I’ve never been much of a fan of resolutions. Perhaps it’s because I see the bodies flock to the gym every January only to be back on their respective couches by Valentine’s Day. Or I see the impassioned declarations about eating clean shared publicly on Facebook and I spy a doughnut in the poster’s hand before the month is out. I get it. Change is hard. And in order for change to occur, you have to be ready. And that may not correspond neatly with the dawning of the new year.
Which is why I like to offer up a little twist on the traditional resolutions.
-Examine your thoughts for traces of “always” or “never;” those words usually indicate an underlying stereotype or assumption. Find a counterexample.
-Sift through your responses to people and claims. Look for those topics that make you defensive. That’s a sign that you think you can’t handle some truth. Prove that you can.
It’s so easy to operate within a prison of possibilities built by our own limiting thoughts.
We are primed to fear loss more than we desire gain. Numerous studies have demonstrated that people perceive a loss as more significant than an equivalent gain and will often act conservatively in order to lessen the chances of diminution. One famous example gave the participants $50. One group was given the option of keeping $30 or gambling the $50 with a chance of losing it all or retaining the entire amount. The other group was essentially given the same situation, only their first choice was framed as losing $20. In the first case, framed as a gain, the participants overwhelmingly chose to hold on to their money whereas in the second loss-based scenario, the volunteers were more willing to gamble.
We act to avoid loss.
It makes sense. From an evolutionary standpoint, a loss of food or shelter or territory could be devastating whereas a surplus did not necessarily offer increased benefit (after all, food spoils and you can only use so much land at a time). It is also much more difficult to imagine what life would be like if we suddenly acquired more, but it is much easier to envision a life without the things to which we have become accustomed.
Marketing experts use loss aversion to frame their campaigns, focusing on accentuating any potential losses rather than highlighting gains (rebates and trial periods play right into this). Behavior and motivation experts use this theory to encourage their clients to stick to a new habit (ever heard of those gyms that charge you for missing a workout?). And educators use a fear of loss to influence student behavior and learning (there’s a reason a “-5” on a paper is more influential than a “+95”).
Loss aversion can be a positive trait. It limits risk-taking and promotes a conservative view of resource management. However, like so many of our primal urges, loss aversion often operates separately from rational thought and has the potential to highjack our brain and encourage illogical conclusions and actions (like the sunk cost fallacy, which often leads us to remain in poor relationships long after their expiration date).
In short, all of these situations show that loss hurts. And sometimes that pain can be disproportionate and irrational.
As I’m sure anyone who has experienced the end of a relationship will agree.
But just like how the researchers framed the same payout as a gain of $30 or as a loss of $20, you can reframe the end of your relationship in terms of what you have gained instead of what you have lost.
No, it doesn’t change the reality of what happened.
But it can change your attitude about what happened.
Because when you see the flipside of your losses as gains, it helps to alleviate some of their sting.
I may have lost everything, but I gained a chance at a new life from scratch. There’s something energizing about purging and starting over.
I lost the shared history with my ex, but I gained the desire to reach out and reconnect with other people from my childhood.
I lost the illusion of security I had in my first marriage, but I gained a wisdom and strength that I would not have the trial I endured. And I even found 7 upsides to being betrayed.
I gained perspective, opportunity, awareness and gratitude. I found purpose and pleasure in writing and made more friends and connections than I could have ever imagined.
I gained a new lease on life. And I want to make sure I don’t waste it.
I no longer see my divorce as a loss. I see it as a chance. A course correction.
A gain.
“When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” Wayne Dyer
(to) stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake.
But that doesn’t even come close to capturing the strong emotion and indignant protest that the term often evokes.
For forgiveness to even be a concern, it means that you have been hurt. Perhaps badly. Wronged. Perhaps repeatedly and intentionally. And it feels erroneous to forgive. Unfair. As though we were victimized once and are now being asked to do it again as we offer an olive branch of amnesty instead of sticking that branch where the sun don’t shine.
But don’t worry.
I’m not asking you to forgive.
I’m simply asking you to reconsider what it means to forgive.
And what you do with that is up to you.
Forgiveness is … freedom.
When we hold on to anger or resentment, it binds us to the past. It allows what happened to us to define us and limits our future. Forgiveness is freedom; it is the release from the shackles that anchor you. It is a lightness. A sense of peace.
Forgiveness is not … a pardon.
Forgiveness does not mean that you give someone a free pass. The choices that your assailant made are his or her own burden. When you forgive, you do not relieve them of their liability; you release your encumbrance.
Forgiveness is … acceptance.
It’s natural to turn away from pain. It’s normal to try to rationalize and minimize the bad that has happened to us. Forgiveness requires facing the truth. Seeing the truth. And accepting the truth.
Forgiveness is not … approval.
