Snipe Hunt

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It was a snipe hunt.

I didn’t realize it at the time.

In fact, I didn’t even realize he was searching for something.

I just saw them as simple transactions.

$40 for a shirt here.

$200 for a new phone there.

But he wasn’t looking for a new wardrobe or a new phone.

Not really.

What he was looking for didn’t exist, at least not in material form.

But he didn’t realize that either.

He was on a snipe hunt for happiness.

 

I’m often questioned about my assertion that they were not obvious signs of my ex husband’s deceptions. There weren’t in the moment. But time has a way of revealing connections and indications, of washing away the clutter and revealing the patterns beneath.

And this is one of those cases.

My ex never expressed discontentment. He never claimed unhappiness or a lack of self-worth. Yet, when I look back, I can see that his patterns slowly changed over time. There was an insatiability that developed, an ever-growing need to fill a void. An endless search, each purchase seeming to send a message of position and power. It was subtle, at least until the end, but there was an energy to it. A drive. A need to be filled.

It was a snipe hunt for happiness. He was looking outside for something that can only come from within. He was distracted by the mythical beast he sought, ignoring the calls for help from within.  He gathered possessions like a magpie enamoured of shiny objects, as though the gilded gadgets would reflect light back into his soul.

And that was a sign. Not only of his unhappiness, but also of his approach. He was a man who looked for the easy road. He would rather move houses to gain a greener pasture than water the one where he stood. He would rather discard a wife and a life where he made mistakes than to work to correct his errors and omissions. He was a man afraid of looking inward, preferring instead to focus on an imaginary hunt. He believed that solutions could be found if he only searched hard enough.

 

It was a sign. His snipe hunt for happiness.

And, like all snipe hunts, it was all pretend.

In this case, an act of a man desperate to find peace.

And he looked everywhere but where it could actually be found.

Within.

 

We can learn from him.

We all have a tendency to engage in snipe hunts for happiness – material goods, dating to distraction, food and alcohol. Learn your patterns. What are the early signs of your own snipe hunt for contentment? For peace? Recognize that you are searching for something that cannot be found in the outside world.

And look within.

Memory Slammed

Posted on by stilllearning2b

This morning, I traveled across town to meet a friend. I ended up with a few minutes to spare, so I stopped in to a Home Depot near her house to peek at the stock in the nursery (starting to get excited about planting again!).

I was over in the area where I used to live and now only visit infrequently. For years, I dreaded traveling back there as every landmark was full of memories like an overripe fruit, sweet bordering on putrid.

But the last couple years, it’s been okay. I can drive the road by my old house and not tense up. I can enter stores and restaurants and not be pulled back to the past.

So today, I walked into Home Depot with no thoughts of the past and no fear or anticipation of memories.

Which perhaps is why it hit me so hard.

I was memory slammed when my back was turned.

I entered in through the nursery, greeted the few shrubs on display, and then crossed the store to visit the restroom. It was as though the bathroom stall was a time machine. As I exited the room and rounded the corner of the hall, I was immediately pulled back to a time about 6 years ago when I left that same bathroom to join my then-husband in line at the register. For a few dozen steps, I was in the past. I was fully expecting to walk up on my then-husband, perhaps slip an arm around his hips, and talk through our plans for the afternoon. It was only when an employee asked if I needed assistance, that I snapped back into the present moment.

It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t like a trigger, initiating an avalanche of memories. It was just odd, jarring, like that transition from one temperature extreme to another that takes your breath away as you adjust.  The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving me more bemused than upset. After all, it’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a memory.

And now I’m off to a different Home Depot with my now-husband to pick up supplies to put the finishing touches on the theater. And I’ll be happy to slip my arm around him while we wait in line. No time machine needed.

 

Chutes and Ladders

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you remember the game Chutes and Ladders?

The slow, steady climb to the top of the board?

The delighted squeal that would escape your lips when luck granted you a ladder, bypassing multiple rows in a single move?

The utter helplessness and defeat when that same luck turned and landed you on a chute, plummeting you back to the beginning?

After the divorce, I felt like I was trapped in some twisted version of the game, the final square holding the peace and healing I so desperately desired. For long periods of time, I would trudge slowly through the levels. Not making great progress, but progress nonetheless. Sometimes, I would be blessed with a ladder, a sudden jolt of insight or a pleasing outcome that would elevate my healing to new levels.

And then there were the chutes. The triggers. The memories.

Inevitably, they seemed to appear just when I was feeling confident. Comfortable. As though they fed on optimism.

I would find myself disoriented within their slippery embraces. Only to realize that I was back to the beginning once I regained my senses. Peace once again a far off dream.

 

Chutes and Ladders is based on an ancient Indian game that was designed to teach Hindu children about karma. The final square symbolized nirvana, the ladders represented virtues and the snakes, the original version of the chutes, were vices. There were fewer ladders than snakes, showing that it is often more difficult to climb than it is to fall. At the end of the game, salvation was granted to the one who made it to the final square while the rest of the players faced rebirth at a lower rung.

 

Although intended to teach about choice and consequence, the game itself is based entirely upon chance. Fate.

Which makes it easy. But also frustrating.

Because in life, we always have choice.

