I first learned this as a young child, exploring my grandmother’s basement, packed to the ceiling with carefully labeled and organized items as though she was preparing to seek refuge from the apocalypse.
Which, in many ways, she was.
She lived through starvation and disaster on the Dakota prairie that followed the first World War. Later, she experienced the Great Depression and the subsequent war that followed. She felt the burden of providing for three children while also caring for a sister and a husband that faced medical crises.
All of this occurred long before I was born. So I puzzled at the multiples of cans stacked on a windowsill that approximated a grocery shelf when a fully-stocked pantry and fridge occupied the kitchen above. From my perspective as a middle class American kid, the grocery store was a constant. I simply couldn’t understand the need to create an additional level of food security at home even as I could see how deeply the need went within her.
Then my parents divorced. And for the first time in my young life, I felt that overwhelming need to hold on to something – anything – in an attempt to create that sense of security and certainty that I needed to feel safe in the world. In fact, that need was part of what drove my attachment towards my first husband. Sometimes I wish that hindsight could be aimed forwards.
At some point, most of us experience that sense of life pulling the rug from beneath our feet. We reach out. And grab on.
Only to realize much later that we’re still holding on long after it’s time to let go.
The following are possible signs that you’re still holding on when perhaps it is time to let go:
The person, object or situation no longer brings you joy or fulfills a purpose.
The first hosta that I planted in my old front yard brought me endless pleasure. I admired its immense green span when I pulled into the driveway and marveled at the unfurling of its new leaves. As the sun intensified over the ensuing weeks, the once-pristine leaves began to brown, turning shriveled and deformed in the face of the sun’s relentless beating. The plant no longer brought me joy. Instead, the sight of the failing foliage brought me guilt and shame and frustration. Even as I refused to admit defeat and replace it with something more suitable.
We all have a tendency to that, to stubbornly hold on to our choices even when we no longer find joy or usefulness with our selection. Life’s too short for placeholders and clutter. If it doesn’t bring joy (to you or someone else) or fulfill a purpose, why continue to hold on?
You show signs of anxiety when you consider letting go that are out of proportion with the actual loss.
Have you ever removed a pacifier, favored toy or security blanket from the hands of young child? Did they act as though you were threatening their very existence? This just goes to show how easily we assign great meaning to things that can be relatively inconsequential.
We use these things – whether people or items – much like first responders use gauze to pack a wound. We stuff them in around the bleeding spaces in an attempt to halt the flow of emotion. Their presence means that we don’t have to examine the wound. And we fear that if we remove them, we will succumb to the underlying injury.
The opportunity cost is beginning to be a burden.
I was in contact with a person who was in an on-again, off-again relationship. They were torn. On the one hand, they were afraid of being alone and were appreciative of the positive aspects of this particular partner. On the other hand, there were significant communication struggles and work that both needed to do to past this. Ultimately, this person decided to move on – literally – because continuing to say “yes” to this relationship meant saying “no” to many exciting opportunities that were presenting themselves.
Whenever you are holding on to one thing, you are preventing yourself from holding on to something else. Are you finding that you have goals that you cannot seem to meet because your attention is still directed towards this other thing? Are your hands too full to pick up what you desire?
You find yourself making excuses and becoming defensive when questioned.
My need for my ex husband was extreme. So extreme that I was not able to face the thought of losing him, much less confront the reality of who he was. I made excuses for his excuses and defended him to myself and others. And the one time someone asked if I was afraid about infidelity while he travelled? Let’s just say that they never tried to bring it up again.
We often feed ourselves the narrative that we’ve made choices and now we have to live with them because it’s easier than facing the fact that maybe we made the wrong choice and we have the power to change it. Denial is powerful and it puts up quite the fight when it feels threatened. As such, when you feel yourself gearing up for a battle when there are no weapons drawn, it’s a sign that you may be grasping onto something that would be better off released.
The fear of the leap is the only thing in your way.
It’s scary to take a leap of faith.
The thought of letting go when you fear that you may plummet seems like a fool’s mission.
Yet if you’re always holding on, you’ll never know what you can reach.
Search for “divorce” on Twitter, and you find countless posts like the following:
I don’t believe in divorce….when me and my partner have problems we will sit down, talk and work it out! Commitment for life
As though one can make divorce not real simply by pretending it doesn’t exist. I hate to break it to them, but divorce is kinda like gravity’s impact on an aging body; it exists whether you want to admit it or not.
I didn’t believe in divorce either. I believed in commitment. In working things out. In staying together. However, my husband did not feel the same way.
The problem with the Twitter quote above is that it completely neglects to acknowledge your partner’s view and actions, neither of which are under your jurisdiction.
You may not believe in divorce but if your partner stops believing in the marriage, you’ll change your mind real fast.
I try to remember that these statements are coming from ignorance and a lack of exposure. These are people who have not been touched by divorce. These are people that believe that promises made can never be broken. These are people who think that their wishes are strong enough to ward off any unwanted situations.
I both envy and pity them.
I was them.
I had that certainty, that confidence in my marriage. I believed that divorce couldn’t happen to me because I didn’t want it to. I didn’t realize that my husband had developed a different view. My certainty that it couldn’t happen to me meant that I was blindsided. I was betrayed, not only by my husband, but also by my beliefs.
