PTSD After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
PTSD divorce

Can you develop PTSD after divorce?

When my husband left, I trembled for a year. That’s not just some figurative language used to convey emotion; I literally shook. For a year. My body quaked from the aftershocks of the sudden trauma, my legs constantly kicking and my hands quivering. Those weren’t my only symptoms, either. I had flashbacks and nightmares that took me back to the to the day where I received the text that ended my marriage. The 21-word incoming message read: “I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and leaving the state.” From then on, the sound of an incoming message would actually send me to the floor, where I braced myself for another digital attack. I felt numb and had trouble remembering aspects of my marriage or my husband. I avoided sights and sounds that were associated with my marriage, often driving well out of my way to steer clear of my old neighborhood. I couldn’t sleep; I was hyper alert, always scanning every room and ready to fight or flee at any moment. I could not eat and my weight fell to dangerous levels.

As far as I know, my life was never in actual danger. But apparently my mind and body never received that message. In an instant, the person I trusted the most became someone whom I feared. I felt threatened and unsafe.

I didn’t know what was real and who to trust.

My husband never forced himself upon me, but I felt as though I had been violated when I learned I had been sleeping with the enemy. He never physically hit me, but the psychological blows left scars just the same. I’ve never been to war, yet every interaction with his lawyer was a battle that left me paralyzed with fear for my ability to survive.

I by no means intend to trivialize the horrors endured by those who have been the victims of abuse or those have been through war. Those are traumas on a scale well above what I have endured. What I have come to realize, however, is that trauma can come in many forms and in many degrees. The psychiatrist I saw that first year after my divorce stopped short of diagnosing me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), but the term came up as I described my symptoms, and the medications she prescribed are frequently used in the treatment of PTSD. Another therapist I saw also mentioned the disorder and used complimentary strategies.

PTSD happens when your mind cannot process the extent of the trauma.

It’s like a short circuit in your nervous system, where you have trouble distinguishing between real and perceived threats. We tend to think of PTSD as occurring only in life-threatening situations, but it can occur anytime there is an acute or prolonged trauma. Not all divorces lead to PTSD, but if it is sudden or abusive, the trauma can be severe and sudden enough to lead to PTSD-like symptoms.

According to The National Institute of Mental Health, PTSD includes flashbacks, bad dreams, staying away from triggers, feeling emotionally numb, feeling guilty, having trouble with memory, being easily startled, feeling tense and angry. Additionally, the diagnosis of PTSD requires that the symptoms persist beyond 30 days and that they interfere with daily life. There is a difference between normal grief, shock and anxiety and the pathology of PTSD.

PTSD occurs when a perfect storm of conditions are met. First, prior traumas can “prime” someone for PTSD as the stress can actually cause epigenetic changes, rewiring the body to be extra sensitive to further trauma. Women are also more likely to experience PTSD, possibly due to heightened fear conditioning. PTSD is also more likely to occur when traumas accumulate. When someone who has some of these risk factors undergoes a divorce, particularly one that is sudden or especially toxic, PTSD-like symptoms can occur. Sudden abandonment or attack by a loved one can trigger panic and disorientation as real as any physical threat.

The trauma is stored in the body as well as the mind.

During my divorce, I learned that most people assumed that depression would be the disorder de jour after a break up. They expected me to be sad and withdrawn, curled up on my bed with a box of tissues and endless pints of ice cream. Instead, I was hyper vigilant and always on the lookout for the next blow. It’s important to realize that all divorces are not the same and we all respond differently. There is no “right” way to be after a divorce. I was embarrassed for a time to reveal the true nature of my symptoms. I felt like I wasn’t permitted to feel that way since I didn’t have a knife to my throat. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t cope with the basics of eating and sleeping. I felt weak every time I over-reacted to a stimulus. Once I admitted my struggles, I was able to actively seek help to overcome them. I also learned that I was not alone in my reaction to the divorce.

There is help for those who are experiencing PTSD-like symptoms after a divorce. First, communicate your symptoms to your doctor or therapist. A checklist can be a useful tool, especially if you are having trouble putting words to your feelings. Be firm. I found that some therapists and doctors didn’t really listen to me, rather they projected how they thought I should be feeling. Different therapies, including EMDR, have been shown to be effective against PTSD. There are medications that can be useful to limit the anxiety and to calm the mind and body. Additionally, mindfulness practices, including yoga and meditation, can also help to reset the sympathetic nervous system and regulate the release of stress hormones.

