Do you feel stuck after divorce?
Are you waiting for an apology or an explanation?
Do you want to be able to find closure from your divorce and move on?
If so, I have some good news for you. You CAN find closure. And you can do it alone.
Have you ever fallen for someone that turned out to be bad for you? Who left you worse off than you were before? Who perhaps used you or abused you?
My hand is sure is sure raised.
And I know I’m not alone in this.
So why is it that we fall so easily for those who treat us badly? And what can we do to keep it from happening again? Learn more here.
My school of the last five years is involved in a meiosis of sorts, splitting and dividing into two halves, each pulling some of its identity from the whole. Good schools become families, adults coming together with the shared goal of nurturing and launching children. The restructuring of a school is the break up of a family, with all of the associated heartache and opportunity. And it’s often a break up that nobody wants.
Last night, we celebrated the final day of the existence of the staff as a single entity before the last strands are cut today as we move into our new schools and our new roles.
And it was a wonderful celebration. Equal parts belly laughs and tears. Differences set aside in lieu of gratitude for shared experiences and the unique gifts that each person shared during their tenure.
Yes, it was sad. We traded stories about some of our most challenging – and rewarding – students, realizing as we shared that we may never again be in the company of others who participated in that same memory. We grew a little apprehensive, wondering how in the world we would ever build this kind of connection and camaraderie in our new schools. The task feels daunting, especially when compared to the already-built relationships. We poked fun at each other’s warts without causing distress because we all know it comes from a place of love and acceptence. And we wondered if our new family would be accepting as well.
It was sad. It is sad.
But it’s not only sad.
Last night was a rememberence and celebration of all that had been and the early excitement of what is to come. A perfect blend of memory and anticipation. An acknowledge of the end tempered with gratitude that it existed.
As I listened to two talented teachers lead a inside-joke filled presentation, I thought how wonderful it would be if we could always approach life’s endings in this way.
With equal parts belly laughs and tears.
If there has to be an ending, why not make it a good one?
“What am I going to tell my mom?” were the first, shameful words out of my mouth when I learned my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend was pregnant.
I was 14. He was 16. We had only been dating a few weeks. I was still years away from being ready to be sexually active. He welcomed that because he had felt pressured to have sex in his previous relationship.
There was no infidelity involved; the conception had occurred towards the end of their relationship and before ours began.
So really, the news had nothing to do with me.
But that wasn’t my initial reaction.
I had been put on birth control pills a few months prior to manage painful cycles and I was afraid that doctors (and others) would assume that they were also (or even only) desired in an attempt to prevent pregnancy.
And in that moment, my reactive brain thought that this evidence that my boyfriend had been sexually active before me would lead people to assume that he had been sexually with me.
And in that moment, I said something I shouldn’t.
My boyfriend looked shocked. Hurt.
And rightfully so.
It took some time, for him to recover from my misstep and for me to process the news, but eventually I responded with the compassion that I really felt and he realized that my first reaction wasn’t my real reaction.
The first reaction upon hearing big news is impulsive, bypassing any usual filters and mental processing. The initial response is most likely selfish because that is where our thoughts go when controlled by our more primal and reptilian brain. Those opening words are spoken by fear, untamed by rational thought and often amplified by shock.
And those words are frequently a blow to the person who spent time and energy gearing up for this conversation. They may have spent countless hours dissecting their message and carefully selecting the right words with which to deliver it.
Only to be struck with the hammer of the first reaction.
But the first reaction is rarely the real reaction.
It’s quite comical in retrospect.
On our first date, my now-husband expressed some hesitancy and concern about me.
And not because I was yet to be legally divorced.
Or because I was engaged in a confusing and overwhelming legal battle with a criminal ex.
Or even (okay, especially) because I was still an emotional wreck trying to learn to walk again on my own.
No, none of that (at least from what was divulged that afternoon over coffee) scared him.
What made him dubious was an off-handed comment I made when he tried to get me to order food.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m kind of a pain to feed since I’m vegetarian and gluten and I don’t get along. Don’t worry about me,” I said with a smile as I accepted my welcomed coffee.
It was only years later that I learned that he was concerned that our dietary differences, specifically in regards to my avoidance of meat, would be insurmountable. I was surprised, to say the least. And relieved that he took the leap regardless and that we’ve negotiated a respectful relationship around food.
I love to see the ecstasy on his face when he enjoys a good crab cake more that I dislike the smell. In fact, I even made them from scratch for him as a birthday present. With the house wide open. In the middle of an early freeze. He’s understanding of my inability to buy raw meat and courteous to air out the house when he cooks it. When we are traveling, I frequently offer to forgo restaurants that work better for me so that he can partake of the regional carnivorous delights. Besides, salads only have so much variation:)
Last week, I realized how far he’s come from being afraid of our differing diets. We bought a grill – our first together – both for ourselves and for a party we just had yesterday. When we ended up selecting one too small for a “veggie only” patch of real estate, he immediately went over to the accessory section to find a dish that can be placed on the grill to keep any veggies (or tofu!) safe from any offending meat grease. When I labeled one of two spatulas “VEG,” he commented that it was a great idea. And then last night, he suggested I hide my spatula to keep it from inadvertantly being chicken-christened by an uninformed guest.
He doesn’t understand my revulsion around meat, but yet he respects it. I don’t understand his desire to eat flesh, yet I honor it. We both come from a place that the other person is more important than what is on their plate. After all, it’s not really the differences that divide a couple; it’s the reaction to them.
Little did he know years ago that one day he would actually be protective of my eating habits and that he would still be putting up with some of my occassional emotional wreckedness.
It reminds me of that quote often misattributed to Twain –
I’ve had a lot of worries in my life. Most of which never happened.
How true.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 