Leap of Faith

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I jumped out of a plane last Saturday.

Go back and look at those first two words again. They’re important.

Skydiving was added to my bucket list shortly after my divorce. And, thanks to a friend’s encouragement and leg-work, it was finally scheduled to happen last weekend. I spent the hours (almost a two-hour drive from my home) and minutes leading up to the actual jump thinking about one moment in particular – the one spent in the doorway when the decision is made to leave the relative safety of the plane’s bare metal floor for the unknown of the sky, with the nearest floor 14,000 feet below.

And I wasn’t sure I’d be up to making that decision.

My instructor, strapped to my back while we both straddled the narrow bench seat in an awkward parody of two high school students sneaking in some PDA, walked me through what to expect:

“We’ll slide up the bench together. Stand up when you reach the end and duck walk over to the door. Stand at the opening with your legs bent. You can either have your toes at the edge or you can hang them over the edge. I’ll say ‘ready’ and rock forward, ‘set’ and rock back and then when I say ‘go,’ jump.”

“Oh, my toes will definitely not be hanging over the edge,” I said laughing at myself.

“Oh come on,” one of the other instructors said, “What’s the worst that could happen? You might fall out of a plane?”

Wait. Yeah, I guess that is the worst that could happen.

His words had a way of putting it all in perspective.

Although I thought differently at the time, I am now so thankful that my first marriage ended the way it did. I never had to take that leap of faith, leaving the relative security of a known marriage for the unknown vastness beyond. I didn’t jump; I was shoved off the marriage. And by the time I realized what happened, there were no choices left to be made.

On Sunday, I took that leap of faith. When I heard the hard “g” of “go,” I made that jump. It’s funny. I had spent so much time thinking about leaving the plane, I never spent much energy thinking about what free fall would feel like. So it caught me by surprise.

There’s no feeling of falling. The main sensation comes from the wind, stealing away breath (and taking my screams away with it) and buffeting the ears. The closest experience I can compare it to is the wind when you’re on a motorcycle with an open helmet or the feeling of being at the bow of a speedboat (without the hard slaps of the nose of the boat on the water).

But the best part of free fall is that you have only one choice: acceptance.

After all, there’s only one way to go.

Once the chute opens, the wind’s assault is replaced with a calm sense of floating. Even though you’re still moving rapidly towards the earth (about 15ft/sec at that point), your brain doesn’t register it as falling. In fact, from the moment I stepped off the plane, my brain seemed to be screaming, “What the $@#%?” It took it most of the day to process what just happened.

Interestingly, when I stood up after the soft landing, my legs were not shaky as they usually are after a release of adrenaline. Instead, I felt peaceful. Calm. Happy.

And lazy. It’s funny, whenever I thought about being productive that afternoon, my brain kicked up the excuse, “What you just jumped out of a plane. And now you want to do laundry???”

I acquiesced and spent the remainder of the day at the pool.

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Before the jump.

I started my divorce in free fall. I had to accept the situation even as my brain was screaming that we were going to die. Although it was a solo jump that time, I was lucky to have others coaching me on how to orient myself again and how to activate my chute. That landing wasn’t as gentle as the one last Sunday, but it felt just as good to be back on the ground.

I often talk with people when they are contemplating leaving the known space of their marriage. A marriage that has become a malfunctioning plane. And they are trying to decide if they have the tools to repair the engine, if the plane is in less distress than it appears or if they will be more likely to survive by jumping off.

And it’s funny. Just like I was on Sunday, they’re so focused on that leap, the rest blurs into some vague prediction. But like my instructor last weekend, I’ve been there and I know they’ll be surprised by the experience and that they’ll land safely when it’s time.

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The jump is the hard part.

It’s a leap of faith.

It’s trusting that you have the ability to navigate.

It’s trusting that your team has the knowledge to coach you through the transition.

And it’s trusting that you’ll make it to solid ground again.

Peaceful. Calm. And happy.

I decided not to pay the $$ for the action photos, so here's the proof that I went through with it!
I decided not to pay the $$ for the action photos, so here’s the proof that I went through with it!

Stepping on Toes in the Pursuit of Happiness

Posted on by stilllearning2b
happiness

“But I just wanted to be happy,” my couldn’t-be-ex-quickly-enough whined to the police officer in the interview room where he was being questioned for bigamy.

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to commit a felony,” the officer responded. I could hear him shaking his head in disbelief as he related this encounter to me on the phone later that day.

It brings up an interesting question though – when is it okay to cause distress to others on your own path to self fulfillment?

Your first impulse may be, “never.” Yet, we are not responsible for another’s happiness and we are in charge of our own. And there are times when you may have to step on some toes in order to make the changes that you need to make for you.

And it’s actually more harmful to engage in the people-pleasing (or cowardly) dance around the toes than to be honest and upfront from the beginning. When we try to protect people from our truth, we are acting as gatekeepers, something no relationship on common footing should ever have. Additionally, in trying to avoid hurting anyone, you create an environment seeded for deception (if you do want you want and lie about it to protect the other or yourself) or contempt and resentment (if you don’t follow your dreams and you blame your partner for your circumstances).

There are times when you have to step on some toes. Bruise some egos. Utter words that you know will lead to tears. And maybe even make a decision that causes a heart to break.

It’s not your job to ensure that your partner never feels pain. It’s not your role to act as security guard for your partner’s ego. And it’s not your responsibility to protect your partner’s cheeks from tears.

