The Pitch-Black Room

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Heartbreak is a pitch-black room.

At first, you’re disoriented. Confused. How did the familiar world become replaced by this sarcophagus of grief?

There are no windows. No doors. Only darkness.

And you’re all alone. You can hear life as usual just outside your walls, but you are separated from the activity.

The air feels funny. It’s too dense, making every breath a struggle. It presses down on you as you try to move. It feels as though it’s squeezing your very life away.

And yet somehow, your lungs keep following orders. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

In that pitch-black room, there is no day or night.

No hot or cold.

No anything, really.

You scream, both in an attempt to release your pain and in an attempt to feel it. The sound echoes off the walls, filling the void until the vibrations cease.

 

You find that you’re going through the motions. More an act of habit than an act of living.

You dutifully lay down in the bed only to realize later that you’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, sleep remaining elusive.

You prepare a meal only to sit down and realize that you’re not hungry.

You drink. Not because you’re thirsty, but because some primal part of brain tells you that you must.

 

You despise the room, with its absence of light and its reverberations of pain. But you also begin to grow comfortable with the room. You know its every corner. And you become accustomed to its confines. It’s life distilled into its most bitter essence. Terrible, but familiar. You begin to forget that there is anything other than this pitch-black room.

The first glimpse of light catches you off-guard. It feels good and wrong all at once. It’s welcome, yet it doesn’t belong. You even feel guilty for smiling at the glow. As though you’re somehow betraying the solemness that the room demands.

You decide to investigate further, drawn to the possibility that there is more than darkness. But as you approach, the light flickers out.

Over the next days…weeks…months… who knows? time has no meaning here…the light reappears of its own volition. Sometimes it fades as soon as it appears. And sometimes the light remains for some time.

You become hopeful. And then defeated, mad at yourself for letting optimism in. After all, this is now your room.

But still the light persists, growing just a little brighter every day.

Until one day, you are able to see the room more clearly. There’s a window after all. And you can see outside. You want to be outside. You desperately search for a way out. But find nothing.

 

Pacing in frustration, you begin to tell yourself that you’re stuck. That this darkness is all that you’ll know. You repeat it so much that it becomes gospel. So much so that you’re unable to accept the appearance of door in the once-smooth wall.

And then once you see it, you find that you’re both excited about a way out and frightened about the possibility of escape. Because what if you take that step out only to have your heart broken again?

You finally summon your courage, take that tentative step. Your first ventures out are short. You return to the room when you remember your sadness and often, you find your way back there through no reason at all.

The visits slowly become less frequent. Their duration shortens. You find yourself becoming more a part of the outside world and less a resident of the room.

The room is always there. Its walls are solid, bricks of heartache mortared with tears. You know that you can stop by and visit. And sometimes you seem to find yourself there when the calendar reaches certain days or a memory is triggered.

But you also know that you can step out of the room again. And you can close the door behind you.

The pitch-black room holds the memories, and it no longer holds you.

 

 

 

 

 

I Was Married to a Con Man

Posted on by stilllearning2b
con

I thought he loved me. It turned out that he was more con man than confidant. 

If my husband had been Pinocchio, his nose would have been a giant redwood. While we were married, I thought he was a real boy. Once he disappeared, I learned otherwise.

My husband and I used to watch “Lost” and shake our heads in disbelief at Sawyer’s deceptions. We laughed at “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” when the con artists were conned themselves. We were shocked at the audacity of Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in “Catch Me if You Can“, and we were disturbed when we discovered the movie was based on a true story. While I thought he shared my disdain for the trickery and fraud in these tales, it seems as though he had been taking notes. Overnight, I went from an ordinary life to one that felt more like a movie.

 

My husband was a brilliant and talented man whose skills included creating and maintaining a separate existence. He had two cameras. Two bicycles. Two wallets. Two wives. Two distinct lives. When the financial mess he created in his life with me became too great to keep hidden, he broke up with me via text and vanished. That was when I learned that my husband was anything but a real boy — he was a con man.

 

My life was a virtual reality — my home a movie set consisting of false fronts.

 

He was an expert lie crafter; he always knew the exact proportion of truth to weave into the falsehoods to make a story believable. He always had an answer; he never hesitated. His office must have been like a busy air traffic control tower as he directed emails, texts, and phone calls to support his various tales. The extent of his deceptions was made clear when I sat with an auto insurance card in my hand — my name had been digitally removed — while I pulled up the file from the insurance company and verified that both names were present on the actual document. He thought he could erase me as easily as he could my name using Photoshop.

 

While my husband was in jail after being arrested for felony bigamy, I talked with his other wife, who was as stunned by the situation as I was. No woman should ever have to have a conversation about “our husband,” even if it is a cordial and informative discussion. I learned that when he was pulled in for questioning, his lies became increasingly absurd as he struggled to maintain his façade. My favorite? He claimed that he and I had divorced years earlier and I had since married a chiropractor named Mark Mercer. Mark, if you’re out there, I’m sorry that I have no recollection of our marriage and that I have never recognized our fictitious anniversaries.

 

One of the saddest aspects of the situation is that he was conning himself just as much as he was fooling those around him.

 

In trying to pull the wool over others’ eyes, he inadvertently knitted himself a mask with no eyeholes. He told so many lies for so long, he began to believe his own fabrications (he even admitted as much in a text to my mother). It became impossible for him to tell where the lies ended and the authenticity began. In trying to keep everyone else in the dark, he lost himself. The real boy was replaced with a hollow man.