Allow the body to teach the mind how to relax.

In my case, medication helped me survive the first year while a combination of mindfulness training, yoga and exercise has alleviated most of the symptoms permanently. I still have moments of unexplained panic where a slight trigger causes an extreme reaction, but those moments are thankfully few and far between. I no longer feel like I’m a prisoner to my anxieties, trapped in a purgatory where I’m forced to relive those awful moments time and time again. I am now able to visit those memories without panic and live my life without waiting for the next blow.

I never formally acquired the label of PTSD, but it served to be a valuable framework for me to understand and communicate my symptoms and to eventually overcome them. Labels, such as PTSD, can be helpful as we try to understand a complex situation, but even they only tell part of the story. Be gentle and understanding with yourself and others. Don’t be quick to judge or make assumptions. Don’t be ashamed to ask for assistance and admit when you cannot do it alone. Seek the help you need and know that it does get better.

 

A review of Lessons From the End of a Marriage, the book that details my experience:

Lisa Arends does an effective job in writing about the aftermath, the fallout, of a life-changing shock, on the abrupt desolation of her marriage. The read is a well done walk through all the PTSD and repeating changes that occur, which is depicted in a letter written to her by her exited husband, the commentary on the letter under the umbrella of the devastating changes she experienced, emotionally, physically and logistically are a walk through the fact that PTSD is not just relegated to victims of war, but to any life encounter that uproots your very existence in a shocking manner. She’s a likeable author, an engaging woman, that you take to and feel for, because she portrays the story, the horror she lived, with veracity and integrity, to allow the facts to unfold on the page even if they point a finger back to her (ie: a text from her spouse to his mother-in-law, Lisa’s mother). Devastation upon devastation unravels and what we hold onto dearly is lost, not just in the relationship but also in the family built around it, fury and otherwise. Arends navigates through this debacle with grace and humility, filled with emotions that are painted with strokes that are sure to offer others in similar situations some reflections and ground; she labels as “Lessons” chapter after chapter, ultimately culminating in what she has learned, valuable life lessons, applicable to anyone. But, this is not just a self-help work, or a read for someone in a similar situation, it’s a compelling story of the frailty and misconceptions we all live with, the thin line of trust & betrayal, confidence and fright, love and rejection, all the things that make the paradoxes of life and keep a balance, hopefully the balance stays in some semblance of equilibrium. In Arends case she tilts off the scale and by the Grace of her very nature, the love of her family, and whatever else strength she draws from she journeys through to meet what is most precious to all of us, connecting and opening to trust (applause to Tiger, no spoilers) despite all temptations not to, and in doing so, learning the ultimate, that love does conquer and cannot be soiled by another’s shadow cast upon our soul.

In the book, I never name PTSD. I only describe the events and my reactions. Yet, here was a third party who deemed that to be an accurate label.

 

According to the Mayo Clinic, the following are the symptoms of PTSD:

Symptoms of intrusive memories may include:

  • Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
  • Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event

Symptoms of avoidance and emotional numbing may include:

  • Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
  • Feeling emotionally numb
  • Avoiding activities you once enjoyed
  • Hopelessness about the future
  • Memory problems
  • Trouble concentrating
  • Difficulty maintaining close relationships

Symptoms of anxiety and increased emotional arousal may include:

  • Irritability or anger
  • Overwhelming guilt or shame
  • Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
  • Trouble sleeping
  • Being easily startled or frightened
  • Hearing or seeing things that aren’t there

From Mayoclinic.com.

After I received the text that ended my marriage, I experienced many of these symptoms. I had the flashbacks and the dreams. I had trouble thinking and remembering. I couldn’t sleep and I frightened easily. But, most of all I trembled constantly, my autonomic nervous system was on high alert, waiting for the next assault.

At first, the triggers were everywhere. Driving along the road that passed by my old house felt like traversing a field with buried landmines. I fully expected an explosion at any moment. I responded as though every mention of his name was literally a threat to my life. At any moment, I could be catapulted back to instant where I received the text. It was as though the phone was always in my hand.

My psychiatrist that I saw that first year stopped short of a full PTSD diagnosis, but she mentioned the disorder and selected medications that are used to treat it. I honestly don’t think I would have made it through without the medications. They allowed me to sleep and eat – two things I could not yet accomplish on my own.