In life, we can learn from our mistakes.

In life, we can accept where we are in the moment yet always strive to do better.

In life, we can slow the slide and even climb out of the chute.

In life, we can roll the dice but we can also build the ladder.

In life, we become better at climbing the more we do it.

In life, success comes not from watching others fall, but in helping to lift them up.

In life, nirvana is not only the end goal, but is a presence to be found along the journey.

In life, we cannot control every play of the game but we can learn to steer its outcome.

 

It’s so easy to feel helpless and powerless after divorce, subject to the whims of the dice that may send us back to square one on any given day.

It’s so easy to feel defeated. Tired of the climb when every ladder towards healing seems to be paired with a chute greased with pain.

It’s so easy to fixate on your small patch of real estate on the game board, that you fail to see the bigger picture.

The fact that you are making progress. Maybe not steady. And certainly not linear. But progress.

Peace is possible.

Keep climbing.

A Cynic’s Guide to Valentine’s Day

Posted on by stilllearning2b

So you thought you were safe? You survived the holiday season and you were beginning to settle back into normalcy. And then… Wham! Back with the sappy commercials. Out come the gaudy decorations. The messages of material happiness are yet again bombarding our senses from every direction.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Read the rest here.  And then have a great day!

So the Wind Blows

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The storm pummeling Atlanta today has been described already as “historic.” I’m not sure if that will be the case but the howling wind and pelting ice outside my window certainly sound as though they are harbingers of the winter apocalypse.

I keep having flashbacks to the only other major ice storm I’ve been through. It was in 2000, 6 months after I’d moved to Atlanta and just over a month after I got married. My husband had just had a vasectomy the day before the storm hit. At least he was able to enjoy his Playstation and ice his wound for a day before we lost power! We ended up spending 3 days without power in an all-electric 3rd floor apartment without a working fireplace. We played board games in the living room during the day and slept (with the dog and cat) in the only interior room – the bathroom. I remember clearly the gunshot cracks of the 80 foot tall pine trees as they snapped one by one under the weight of the ice. Within two days, the surrounding woods looked as though a picky tornado had thinned them.

So here I am again, a newlywed awaiting the ice storm. I’m glad that this time I have lower floors to occupy, gas water heater and a working fireplace with plenty of wood ready to go. Oh, and a husband who didn’t just have surgery:) One way I’m less prepared? Books. I don’t have many really ones anymore and Kindle batteries don’t last forever. I may end up reading the backs of everything in the pantry:)

I couldn’t sleep last night. I do that when I’m concerned about something. I don’t know why. It’s not as if I can keep the trees standing simply by being awake. I gave up a little while ago and decided to enjoy coffee and a real breakfast, not knowing what the future may hold (have a feeling it may be a diet of protein bars and faked coffee – thank goodness for camping supplies).

Since I may be out of commission for a while, I pulled three pieces from the vault for you. See if any of them tickle your fancy.

While you’re reading, I’m going to enjoy a hot bath and a good (non-Kindle) book and pretend that the creaking trees are the masts of wooden boat sailing the Caribbean.

Pardon Me, Ego. I Need to Get Through

Ego:

the “I” or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought. (from dictionary.com)
Ever since we first begin to see ourselves as separate, sentient beings in childhood, our egos define how we interpret the world around us.  That sense of self may actually be holding you back from healing from your divorce.  Do you see yourself in any of the following patterns?
It’s All About Me
When I first realized the extent of my husband’s betrayals, I kept asking, “How could he do this to me? To the one he was supposed to love?”  I saw his actions directed towards me as an arrow towards a target.  I assumed he was thinking about me as he made these decisions.  He lied to me.  He cheated on me.  He stole from me. That pattern kept me fully anchored in a victim state, the recipient of all the pain and deceptions.
Slowly, I realized that it wasn’t all about me.  He lied and cheated and stole, yes.  But he did those things because of whatever demons had him in their grasp.  He didn’t do those things because of me.  He most likely wasn’t even thinking of me while they occurred.  He did them and I was in the way.
I shifted my thinking. When he hurt me, he was acting to protect his own sense of self rather than trying to wound mine.  I began to let the anger go.
It is not easy to remove the ego from interpreting the actions of one so intimate to you. Try looking at the situation with an open mind, letting go of your own ego, and see how your perspective shifts.

Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems

For most of my married life, I felt secure. I had a husband that I trusted. I owned a home and had been at the same job for many years. I felt comfortable in my life; I trusted that change, if desired, would come from intention. It was predictable and I liked that. If you had asked me where I would have been five years down the road, I would have answered without hesitation.

That feeling of security and blind trust is what allowed me to become complacent. Too comfortable. I was petrified of losing that feeling of security. I was very conservative in my decisions, choosing to avoid risk whenever possible.

I lost all semblance of security when he left. Everything was in question; nothing was sure. I didn’t have time to let it scare me. I simply had to survive. I was operating at the base level of Maslow’s hierarchy: eating, sleeping and breathing were my priorities.

I started tiptoeing back into life. I branched out but much was still unknown. I could not even imagine where I would be five years hence. And I was okay with that.

Read the rest of Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems.

 

Trigger Points

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Read the rest of Trigger Points.