Virtual Reality

Posted on by stilllearning2b

He noticed her as soon as her entered. An older woman, well dressed, standing at the counter watching the gemologist examine a rather large stone under magnification.

As my husband completed his transaction, paying for the new battery and taking possession of his watch, he couldn’t help but overhear the exchange between the woman and the expert.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I don’t know how else to tell you. The stone isn’t real.”

“The bastard!, she exclaimed,”The other one wasn’t real either.”

Through the remaining conversation, my husband was able to glean that the woman had recently been divorced and the jewelry was awarded to her in the proceedings with an assumption as to its value. Only now she was learning that part (or maybe even all) of what she thought she had to her name was worthless. And a lie.

Perhaps she was spoiled, and looking for more than her substantial settlement, but my husband read her as more panicky than pampered.

When Brock recounted this story to me, my first thought was to the duration of the deception. Did her ex husband gift her that jewelry twenty years ago with false stones in place from the beginning? Or, as I was afraid my ex may have done, were the real stones replaced at some point with lookalikes so that the husband could surreptitiously withdraw from the marital funds?

My heart ached for the woman. Not only does it hurt terribly to discover you’ve been living in a virtual reality, it is disorienting beyond belief once those goggles come off and you have to decide what is real. And what is illusion.

The mystery of the woman and the ring mirror the one question about my first marriage that still haunts me – did I marry a false man or did I marry a real man who was replaced at some point with a counterfeit? 

That’s one mystery that will never be solved. All I know is what he was at the end was certainly no diamond, despite how he acted.

And when I went to sell my ring at the conclusion of the divorce, my stone was still real. I guess he wasn’t clever enough to squeeze that stone for cash. Thank goodness for small blessings:)

What Happens To the Ones Who Leave?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
leave divorce

What happens to the ones who leave?

The ones who lie and deceive and then walk out the door into their next chapter without so much as a glance behind.

Do they feel pain? Guilt? Remorse?

Are they happy with their decisions and in their new lives?

Or do they regret the choices that ended their marriages?

For many of us, we will never know. Even if you still have contact with your ex (or keep tabs on his or her whereabouts), the life they put on display for the world may well be a front. And even if they do come back, crying about how upset they are, do you believe the tears? Or are they of the crocodile variety?

It’s common to wonder how your ex is doing. After all, they were once your partner in life, and how they felt directly impacted you. And now that they’re gone, your mind still seeks that information. Perhaps your mind even seeks retribution, wanting to see them face the consequences of their choices.

For a long time (longer than I like to admit), I needed my ex to be in pain. It was almost as though I saw it as some sort of tug-of-war with only a limited amount of happiness to share between us. And so I had to pull his away to ensure that there was enough for me.

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But that’s not really how it works, is it? It’s not as though his okay and my okay were mutually exclusive. I could be okay on my own regardless of how he was feeling.

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So why do we have such a strong drive to see those that hurt us be hurt in kind? Does it mean that we’re somehow malevolent if we harbor feelings of vengeance and pray for karma to hurry up and do her job?

I don’t believe so. In fact, I see these feelings of revenge as coming from a basic human need.

The need to be understood.

Intimate betrayal and deception is one of the most acute pains that one can be subjected to. It’s a deliberate act, carried out by the one you trust the most, that leaves residual tenderness for a lifetime.

And we desperately want someone, anyone, but especially the one responsible, to understand the depths and quality of that pain. We want them to feel it so that we can be understood and, in turn that they can know what devastation their actions have caused.

In even the most mundane of circumstances, it is beyond frustrating and isolating to not be understood. In fact, I’m feeling this way now after a day of attempting to teach math and interact with my colleagues with absolutely no voice. All day, I wrote commands on the board and tried to pantomime how to find the slope of a line only to be greeted with puzzled expressions. I would spot behavior across the room and be unable to do anything about it until I finished with the current student and navigated through the maze of desks. All I wanted was to be able to get my points across.

To be understood.

But not being able to talk for a day or two in a middle school is nothing compared to not being understood by the spouse that caused those feelings in the first place.

That goes way beyond frustrating and isolating.

In fact, for me it went into rage.