I worry about those who believe that it can never happen to them. I hope they are right and they never face the pain of lives torn apart. However, I worry that many of them will realize that belief is not enough to hold a marriage together.
The most difficult aspect of any relationship is the acceptance that your partner is an individual with his or her own thoughts and actions. You cannot control them. You cannot change them. All you can do is love them and embrace them while being the best you can be.
Maybe instead of saying, “I don’t believe in divorce,” it should be, “I believe in doing everything possible on my side to ensure that we do not divorce and I hope that you can do the same.”
For eight months, typing the names of my ex or his other wife into that tempting little search bar was my drug of choice.
I was Googling my ex, but what I really wanted to find was respite from the pain.
Of course, what I was hoping to find was a full-page ad taken out in the New York Times where he proclaimed that I was the best wife ever and that he made in the biggest mistake in the history of the world when he decided to cheat on and abandon me. I would have also been rewarded by the news that his new wife stole all of his money and abandoned him with a hastily-written sticky note.
Or, at the very least, the news that he had contracted rabies from the monkeys he was showering with in Uganda.
But none of that ever happened.
I mean, the showering with monkeys part happened. Thanks to my sleuthing, I was gifted with the pictures from his other wife’s blog. But as far as I know, there was no rabies, no sticky note and no full-page spread in the New York Times.
And from my perspective now, I realize that even if I had found evidence that he was miserable or regretful, it really wouldn’t have changed anything. Sure, I might have felt a little “zing” of pleasure at his misfortune (probably immediately followed by a jolt of guilt for feeling that way), but then I would have been set on a path of looking for more evidence of his struggle. Like a little breadcrumb trail feeding shots of dopamine to distract from my own pain. As you can imagine, that’s a path that is destined to lead to nowhere good.
Maybe you feel as though your ex took your happiness. So why are you gifting them your attention?
When you’re Googling your ex, you’re basically going to come across one of three things –
You discover that they’re doing great.
And, in turn, you feel like shit. Their endless pictures of smiling faces only serve to make you feel more alone. The upbeat nature of their posts makes it seem like they moved on from you without hesitation.
Yet you can’t stop watching. It’s like a train wreck of happiness. It is unbearable to look, but you can’t look away.
You learn that they’re miserable.
Which is what you secretly want, right? You want them to feel the pain you’re experiencing. You want validation that you were important to them and that your loss has impacted them negatively. Maybe this urge is coming from a need for things to feel “fair” or perhaps you’re desperate for them to understand what they’ve put you through.
But the result is the same.
You learn about their misfortune and indeed, you may feel a little pleasure at the news of their pain. But then, you feel a little dirty. After all, that’s not like you, to want others to hurt. And, as you soon realize, that their pain doesn’t actually eliminate yours at all.
You are bombarded with pictures and information that show that they’re human, with both good days and bad.
This is the most likely result of your internet sleuthing. You see some utopian pictures of your ex with a new partner and later learn of a loss that they’ve experienced. Your brain thrives on these intermittent rewards, which are just as addictive as a slot machine in Vegas. You feel an intoxicating mixture of highs and lows depending upon the nature of what the day’s search reveals.
It’s a distraction from your own life, as you convince yourself that you need to know what they’re up to. Much like reading a daily horoscope, you allow this information to shape your day and shift your perspective.
Your ex let you go, but you’re still holding on. Tying your happiness to theirs.
Ask yourself this – How does your ex’s life REALLY matter to yours?
It’s not as though there are a limited number of “happiness tokens” available and you and your ex are fighting over the same cache.
Nor are you playing some sort of sport where one person is deemed the “winner” and the other has to accept the moniker of “loser.”
And, there is ultimately nothing that you can discover that will make your pain disappear or undo the past.
It’s time. Time to stop directing your attention into the endless chasm of Googling your ex. And time to start spending your time and energy on something far more valuable –
Are you facing an unwanted divorce? Struggling to believe that anything will ever be okay again? I’m not going to pretend it will be easy. But I’m also living proof that it is possible, even when the divorce is traumatic and its effects long-lasting.
At this point, you may be thinking, “Well, that’s nice and all, but HOW am I actually going to be able to find contentment within all of this mess???”
I hear you.
Believe it or not, that anger and frustration you’re feeling can be a powerful tool if you know how to use it. Somebody has done you wrong. And you’re rightfully pissed. And discouraged. Maybe even on the verge of giving up.
Nothing you can do or say can undo what they have done to you. It is impossible for you to take back what they have taken from you – whether it be your innocence or the years you shared.
But what you CAN do is refuse to give them any more of you.
Things started to change for me when I committed to focusing on my own well-being instead of my ex’s horrific actions and the possible motivations behind them. I began to see any thoughts directed towards him or bemoaning the rubble I was left as the emotional equivalent of feeding quarters into a broken vending machine. I wanted what I could see just behind the glass but no matter how much attention I paid, I was no closer to obtaining it. It was only when I started to “pay” myself, that things improved.
Your ex will NEVER be the source of your happiness. So stop looking for it in their direction. Focusing on what you have lost and how your life is now different will not make you feel any better. However, doing the best with what you have WILL lead to a better outcome.
Do you want more specific advice and concrete steps that you can take?
Check out my course on Udemy. For only $20, you receive unlimited access to 28 videos and 84 journal prompts designed to take you through the common stages and reactions people have to 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.
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
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.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 