Accepting what happened does not come with a stamp of approval. You can forgive even while you renounce the choices that were made and the actions that were carried out.
Forgiveness is … acknowledgement.
Forgiveness means that you recognize what happened. You face the reality and address the fallout. You don’t deny the impact and you acknowledge the suffering.
Forgiveness is not … allowance.
You do not have to allow the suffering to continue in order to forgive. You can forgive someone and still remove them your life. You do not have to allow the pain to continue.
Forgiveness is … independent.
Forgiveness requires no one other than yourself. You possess everything you need to forgive the one who wronged you.
Forgiveness is not … dependent upon apology.
Your abuser may never offer condolences. Don’t make the mistake of attaching your well-being to something you cannot control. You can forgive even if the desired apology never comes. Here’s how.
Forgiveness is … letting go.
Quitting is out of fear. Letting go is born from acceptance. Forgiveness is choosing to let go of the anger. Of the resentment. Of the need for retribution and revenge.
Forgiveness is not … letting them off the hook.
Letting go of the anger does not mean you relieve them of any consequence. You can forgive and still file a police report. You can forgive and still allow bad decisions to catch up. You can forgive and let karma take care of the rest.
Forgiveness is … taking responsibility.
Forgiveness is taking responsibility for your own happiness. It is refusing to stay a victim and making the effort to regain confidence and control in your own life.
Forgiveness is not … assuming culpability.
There is a difference between taking responsibility for your own actions and taking the blame for someone else’s. When you forgive, you are not assuming the culpability for your assailant’s actions. That’s on them. And how you choose to respond is on you.
Forgiveness is … reached when you are ready.
Forgiveness comes in slowly. It seems impossible until one day, it’s not. It is a process, not a switch.
Forgiveness is not … performed upon demand.
“Will you forgive me?” never works. It comes from a place of assuaging guilt whereas forgiveness comes from within as a means of releasing anguish.
Forgiveness is … quiet agreement.
You can forgive and never tell a soul. Forgiveness is for you. It is an agreement you make with yourself and chose to carry out in your thoughts and actions.
Forgiveness is not … a public announcement.
Forgiveness can exist in silence. It can be found in avoidance. You have no obligation to tell the person who wronged you that you have found peace.
Forgiveness is … a personal choice.
Forgiveness is a option. One choice of many. You may decide to take that route now. Or maybe it waits until later or later never comes. It’s one of the few things you can control about what happened to you.
Forgiveness is not … a requirement.
You do not have to forgive. Many never do and find another way to continue on. Shrug off the “shoulds” and listen to what you want for you.
Forgiveness is … transforming the future.
Forgiveness is not … changing the past.
Forgiveness is a gift to yourself rather than an offering to your assailant.
The original forecast wasn’t that bad – one night that would dip into the 20s and daytime highs in the 40s with clear skies and no chance of precipitation. Perfect camping and hiking weather.
But as we know, what we expect isn’t always what life delivers.
In this case, I think the computer that calculated the weather models had been hacked to try to cover up the fact that a mini polar vortex would be descending upon the North Georgia Mountains over Thanksgiving.
Hyperbole?
Possibly. Further study is needed.
Serene. No sign of what’s to come.
Our usual pattern with camping is to wake up around sunrise, build a fire to make the all important coffee and then hit the hiking trails around 9 am. We had a feeling Thursday wasn’t going to be usual when we woke up to the sounds of blustery winds and the sharp shrapnel of sleet pelting the skin of the tent. That, plus the fact that the bottle of water inside the text was frozen, were our first signs that the forecast was not going to be our reality.
It’s a wonder the roof didn’t collapse:)
After we unzipped the tent, Tiger ran off into the frozen tundra to do his business and then returned to the shelter of the portico, where even a nest made of blankets could not keep him from shivering. Brock started the fire while I worked to prep breakfast. Our eggs and potatoes were runny that morning, as the sleet added significantly to the water content during cooking. We inhaled them before they could freeze.
His highness’s “seat” when the ground is cold.
Still unaware that the computer weather models were farcical, we consulted our apps and learned that the ominous clouds, gusting winds and frozen precipitation would exit stage left around 11. We decided to hole up in the tent until then before embarking on the shorter of our two planned hikes once the weather cleared. We burrowed back in our sleeping bags, tucked Tiger into his nest and turned on the electric heater while we read and played cards to pass the time.
Snug as a bug in a rug.
As predicted, the skies cleared and the sleet assault abated. We donned our gear and set off on a four-mile hike through the Chattahoochee National Forest and around the base of Blood Mountain.
This is what it’s all about:)
I felt like I was in an arena designed for The Hunger Games; as soon as we set foot on the trail, the clouds moved back in and the sleet began again in earnest. Still, it felt wonderful to be outside in the fresh air and to stretch our limbs cramped from our hideout in the tent. Even Tiger stopped shaking as he ran a few paces ahead of us, nose to the ground in search of Sasquatch.
