Displacement

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was enjoying a bath the other day. The hot water filling the tub to the brim, my body submerged except for my hands holding a book and my face peeking out from the suds. I was relaxed. Content.

I heard Tiger begin to dance on the wood floors below as the garage door rumbled open.

That was soon followed by Brock’s voice, “Where’s mama?” he asked Tiger as both man and dog bounded up the steps.

“That looks good,” he said, slipping off his clothes and sliding behind me in the tub. For the next few minutes, we talked about our days  with the sound of the water draining through the overflow in the background. Eventually, the sound of the escaping water stopped as equilibrium was reached once again. The volume of the water replaced with an equal volume of Brock.

We stayed that way for some time, enjoying the company and the warm water.

He exited the tub before me, stepping out while simultaneously grabbing a towel.

The change in the bath was shocking. The water that had once covered my entire body now didn’t even make it around my hips. The once-full bath had been reduced to a few inches of tepid water. Unwilling to end my soak on that note, I turned the faucet on once again, allowing the hot water to fill the void left by Brock’s absence.

We are all aware of the effects of physical displacement in our lives. We are careful not to fill a pot to the brim before adding the potatoes. We know that a full tub will overflow when splashing kids are added. We ask for room in our coffee so that the cream can added without creating a mess. We are not surprised when water levels appear to plummet when objects are removed.

Yet we are often not as aware of the effects of emotional displacement. Of what happens when people are added to or subtracted from our lives.

In the beginning of a relationship, it is like being joined in the tub by another. Other relationships and commitments shift out of the way to allow room for the new company. It can be an uncomfortable change, friendships and activities and habits all vying for attention. Trying to decide what stays and what goes. Figuring out just how much to let the new presence in and how much will have to go to allow it to settle in.

And then, you get comfortable. Your life is full and has reached equilibrium. There may be less of the metaphorical water, but the volume of the relationship makes up the difference.

As long as your partner is there with you, the water level is fine. But as soon as he or she stands up to leave, the loss is shocking. Your body, once buoyant in the support of the water, feels heavy and collapsed on the cold surface beneath. You can stay there, cold and heavy, nerves raw to the whispers of the incoming air.

Or you can turn on the tap, filling your life again with warmth and support. Finding ways to replace the removed volume with new friends and old. Revisiting former passions and finding new ones. Enjoying the buoyancy that comes from a full life.

The tub may still feel empty, but at least you’re not needlessly suffering. Bonus points if you add a rubber ducky:)

After Divorce: From Surviving to Thriving

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Days after my tsunami divorce, my mom turned to me and told me I would survive.

I actually got angry and responded rather strongly, “No, I will not survive. I will thrive. To do anything less is to remain his victim.”

I saw surviving as the bare minimum, the mere intake of breath and food in order to go through the motions of life. I refused to settle for that. I wanted more. It felt insurmountable, yet the vision and hope remained intact.

Inspired by Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, these goals can serve to help you navigate the challenging path after divorce and take you from merely surviving to thriving.

Survive

The first tier of goals are about your literal survival. In the beginning, it is enough to simply focus on your next breath. And then the one after that. The goal is to keep you alive and functioning. These physical needs must be addressed first before any further progress can be made. Read the rest here to learn how to go from merely surviving to beautifully thriving!

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.

My Divorce “Care Package”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Divorce is one of those times when you have to consciously assemble artifacts and experiences that make you feel safer, more sane and more alive. It can be amazing to discover what becomes important, what small detail assumes major significance in the molting stage of your new life.

Here are the contents that filled my divorce care package. What’s in yours? It’s only fair, I showed you mine:)

Rewrapping Divorce As a Gift

Posted on by stilllearning2b

This piece from two years ago is still one of my most popular and shared and has garnered some of the more interesting responses. It seemed appropriate to share it again.

I was asked to write this piece by an editor at The Huffington Post. I knew they wanted the salacious details. I also knew that I wanted to show that no matter how bad things are, you can can use them as a springboard to something better.

 

As we continue in the holiday season and many of you continue on in your divorce journeys, remember that we cannot always change our circumstances, but we can always change our attitude. And that may be the best gift you can give yourself.

Rewrapping Divorce As a Gift

My divorce certainly did not present itself as a gift, trussed up with a big red bow like a Lexus in a Christmas commercial. Instead, it was a big ugly box, filled to the brim with explosives. It was a present I never anticipated and one I never desired. But, as it came with a “no return” policy, I was determined to make the best of it.

I was with my husband for 16 years. Sixteen good years. Little did I know a tsunami was forming beneath the placid surface of our marriage. A tsunami that reached land one afternoon when I received the following text message:

“I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and leaving the state.”

The warning sirens never sounded.

Click here to read the rest.