There are times that you may have to step on some toes in order to find your happiness.

But you are responsible for ensuring that you step as gently as possible. (Unlike my ex, who pretty much tap danced in combat boots over everyone in his life.)

If you are feeling unfulfilled in your life and you suspect that the pursuit of your own happiness will end up hurting others, here is what you need to consider if you want to tread as lightly as possible:

Don’t Be Impulsive

We all get irritated at times. We all reach a breaking point where eruptions are inevitable. This is not the time to throw out some news that will hurt your partner. Wait until you are calm and deliberate. Words can never be erased.

Speak Your Truth Clearly

Say it as it is. Provide the basics and only elaborate if asked.

Do Not Spread Blame

Even if you see your partner as responsible, this is not the time to point fingers. Own your part. And make sure you’re not on a snipe hunt for happiness. Not only is that not fair to your partner, you will never find what you’re looking for.

Be Patient

This may be old news to you, but it’s a breaking headline to your partner. Give them the time and space needed to adjust.

Accept That Some Pain is Inevitable

You can’t keep your partner from hurting. Offer comfort if it is welcome and don’t censor or try to minimize the pain.

Strive to Not Respond to Anger

When we are surprised and in pain, we often lash out. Try to not respond to anger; it won’t lessen the impact of your announcement.

Enlist Professional Help If Needed

Whether the news is delivered in a counseling office or a therapist is secured after-the-fact, recognize that help may be needed.

Listen and Keep an Open Mind

You may have reached a conclusion on your own. Be willing to listen to your partner. First, so that they can feel understood and also because you may find an alternative you did not consider.

And I discourage bigamy; you’ll find the police aren’t very sympathetic:)

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:)

Waiting for the Other Shoe

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The hardest part about the way my marriage ended is trying to live without always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I mean, things are great now. Really great.

But things were great before.

Sometimes I wish that my ex had been a jerk to me. I hear about these spouses that put on a good show in public and then belittle and guilt-trip their partners behind closed doors. I read about growing tension in discussions and growing distance in the bedroom. I see couples at dinner barely containing their contempt for each other and eyeing the door for escape. Whenever I used to see or hear about those behaviors, I grew ever more grateful for my husband, who was always gentle, generous, patient and attentive towards me.

But now I feel otherwise.

Because while I was happily wrapped in his arms, he was sliding the blade of betrayal through my ribs. Between intimate conversations, he was spreading horrific tales about me to others. And apparently the attention turned towards me only lasted as long as I was in the room.

If he had been a jerk to me, it would be so much easier now. I would know what to avoid and what warned of a problem. But a covert jerk is difficult to spot.

And that’s what makes me wary about that other shoe.

My rational brain works to calm me. Brock is not my ex. He is direct and faces problems head-on instead of trying to tuck them away. He is naturally loyal and reviles deception. I grow closer to him every day and can now, with certainty, say that I trust him. Plus, he knows if he screwed me over, I’d have to write about it:)

Apart from him, I now trust myself to recognize similar patterns or behaviors that may hint at trouble brewing beneath the surface. I will never be so naive again.

But the rational brain isn’t always the one holding the reigns. And my emotional self keeps looking up, ready to dodge the flying boot.

 

 

 

Something I’ve Never Admitted (Even to Myself)

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Something I’ve never admitted (even to myself) –

 

When my ex left, I was relieved.

Not right away. At first, I felt like I was breaking apart. Each breath singed my open and bleeding heart. I felt like I was gasping for air and grasping for a hold on reality. I was fractured and frightened.

But later? Once the wounds scabbed over a bit and I began to feel confident that I would survive?

I was relieved.

It wasn’t an emotion I expected to feel. In fact, I didn’t even accept as an emotion I did feel. On every conscious level, I loved and trusted that man with every fiber of my being.

But maybe on some deeper level, I was aware I was on a sinking ship.

A craft that I trusted to be whole and intact but instead had developed some fatal breach in its hull, obscured beneath the waters of awareness.

 

I lost everything. Yet in some ways I was relieved to be free of the life I had worked so hard for.

I loved him. Yet in some ways I was relieved he was gone from my life for good.

I faced immense pain and suffering. Yet in some ways I was relieved of the anxiety that had been growing beneath.

 

Maybe the relief was just my brain’s way of trying to wrest some control over the tsunami barreling down at me. Maybe the relief came from facing my biggest fear and still standing after the confrontation. Maybe I was relieved that the worst I could imagine was over and it could only get better from there. Perhaps it was the relief felt upon waking from a nightmare, the sweaty sheets revealing the anguish released during the night. Maybe it was like the relief felt after a good cry, emotions spent and endorphins moving in. Maybe it was the release of tension that I didn’t realize was building. Perhaps the relief came in an acceptance. A letting go after working so long to hold to him. Or maybe it was my intuition, discounted for so long, finally breaking through.

Who knows why I felt a release? I do know that I felt ashamed for feeling relieved. Guilty, as though I was somehow feeling something wrong. 

The truth is that emotions are messy and complicated. What we dismiss as irrational is often anchored in some truth, even if we cannot tease out the connections.

Relief is more than something we feel upon release, it is also a special type of carving that removes the unwanted material to create a dimensional image upon a backdrop.

I think the relief I felt was the removal of the unwanted falsehoods, letting my life and my self stand out yet again.