Over time, the triggers decreased. I learned how to sleep and eat without assistance. I stopped the medications and was able to use meditation and exercise to reduce any symptoms. I can still feel the shadows of the trauma when I feel like I’m being abandoned again but, for the most part, my mind and body no longer confuse real and perceived threats.

Understanding Projection

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My ex husband accused me of cheating.

Never to my face, maybe because he feared my response or because on some level he knew the claim was baseless, but to his friends and coworkers. After he left, I learned that others had been hearing graphic and disturbing stories of my supposed infidelity for years.

He then went on to detail my irresponsible spending in his “suicide” letter to his other wife and to my mom (he made a suicide attempt when he was released from jail). He described how I wouldn’t take “no” for an answer and I always needed the latest and greatest things.

My initial reaction to my discovery of these accusations was one of unmitigated horror. You see, I trusted him so much and had slowly been groomed to accept his description of reality, that I initially believed that his claims must be true.

And then I grew confused. Because none of the facts, which I obsessively detailed to those who surrounded me in the aftermath of the tsunami, matched his claims. I struggled to understand what was real as the oil of his accusations failed to blend with the water of my recollection.

Finally, it became clear. He was charging me with the exact misconduct that he was guilty of. He was projecting and I was the screen.

 

 

What is Projection?

 

Projection is a common cognitive dance where self attributes or actions are shifted to another person. Much of the time, it is relatively harmless. Yet in the hands of an addict or abuser, projection can be used in a more detrimental way to distract or to transfer blame.

We all engage in some amount of projection. In some cases, projection allows us to empathize with others when we superimpose how we believe we would feel in a given situation over their stated experience. Other times, we may assume that someone feels the way we do or that they have the same aptitudes or perspectives. You see this when people caught behaving badly offer up the excuse that “everybody does it.”

Projection is also used as a defense mechanism. When there is some aspect of your beliefs or behavior that does not align with your view of yourself, you experience something called cognitive dissonance, where you either have to alter your view or amend your behaviors. One “solution” to the discomfort caused by this misalignment is to assign the disallowed characteristics to somebody else in the classic, “It’s not me, it’s you” move.

Often times, projection occurs when we are aware of something, yet we’re not yet ready to see it in ourselves (an example of this would be the claim that, “You don’t love me” when the reality is that we’re starting to doubt our own love). After all, it takes quite a bit of courage to look within.

 

Projection As a Weapon

 

I’ll never know to what extent my ex husband was aware of his projections. It’s possible that he was so deluded that he accepted his lies as truth (in fact, he actually told my mom after the suicide attempt that he had started to believe his own bullshit). But it’s also likely that his projection was largely conscious, distilled and aimed in order to cause the maximum damage.

By accusing me of horrific misdeeds, he excused his own undeniable choice of abandonment. When he projected his deceptions on me, he painted himself as the victim. His indictments acted as a slight of hand, keeping me distracted from looking too closely at what was happening on the other side of the stage. And finally, he used projection as a form of gaslighting, blurring and altering my view of reality.

If you’ve been in a situation where you have endured emotional abuse or faced the helplessness and frustration that comes from living with an addict, you’re vulnerable to believing the displaced accusations. Your self-image and confidence are likely low and you’re prone to assume responsibility for another’s well-being. When these accusations arise, refrain from blind acceptance. Ask yourself first if those claims are actually a better fit for your accuser.

As the divorce proceedings progressed, I found my new awareness of his tendency to project helpful. Whenever he accused me of something (withholding information, lying on a discovery document, etc.), I knew what to expect from him. Because even though his projections were aimed at me, they were simply a reflection of him.

I’ve Been There

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do You Suspect Your Partner is Cheating?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
cheating

Do you suspect your partner is cheating?

 

I laughed it off at the time.

My then-husband had recently become enamored with a particular style of Calvin Klein boxer briefs after years of mainly going commando. Since I was off school for spring break, I took on the task of tracking down several pairs for him so that he had enough to last a full week on the road.

I had read that a sudden change in preference of undergarments was a potential sign of an affair, but the thought that this man who was always so attentive and complimentary was seeing somebody else was laughable. I dismissed the idea as rapidly as it came to me.

And then, months later, the truth hit with a surprise uppercut.

The husband-of-the-year had disappeared into the arms of another. And he took his new boxer briefs with him.

Until I saw the evidence of the infidelity, his potential cheating was like Schrodinger’s Cat – until the box was opened, he was both faithful and unfaithful. I could both drive myself crazy by assuming that he was cheating or I could find false comfort in the conclusion that he was faithful.

