by John McCormick
I had it all figured out. Everything was unfolding just as planned.
From the outside looking in, the path I was on was the American dream. There was the early retirement, the forever home on the lake, a boat on the dock, and the youngest of five children about to leave the nest. It was a life built on hard work, proper savings, church attendance, with a little bit of luck and grace thrown in. If you asked me, if you saw me, everything was going just fine. All looked good.
But if you could have seen behind the closed doors and drawn curtains and felt what was happening in my heart and plugged into my deepest thoughts, a very different picture would have revealed itself. That picture was one of sadness, pain, and loneliness. I somehow stayed in an unhealthy marriage for 22 years, and it left me feeling ashamed and insecure. I had a desire for human love and a deep longing to find the love of God. I thought that maybe if I just went to church more, spent more time in adoration, added a couple more rosaries, that would help me to get there. That dream fed my ego, and I started to believe that I was better than others. Surely God would love me now because I was doing so much more than other people; they didn't even go to church regularly. That feeling then turned into an even deeper loneliness.
I started drinking more because that made me feel better, until it didn't. I found my way into AA with its 12 steps, and an entirely new understanding of God. Sobriety was great! I was feeling positive and was finally getting closer to God. I could feel God and could sense his presence in myself and in others. Surely my wife was going to come around. She would get on board and support this new way of living.
She did not, and she grew angrier. After about a year and 9 months of sobriety, all my other relationships had changed and become closer and more loving. Something profound was happening inside and outside of me. But not with my wife, so I made the difficult decision that I could no longer live in that relationship. I moved out and asked for a divorce.
I moved into the unknown: from lake house to apartment; from a forever home to “Where am I going to live next?”; from “The kids will all come here to hang out and bring their kids” to “Will I see them on the holidays?”; from a stable financial outlook to a much more murky picture; and from “Look at me, it’s all great” to “Look at me, I’m divorced, middle-aged, and living in an apartment.”
These last few years for me have been beautiful and stormy, calm and frightening. There are things that have kept me grounded, loving, and whole. The companionship, relationships, and love of other men through Illuman are at the top of that list. It is hard to describe the power, freedom, and connectedness of being in a circle where you are heard and not judged, seen, and not labeled.
I was on a retreat recently with men from Illuman, during which we looked back at our adolescence. This evoked some strong feelings for me. The emotions, to my surprise, were bursting through my body. I did not understand why this was happening, especially in front of all these men. That night I wrote that question in my journal and answered myself this way: "Could it be that they are all divine and that I will be safe?" Yes, I have come to believe that we are all divine, and that in this circle of divinity, I am not alone. I am loved and supported. That is the beauty of Illuman.
John McCormick lives in Travelers Rest, South Carolina. His email address is johnpmccormick26@gmail.com.