 

I came out of the marriage confused, unsure of what was real and what was fabrication. I was embarrassed. How could I have been such a fool? My anger was explosive as I came to the realization that I had been literally sleeping with the enemy. The crime was intensified by the fact that it was carried out by the man who had sworn to love and protect me. Yet, eventually, I began to feel compassion for him, as I saw through the lies to the pain that must have born them.

 

I have come to the realization that the life I knew was real to me, and that has to be enough. I will never know what prompted his moral malignancies nor will I ever find certainty in truth.

I was conned, but that is not the end of my story. I am now exploring the world un-shaded by his lies.

An Open Letter to Those Who Have Been Ghosted by a Partner

Posted on by stilllearning2b
ghosted

I see you.

I know that right now you’re feeling insignificant and discarded. I see you standing there in utter shock, struggling to process how everything changed in an instant. The “before” and “after” alternately body slamming you with the brutal reality. I see you because I was you.

I hear you.

I know that you’re frustrated that your voice, your very right to speak, has been taken from you. I hear your silent screams into the void, the endless question of “why” echoing through the fog. I hear your voice because it follows my own.

I understand you.

I know that you’re questioning everything, running every detail through your mind, worrying each strand of memory like a loose thread. I understand the doubts that are starting to creep in, that you’re wondering what clues you may have missed or even believing that you somehow deserved this on some level. I understand you because I was in that same place several years ago.

The pain and confusion you’re experiencing are totally normal reactions to such a complete and total blow and betrayal.

Being abruptly abandoned without explanation is one of the more painful experiences that life can deliver.

And the first thing you need to understand is that leaving in that manner is a reflection of your ex’s character. Not yours. Some may remind you that relationships take two. And this is true. Yet ending it on this jarring note was a decision made without your cooperation. You may experience judgement from others. Try to be patient with them as they truly don’t understand what it’s like. Even loved ones may seem to blame you. This is often because they cannot bear to imagine this happening to them and so they need to try to make some sense of why this happened to you.

Ghosting is cowardly. Instead of having the difficult conversations and potentially seeing you hurt, they chose to run and hide. That is not healthy adult behavior, especially with a relationship of significant depth and duration. It’s not fair to end a relationship this way. It robs you of any opportunity to ask questions, much less eliminates any chance you may have had to fight for the relationship.

After being ghosted, you are haunted by the unknowns. Those endless questions can drive you crazy. Again, I’ve been there and I took that ride for a time. You may get some answers. It could be that they were seeing someone on the side or that they had amassed secrets that they wanted to keep hidden. I know the temptation to hunt for information is strong; however, I encourage you to keep this urge on a leash. Too much obsession over the reasons for their actions will only serve to bring you more misery. They gave you important information about themselves by leaving this way. Ultimately, that matters more than any details.

Are you desperately looking for closure?

If you’re finding yourself stuck by not knowing what happened like an unfinished puzzle with a lost piece, use what you know to fill in the gaps. Craft a story from the facts you have and your knowledge of your ex. You may not get it right. But it doesn’t matter. Our minds fixate on what is missing. Once you fill in those holes, it gives the brain permission to rest. Here are some more ideas on how you can find closure without your ex’s cooperation.

Perhaps the most cruel part of being ghosted is that the residual doubt and uncertainty lingers and follows you into new relationships. You can easily become anxious, desperate not to be blindsided again. And this worry can easily poison your new relationship if you allow it to simmer. It’s important to learn to trust yourself again. It’s possible that you didn’t signs in your other relationship because you were afraid of what they would mean. Trust that you can not only recognize brewing problems but that you can also face whatever may come.

I’m probably getting a little ahead of myself. Right now, you just want to know how to make the pain end. I wish I could wave a magic wand for you and release the anguish you feel. But I can’t. No one can. Not even your ex.

They are gone.

The way they went about it is cowardly and shitty. Yet the end result is the same. They are gone.

They had all the power in how they chose to end things. You have all the power now in how you choose to move forward.

I’m going to interrupt to share with you a little story about ghosts –

When I was six years old, my parents took me to Disney World. I insisted on waiting in the two-hour line for the haunted mansion ride. They indulged me (yes, I am an only child.) As we approached the front of the line, the details of the house and the spooky sounds playing over the speakers began to frighten me. Panicked, I refused to step inside the attraction.

A short time later, I gathered up my courage and decided that I wanted to brave the ride again. My parents again indulged me, only with some well-deserved grumbles this time.

It turned out that I had built those ghosts up to be way bigger and way more powerful than they were. The fear was within me. The story that they would harm me was one that I was telling myself. And when I walked back out into that Florida sunshine, I felt proud of myself that I had faced those ghosts and made it out the other side.

I know this ghost is different. They have hurt you. Deeply. Yet now they are like a projection in that haunted house – the real danger is over. What’s left is the apparition in your mind. And even that will fade as you again walk back into the light.

You will never forget “the one who ran away.” But don’t waste your life chasing after them. They are not worth your time.

Your love and loyalty and energy are better spent on those that deserve it.

And that includes you.

I see you.

I hear you.

I understand you.

And I believe in you.

Lisa

 

Want to learn more about my story when I was abruptly abandoned by my husband after sixteen years?

 

Are you looking for help recovering from being ghosted? 

 

 

I’ve Been There

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Understanding Triggers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

 

Want more ideas and support on dealing with triggers?

 

Facing Avoidance

We avoid because we do not want to suffer. Yet suffering then becomes the background noise of our lives.

 

Learning to Trust Again: How to Deal With the Triggers

There are times when the triggers are activated because of a legitimate and present concern. At those times, it’s important to listen to your gut and pay attention to its warnings. And there are other times when the alarms were pulled too soon, acting more from perceived danger than from a true emergency.

 

Trigger Points

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.