The Grass Isn’t Greener

Posted on by stilllearning2b
grass isn't greener

greener

For some reason I have been receiving quite a few messages lately from people who are looking for my validation of their decision to a) have an affair, b) continue an affair, c) abandon their unsuspecting spouse or d) all of the above.

Umm…do they realize who they’re messaging? Do they honestly expect that I’m going to give them a stamp of approval and send them on their merry, marriage-detroying ways? I mean, yes, I’m in a better place than I’ve ever been after facing my husband’s infidelity and abandonment, but that doesn’t mean I endorse that as a life-affirming event. Honestly, I would have preferred a cruise.

I usually take a little time to breathe before composing my responses. Ultimately, I want to ensure that I’m not coming from a place of my personal experience or reacting defensively. After all, even though these folks are looking for approval, they may also be asking for help. And there’s a chance that what I say may register.

There are some common themes in all of the messages I receive in this category. Many all tell me that their spouse would be better off without them. They all speak of interest in another man or woman. And perhaps most telling, they all seem hesitant to speak to their spouse.

And most of all, the attention is focused outside of the marriage.

Well, then, it’s no wonder the marriage is floundering. How can you expect a marriage to flourish when your efforts are spent elsewhere? Before you diagnose your marriage with a fatal case of failure to thrive, feed it. Nurture it. Give your marriage the attention you’re giving your escape plans.

Your intentions drive your attentions. If you’re committed to leaving, your focus will be on your exit.

So, before you call it quits, make staying your intention. At least for a while.

Now, attention is no Miracle Grow. Your marriage may have fatal defects or may have been starved for too long to ever thrive. But, at least give it a try before you leave it for dead.

One person asked me if he owed it to his wife to stay.

No. That’s just a breeding ground for resentment and contempt.

But he does owe it to his wife to at least try to nurture the marriage before making the decision. He does owe it to his wife to end things in a kind and mature manner, if it comes to that. And, he does owe it to his wife to not use her for excuse or blame.

The grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s greener where you water it.

So, stop blaming your spouse, stop pretending that you’re doing this to help him or her and pick up the damn watering can and water your marriage.

Okay, public service announcement over. Now back to our regularly scheduled program:)

Displacement

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was enjoying a bath the other day. The hot water filling the tub to the brim, my body submerged except for my hands holding a book and my face peeking out from the suds. I was relaxed. Content.

I heard Tiger begin to dance on the wood floors below as the garage door rumbled open.

That was soon followed by Brock’s voice, “Where’s mama?” he asked Tiger as both man and dog bounded up the steps.

“That looks good,” he said, slipping off his clothes and sliding behind me in the tub. For the next few minutes, we talked about our days  with the sound of the water draining through the overflow in the background. Eventually, the sound of the escaping water stopped as equilibrium was reached once again. The volume of the water replaced with an equal volume of Brock.

We stayed that way for some time, enjoying the company and the warm water.

He exited the tub before me, stepping out while simultaneously grabbing a towel.

The change in the bath was shocking. The water that had once covered my entire body now didn’t even make it around my hips. The once-full bath had been reduced to a few inches of tepid water. Unwilling to end my soak on that note, I turned the faucet on once again, allowing the hot water to fill the void left by Brock’s absence.

We are all aware of the effects of physical displacement in our lives. We are careful not to fill a pot to the brim before adding the potatoes. We know that a full tub will overflow when splashing kids are added. We ask for room in our coffee so that the cream can added without creating a mess. We are not surprised when water levels appear to plummet when objects are removed.

Yet we are often not as aware of the effects of emotional displacement. Of what happens when people are added to or subtracted from our lives.

In the beginning of a relationship, it is like being joined in the tub by another. Other relationships and commitments shift out of the way to allow room for the new company. It can be an uncomfortable change, friendships and activities and habits all vying for attention. Trying to decide what stays and what goes. Figuring out just how much to let the new presence in and how much will have to go to allow it to settle in.

And then, you get comfortable. Your life is full and has reached equilibrium. There may be less of the metaphorical water, but the volume of the relationship makes up the difference.

As long as your partner is there with you, the water level is fine. But as soon as he or she stands up to leave, the loss is shocking. Your body, once buoyant in the support of the water, feels heavy and collapsed on the cold surface beneath. You can stay there, cold and heavy, nerves raw to the whispers of the incoming air.

Or you can turn on the tap, filling your life again with warmth and support. Finding ways to replace the removed volume with new friends and old. Revisiting former passions and finding new ones. Enjoying the buoyancy that comes from a full life.

The tub may still feel empty, but at least you’re not needlessly suffering. Bonus points if you add a rubber ducky:)

The Mourning After

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I realized something the other day.

I no longer remember my ex husband.

Not in any real way.

For a long time, when people asked me what I had loved about him, I could tap into the old feelings and describe the relationship we had (at least from my perspective). With the retelling came the feelings. I felt the love again, not towards him now, but towards who he used to be to me.

Now?

I could recite a list of what I had loved, sure.

But it would really be a list. Memorized lines, any emotion borrowed or manufactured.

When I try to remember loving him,  I draw a blank. I can recall moments together, picture the scene, even tell you what was said,  but I can’t occupy myself in those playbacks. I am always an objective observer. A omniscient narrator with the knowledge of what was happening in the bigger picture.

