. This event has filled me with so much rage, anger, confusion, and weakness. Weakness, because I never realized how dependent I had become on Atum, having Atum gave me a sense of purpose, responsibility. He kept me sober.

This is when this emotional journey became interesting, although I felt crushed, I was masking the pain the only way I knew how. That’s when sobriety went out the window, and I began to relapse, repeatedly.

I rationalized that no one knew how I felt; no one knew how much I loved him. To a certain extent I still feel that way. But I was using these excuses to allow myself to go to that very dark place that I had not been to in a long time. When I was high, I was safe; I was protected from the pain of my reality. What Atum once gave me; unconditional love, respect, and loyalty, was gone. My sense of purpose was suddenly removed from my life. Atum was everything to me, and not having him was more than I could bear. This was a pain I had not experienced in a very long time, and it sent me into a drug-filled spiral.

Attachments can limit you and your abilities. This is a perfect example, though I loved Atum with all my heart, I had created this grand attachment, that once served a great purpose, but now that it’s gone, is serving as a great hindrance. One morning as I was coming down, I realized that I needed to say good-bye. I realized that I was getting high, because I didn’t want to let go, I was holding on, as if for life itself. I had to come to terms with my loss, accept that Atum is gone, accept that I may never see him again. It was time to pick myself up, drag my ass into the shower, and move on with my sober life.

No attachment is worth risking your life or health for, and it’s the last thing Atum would have wanted to see me go through. Our time together had come to an end, and now it’s time to take the lessons he taught me, and move on.  Though I will never forget Atum, and quite frankly doubt that I will ever get another dog again, I have to turn a new page.