I was angry for a long time. And that anger feeds upon itself. I not only felt an immense need to be understood, I also wanted him to face punishment for his actions (it seemed only fair) and I wanted find some pleasure in knowing that I was doing better than him. Petty? Yeah. None of this was pretty.

I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. I just wanted him to hurt. To feel guilty. Maybe even a little remorseful.

And it was my now-husband who made it clear to me that I had to learn to let the anger go. That it wasn’t hurting my ex, it was hurting me and, in turn, my new relationship. Releasing that anger was a process. I had to enlist some mental choreography to shape conclusions that let me find peace. It was a process. A slow process.

I have an advantage in this over many of you; I don’t have children. And I can’t even imagine what it feels like to see your ex hurting your child. It’s one thing to let go when you were the one who was hurt. It’s quite another when it’s your child. In fact, I see this with my mother, who can still be brought to tears when talking about my past even when I’m smiling because of my present. For you parents, all I can say is do everything you can to teach your kids to be resilient while taking care of yourself. Practice modeling for them what you want for them. And be willing to learn from them; kids often have wisdom that we overlook.

For the most part, I’m past the anger now. In fact, at this point, I want him to be okay. Partly for him, because regardless of everything else, this was a man I loved deeply for many years. Partly for me, because I feel better knowing that I’m not putting any more bad energy out into the world. But mainly for the others that will cross his path. I want him to be okay so that others will be okay. When I saw him and (I think) the other wife hand-in-hand at a festival a couple years ago, I really did hope they were happy. Goodness knows, I was happy I wasn’t the one holding his hand.

But want I want has nothing to do with reality. If he is a narcissist or sociopath, he is incapable of feeling guilt or remorse and most likely will never change. If he has compartmentalized his actions and his past to the point where he no longer remembers the truth, he will not feel pain but may continue to inflict it upon others. If he has spent so long living in a house of lies that he can no longer find the door, he will remain forever trapped.

Even though I no longer harbor a secret desire to fill his car with fire ants, I don’t really worry about how he’s doing. Because I trust that if he has been able to feel the pain from his choices, he will change how he responds in the world. And if he has not felt the anguish, then the negativity he spreads will come right back to him.

And as for me? I no longer have a need to feel understood by him. I think if he was able to understand how it felt, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place. I no longer care to see him punished; I put my faith in karma. And I no longer need to feel superior that I’m doing better than him because my okay is now completely and totally independent of him.

Besides, I’m just happy to be happy.

And I’ll be even happier when I have my voice back:)

A Facebook Marriage (Keep the Smile On Or Else)

Posted on by stilllearning2b
facebook marriage

I didn’t join Facebook until after my divorce.

But if I did have a Facebook page during my first marriage, it would have revealed nothing of the upcoming marital tsunami. You would have seen pictures of us playing with the dogs and working on the house. You would be jealous of our new (and huge) deck with requisite hot tub overlooking a large wooded backyard. You would be subjected to pictures of public affection and cheery smiles. In other words, we would have looked happy and normal.

And that’s so often the case, isn’t it?

No matter what is occurring behind closed doors, the marriage we reveal to the world is Pinterest-perfect. We see endless streams of seemingly flawless families and we want to blend in. We feel awkward and vulnerable showing any cracks in the marital shell, so we hide them behind carefully selected and cropped photos. Maybe we want to pretend that our marriages are solid and intact and we play out that fantasy on our social threads.

We probably all play that game to some extent, methodically choosing to put our best faces forward while hiding our flaws in the shadows. Airing our successes and anniversaries while shielding our squabbles and struggles. And in most cases, it’s pretty harmless.

But what about when things behind closed doors really aren’t okay? What about when you’re at your breaking point and you need a lifeline?

What about when you just can’t maintain the facade any longer?

There’s a loneliness and an isolation that comes from having to pretend that things are always okay, especially when it seems that everyone else is living a Photoshopped dream.

While Facebook has increased our connections, it can also increase our feelings of shame and distress when our lives fail to meet the “should I post this” test. It’s as though we’re in some sort of marital dissolution quarantine where we have to say something nice or not say anything at all.

