Darek Bachorz Tribute

Darek Bachorz Tribute to My Love

My Love’s w Wings Sketch Vignette

 

My Love – a musician and biotechnologist.

Smart, gentle, peculiar, responsible, the bravest Man I know—and I met all the men you can think of.

I was raised in a conservative environment so of course in my twenties I decided to get married, so I dated to find the right man… I’ve dated men the world called powerful, successful. Famous. Strategic and ambitious. Desired. But I quickly saw through the paid PR because it’s absent when you sit face to face on a date. They all wanted me to destroy my projects, my values and dreams, they wanted me easy to control and dependable. After a few years of searching for The Right One I gave up disappointed again and again by the rot behind polished PR. I decided never to compromise my projects and future for any insecure loser. I carried so much disappointment and anger from these interactions, I decided to change my last name to Tofana, from Aqua Tofana.. And then by complete accident I met Him. 
 
 

No performance. Simply his actions speaking for itself. A biotechnologist, a musician. A Man who didn’t try to put me down, but to lift me up higher. Responsible and humble in a vital way. Our connection was so natural because the respect and reciprocity was simply present from the moment we met. He didn’t need to squeeze me smaller to feel big. We started to brainstorm on projects together. Together we made art. He wasn’t threatened by my talents and strenght. He honored them. And in his gentle, caring presence I healed from all the disappointment that came before him. Both of us slowly falling in love with each other, discovering more and more shared passions and curiosities. When I left to attend business conventions, he gave me a necklace of his I had asked him for—I wore it with my pearls the whole time there. We shared the most incredible moments together, and to my surprise, this gentle-eyed, sweetly-looking young man carried under his soft curls roaming infinities I thought I would never be able to share with anyone.

We agreed to not get tangled into romantic stereotypes because in conservative environments we both came from these motions dis-empowered women.
 

He admitted his love to me in his goodbye letter, I am doing it in every single project I curate now honoring things he loved and valued in this world.

Because in the environments he was born into control was called love, silence and stagnation were called loyalty, and self-betrayal was called a virtue.

Remember when I said at the beginning here how I planned to change my last name to Aqua Tofana? I couldn’t imagine changing my last name to the name of some of these losers. But now I am changing my last name to My Love’s name (of course). This is the least I can do. I am also channeling the qualities he passed down to me into the projects he respected so much. His strong, intentional Presence healed me, changed me—and now I am making sure to multiply it, nurturing it like our children, we never had the chance to bring to life.
 
 

There is an art piece.A robot arm. Set up as an performance instalation for the public, isolated behind glass wall. Called “Can’t help myself”. Programmed to clean up the fluid constantly leaking out of itself. The liquid was fake blood. It was programmed to make it appear to have human gestures. And at first, it seemed happy and proud of it’s job, dancing around when it had visitors. Cleanig up the leaking blood 24 hours 7 days a week. But three years later, it looked tired, hopeless, and like it’s living in a never ending cycle of constantly trying to put itself back together for the entertainment of other people. After a few years it stopped working – essentially dying. The relief it must have felt… It was programmed this way, it truy couldn’t help itself. And all the visitors just watched.

This is narcissitic abuse. It isolates people.

Narcissits make others clean blood which is leaking because they stab the people again and again. Narcissists pick on the wounds they themself created. And then they blame you for bleeding. So you clean it up, you apologize for it. But over time it’s not sustainable.

 
If anyone reading this is in it – the destructive influence hiding behind righteousness, tradition, “family above all else” – I see you. Wanting to live fully is not arrogance. And you are not alone. Path to healing is not linear but certainly possible, I walked it myself. 
 
“Narcissistic abuse leaves no scars”…? Besides those people inflict on themselves because they cannot handle the confusing terror happening inside of them. And all the autoimmune issues their bodies start to show because of the tension trapped in body. So not only that, but it also wounds in ways that steal joy from even the sunniest corners of souls. The world often does not see the ones who endure terror silently, the ones silenced by love to their abusers, who lose their light piece by piece. This is for them – for the ones who did not make it, and for those of us who did, carrying the grief and wisdom forward.
 
 
 
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