And neither position of mine would have altered the facts surrounding his infidelity.

One of the most challenging truths about trust and fidelity in a relationship is that you have limited influence on the actions of your partner.

You can choose wisely, be a loving and present spouse and be alert to possible signs of cheating. And then you have to find acceptance in that in between space, where infidelity is simultaneously a possibility and out of the question.

After being cheated on in my first marriage, I was concerned about finding the balance between awareness of potential issues in my new relationship and also trust in my partner. My concern was that I would err too far on the side of suspicion, looking so hard for signs of cheating that, even if my partner was faithful, I would be living as though I was being betrayed.

I heard recently about a woman who knows her husband is cheating on her. Instead of making a decision about the future of the marriage, she is instead constantly monitoring his location. I can understand this reaction. By keeping tabs on his whereabouts, she is maintaining a sense of control in a situation where she is quite powerless. She can’t keep him from seeing his girlfriend, but at least she knows when he’s at the girlfriend’s house.

I understand this reaction, but the thought of living in that space makes me shudder. It must be horrible to know the details of the infidelity but be unable to alter its course. This false control becomes a distraction from the true source of power she does have – the decision if she is going to continue to tolerate this dynamic.

Other people are prone to snooping with the excuse that knowledge is power, assuming that if they just know enough about their partner’s life and interactions, they can stop potential infidelity before it starts.

It is a nice thought, that information is sufficient to shape the behavior of others. But, like with the illusion of control that comes from relationship insecurity, it’s a false comfort.

You will never know everything about your spouse’s life or history. You can spend all day together and they could be engaging in a secret online romance or you could have a long distance relationship where everything is aboveboard. Insisting on knowing everything is off-putting and creates an environment where your spouse is tempted to hide in order to avoid the constant questioning or to claim a reasonable amount of privacy. On the other hand, a total disinterest in information gives a sign of disinterest and even implied permission to act poorly.

There are times that I miss the sense of security I had in my first marriage, a certainty that he would be by my side no matter what.

And then I remember how that ended up.

I traded security born from willful ignorance for an acceptance about life’s impermanence and an appreciation for today.

An exchange I feel good about.

A few years ago, my now-husband found a type of underwear he loved. I looked from grading one evening to see him opening up a package from Amazon with multiple pairs. After admiring the view as he modeled a pair for me, I paused for a moment, remembering the similar scenario several years prior with my first husband.

Even though the immediate facts were homologous, the circumstances were completely different. Perhaps most importantly, I was no longer afraid to consider and confront the idea of infidelity in my husband (if I thought that it was a possibility). If I had been honest with myself ten years ago, I probably would have identified other facts that might have indicated that something was going on. When I considered this possibility with my second husband, I landed on a complete lack of evidence of infidelity. Furthermore, I had become quite uneasy towards the end of my first marriage, a current of anxiety of unknown origin coursed through me constantly. Whereas in my second marriage, I have never had that same vague sense of dread.

If certain signs have made you suspicious about your partner’s behavior, you have some decisions to make.

First, what do you want to do with this information? You can pretend you didn’t see it (not advisable, see my story for reasons), you can gather more data or you can confront your partner with your concerns. Here’s the hard part – once your brain has considered this possibility, there is likely little that your partner can say to completely alleviate your fears. That doesn’t mean that they are cheating; it means that trust has to operate on both faith and facts.

If you learn that your concerns are valid, are you prepared to set some boundaries? Maybe you are willing to try to work through this if your partner is on board or perhaps this is a deal-breaker for you. If they deny the affair (and you have proof) or they refuse to end the infidelity, what decision will you make?

I caution against remaining overly suspicious for the long term. It won’t lessen the chances of an affair (in fact, if anything, it can encourage it, “If you’re going to accuse me of it, I might as well do it.”) and it will only serve to make you miserable. If your concerns appear to be unfounded, consider the possibility that they have more to do with your own insecurities than your partner’s actions.

Transfer your energy from your partner’s activities to your own thoughts.

If infidelity is Schrodinger’s Cat, I refused to open that box in my first marriage, stubbornly believing that as long as I didn’t look, my marriage was still alive. Now, I take the occasional peek in the box to ensure that all is well, but for the most part, I operate from a place of trust. Because living a life of suspicion means that I am allowing myself to be a perpetual victim of infidelity. And that’s not the life I want to live.

 

 

 

 

 

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.