I see us in the last embrace, standing before the prohibited items sign at the security line at Hartsfield Jackson airport. I can feel his breath on my ear as he whispered, “You’ll be back before you know it.” I can still remember the kiss, no  kisses, that morning that ranged from sweet to passionate. I remember that I used to feel secure in his arms and that my respiration would immediately slow.

I can picture that scene perfectly. Yet now when I try to slide into the me of then, feel what she was feeling – anxiety and excitement about seeing my dad again, an ache about leaving my husband, all while trying to mentally rehearse the security procedures, I get stuck. My brain, or maybe it’s my heart, stutters.

Because when he held me that day, he must have been performing some mental rehearsal of his own. He had only a few short days to pack up his life and slip out through the back door. When he held me that day, reassuring me that we would be reunited soon, he knew that he would never see me again. When he held me that day, he really was saying goodbye.

And that damned narrator tags along with any recollection of the past, always reinterpreting and explaining the action occurring off screen, not allowing me to simply feel the moment.

My memory files are corrupt, damaged by the way the marriage ended and the time spent processing its end.

Some may say that’s a good thing, a sign of moving on.

Maybe it is.

But I don’t like it.

I want those sixteen years of life to be able to exist for me. Not in some sterile slideshow way, as they do now, but in a way where I can remember, really remember the times I felt love and loved. I want to remember that woman I used to be, not only the one who was blindly trusting. I used to love him so acutely and now I don’t even know what that felt like. I can remember the pain, but not the pleasure.

It’s like a second loss.

The mourning after.

I mourned the loss of the marriage long ago.

And now I mourn the loss of the memory of the marriage.

Those years truly buried.

And left for dead.

 

And now I’m enjoying my afterlife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do As I Say

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do as I say.

Not as I do.

I talk about how whatever we nurture, grows. I discuss starting with the end in mind yet still starting at the beginning. I believe in the power of intention to drive our attention and, ultimately, our outcomes.

I say these things.

But in one area of my life, I haven’t been doing them.

One of the more difficult aspects of the divorce was the loss of the financial security I thought I had. Not only did I experience a dramatic drop in income between changes in teaching and tutoring, I also had to foot the bill for many of his actions.

In the beginning, my main attitude towards money was anger, as I paid and paid and paid for his transgressions. My pound of flesh had already been taken and now I was just scraping bone. So I found ways to address the anger. I wrapped the debt in gratitude, initiating a habit of writing something I’m thankful for every time I make a payment. When my mind wanders back to the hemorrhage of funds during the divorce that the courts were never able to recover, I turn my thoughts 180 degrees and focus on what I love in my life now. Things that money can’t buy.

The anger was eventually replaced with fear. That may have been good for the blood pressure, but it still didn’t help me sleep at night. I was scared of not having the needed funds to live. I was afraid of further nefarious action, bleeding the money even as it trickled in. The fear is still there, yet I have tempered it with reminders of the people that have my back in an emergency or with a brainstorming session of ways that I could earn money, if needed. It helps. But it hasn’t completely silenced the fear.

But that’s not really what I talking about. It’s a part, sure, but it’s a part I’ve been aware of and intentionally corralling.

This other thing?

I’ve been feeding.

For the last five years, a common utterance from me, both to myself and others, has been, “I don’t have money.”

It has become my unintentional mantra.

A guiding intention.

Whatever we nurture, grows.

Damn.

My all-too-easily rational brain has been excusing this habit as merely a statement of fact. After all, this is an area where some realism is called for. If I walked out of the mall laden with designer-heavy shopping bags, well…let’s just say there would be consequences. Like no gas in the car.

I need to be realistic about what I have to work with.

But I don’t need to allow my current situation become my intention.

Because the truth is, I’ve been busting butt to pay down my hand-me-down debt and to generate new ways of earning income. Right now, I may not have money. But tomorrow? Maybe I will.

I need to get out of my own damned way.

And nurture what I want to grow.

I WILL have the financial freedom to live the life I want.

I WILL be debt free.

And, here’s what’s probably at the root of it all – I DO deserve to be paid. I’m worthy of it.

I’ve recorded the mantras above over the old one on my mental cassette tape. The old intention may bleed through at times, but I’m not allowing it to continue to play.

Hopefully soon, I can say,

Do as I do.

 

After Divorce: From Surviving to Thriving

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Days after my tsunami divorce, my mom turned to me and told me I would survive.

I actually got angry and responded rather strongly, “No, I will not survive. I will thrive. To do anything less is to remain his victim.”

I saw surviving as the bare minimum, the mere intake of breath and food in order to go through the motions of life. I refused to settle for that. I wanted more. It felt insurmountable, yet the vision and hope remained intact.

Inspired by Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, these goals can serve to help you navigate the challenging path after divorce and take you from merely surviving to thriving.

Survive

The first tier of goals are about your literal survival. In the beginning, it is enough to simply focus on your next breath. And then the one after that. The goal is to keep you alive and functioning. These physical needs must be addressed first before any further progress can be made. Read the rest here to learn how to go from merely surviving to beautifully thriving!