There’s a darkness in this house. The taint of misdeeds registered in omniscience but to which the personal psyches of the family have built a psychic wall. The price paid by the children for the selfishness of the parents.
My grandfather’s well of love was empty, dark, and dry. And try as she might my mum could never win love from this emotionally barren man. There is a flattery in being manipulated. There is a transaction in being used. These things she mistook for affection and connection, and she sold herself up to them for a chance of being love.
My step-fathers well of love was long-forgotten, scorned, and abandoned. For him, the answer to the pain of other’s lovelessness was to die to love, and without love, becoming loveless himself, other’s become mere threats or resources to his selfish self. How else could at man be so cruelly envious of a child for its mother’s love? Co-dependent and desperate to win love from the emotionally unavailable my mum sold herself love and her children up to his cruelty to reassure him she was fully his possession.
All these desperate and dark deeds to win an unwinnable external love. What are these unlit dramas of these small fragile creatures to me?
I will win the fruit of the lessons they refuse to learn and break this family curse: the well of love is within. There is no filling it with outside things. The only way to fill the inner well is jump fully into it and fill it with your own presence. And so it is, I break their family name, and take the name Lovewell.