It makes me sad when people message me and tell me they would love to follow my Facebook page but they’re embarrassed that someone might see the name, “Lessons From the End of a Marriage” on their feed sandwiched between the silly cat picture and the smiling kids posing in their first-day-of-school-clothes shot.

Because the truth is that divorce is just as much a part of life as silly cats and the first day of school.

And it’s not something that we can edit out as though it doesn’t exist.

Because sometimes pain is hidden behind those Facebook smiles.

And maybe sometimes it’s okay to show it.

I’m not advocating badmouthing your ex in a public platform (especially if you have kids or if the legal process is still ongoing). I’m not promoting a blow-by-blow appropriate for the tabloids. And I’m not suggesting that you divulge thoughts better suited to the therapist’s couch.

But it is okay to show you’re hurting. It’s okay to reach out and ask for help. It’s okay to drop the facade and show some of your cracks.

And yes, some people will question you.

But others will support you.

And others will admire your courage and maybe that will encourage them to show their truth.

Connection is not found through the illusion of perfection.

It’s created when we take down our walls and discover that we have more in common than a fondness for silly cat pictures.

Don’t be afraid to be real.

After all, it’s what makes you awesome.

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Hope is a Passive Verb

Posted on by stilllearning2b
hope

I experienced a moment of synchronicity this past weekend – just as I was typing, “I hope the Ravens win,” a Tweet showed up on my feed about the limitations of the word “hope.” Patrick Brady (@MrMindMiracle) compares “hope” to the word “try,” pointing out the inherent weakness implied by both.

The thought made me pause. I rolled the idea around in my mind for the next few plays (where, I might add, my hope of the Ravens doing well was coming to fruition). “Hope” is a word I frequently use, both in my words and my writing. There are times when hope can be dangerous (as in holding onto the idea that an expired relationship may yet again find footing) and there are times when hope is essential (such as when it keeps us from drowning in despair).

And it’s true, that much like “try,” “hope” is passive. It paints a picture of wishing on a thing and then sitting back waiting for it to occur. And in both cases, action must be paired with intent for anything to happen. Well, other than the Ravens winning. Luckily, they don’t require anything from me to get into the playoffs:)

Hope is an important emotion. It gives us a whisper of possibility when everything feels impossible. It provides the inspiration to take the next breath when we feel as though our world is imploding. It gives permission to trust that despair isn’t permanent and that you can have a better tomorrow.

Hope gives the motivation to keep going even when you can’t yet see the light.

But hope is not enough.

You have to act.

I have hope and I’m not afraid to use it.

The discussion reminded me of a phrase I heard often during my divorce:

Everything happens for a reason.

Whenever that phrase was delivered by some well-meaning person, I would nod and mutter, “yes,” while silently screaming inside. You see, that phrase to me seemed passive. It implied that I should sit back and wait and let the reason for the hell I was enduring be revealed.

And passively waiting was the last thing I wanted to do. My life was actively stolen from me. And I was actively going to make it better.

And I didn’t just hope I could laugh, trust and love again.

I didn’t just hope that one day I could be grateful for my divorce and even for my ex.

I didn’t just hope I could bring purpose to the pain and create good from so much bad.

I knew I could.

And then I made it happen.

Baby step by baby step.

Replace “hope” and “try” with “believe” and “will.”

Don’t just chase your dreams,

Create your dreams.

Make your hope an active verb.

A Divorce Proposal

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I think we can all agree that ending a marriage should require at least a conversation.

But that doesn’t always happen. All too often, because of cowardice, denial or just plain dirtbaggery, one partner makes the decision unilaterally and simply walks out the door with hardly a “good bye.”

And for the one left behind, the abruptness is devastating. Confusing. Even dehumanizing as such an important conclusion was reached without any input or consideration.

Of course the, “I want out” conversation is one that nobody wants to have. And it’s not surprising that some people simply find a way to sidestep the discussion on their way to packing their bags. But maybe, just maybe, if we can reframe the end of a relationship in the same terms as we use for the beginning of a relationship, we can encourage people to have the talk.

Rebecca Wissink offers a new way to think about the conversation that proceeds the signing of separation papers – the divorce proposal. Read about her idea here and let her know what you think.