How can you not be happy in this?
By the time we had climbed up and around and back down, the weather had shifted again. The wind took on a nasty bite and even though it was not even 2 pm, the sky was quickly growing dim. We consulted the weather wizards again – the predicted high of 34 now looked like a Bahama summer. We would soon be looking at 20s. Low 20s.
See? Polar vortex.
If it was just us, we would simply add more layers to the outfits (we already looked like the kid from A Christmas Story) and more logs to the fire. But it wasn’t just us and our big-in-surface-area and sparse-in-body-hair pit bull was cold despite his jacket and his sheltered nest. Very cold. And there’s nothing more pitiful than a miserable and shaking 100 pound pit bull.
I thought about trying to build a snowman.
So we made the decision to make dinner early before seeking shelter yet again in the tent. I think the food in the cooler was warmer than the food outside. I’m not sure what the freeze point of an avocado is, but we found it. Once all of our bellies were full of warmish food, we retreated to the big house. Where, apart from a few frantic bladder runs, we spent the next 16 hours.
I just bought this tent (Big Agnes Big House 6) to replace an old one. It was great – highly recommended!
It could have been a horrible trip. We saw more of the inside of the tent than we did of the woods. We were cold and shivering much of the time, as the temperature inside the tent fell into the 30s. We were sore, our muscles cramping from holding awkward positions for hours on end. And our dog kept giving us evil looks like a sullen teenager.
NOT a happy camper!
But despite all of that, we had a great time. There were no grumbles. No complaints. It was an adventure to be enjoyed and time to be shared.
The only camping trip where we gained ice!
But most of all, it makes it wonderful to come home and makes us so grateful for the little things in life –
The coffee that stays warm for more than 60 seconds.
The toilet seats than don’t feel like they’re performing cryotherapy butt removal.
The toothpaste that isn’t frozen into an unusable brick and requires hot stone massage to even budge.
The bedroom that doesn’t make you dream of the North Pole or deep space with its frigid temperatures.
And the clothes, that once washed of their smoke and soot, can be worn again in single layers like a weight loss before and after advertisement.
Even Tiger looked as though he no longer took his favored sleeping spot for granted as he melted into the pillows with a contented grunt.
When we come home, we are always thankful for what we have.
When we drove home from the mountains yesterday, we passed miles of traffic queued the other direction for a large outlet mall. I just had to shake my head at the thousands of people lining up to buy more.
Because when it comes down to it, happiness is not about having what you want, it’s about wanting what you have.
And sometimes the best gift doesn’t come from the store. It comes in the form of a reminder to be thankful for what you already have around you.
I’ve never been very good when it comes to accepting help.
I used to see it as a weakness to allow others to come to my aid. My “I can do it myself” attitude shone through even as a toddler when I would use some random object as a tool to allow me to turn on a light switch rather than wait for someone to do it for me. I had a strong need to independent. Sovereign over my own domain.
Which made my fourteenth year very challenging. I had surgery on my hand after which complications limited sensation and function in my right arm for several months. The girl who used to turn on her own lights even when she couldn’t reach was now dependent upon someone else to help her dress each day. Not an easy lesson in learning to accept help. In fact, as soon as I was physically able, I returned to my stubborn self-reliance.
Until I started dating my ex, that is. He slowly worked to soften me. Teaching me that it was okay to accept help. I still bucked him at every turn, except when I sick and too weakened to protest. But after turning away offers of assistance, I would usually kowtow to his headstrong ways.
And he was always willing to help. From rescuing me from a misbehaving car (I swear that seems to be a recent theme in my life!) to cleaning the house to taking me out to distract from an awful day at work, he was always there to lend a hand.
And I grew to expect it. He always had my back and so I assumed he always would.
Of course, what I thought was support, was really just a distraction from the knife he plunged into my back.
What’s that saying? Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger? Well, Dear Whatever Doesn’t Kill Me, I’m strong enough already. Of course, maybe that wasn’t the lesson I needed to learn. Maybe I needed to learn to accept weakness.
I got better at accepting help during the divorce. Much like the-year-with-no-arm, I didn’t have much of a choice. Although I could dress myself this time around, I still needed assistance with many of the day-to-day necessities. But, unlike my experience at fourteen, I didn’t immediately revert to my intensely independent ways.
It was easy to learn to ask and accept help from friends and family.
But in my new relationship, it was a more difficult process. It’s hard for me to trust my husband to have my back, even though he always has. It’s hard for me to relax and depend on him for something. It feels risky. Scary. Vulnerable.
But those are necessary emotions in a healthy marriage. There is always risk.
I don’t think I’ll ever again have the blind faith that someone will always be there for me. But I think that’s okay. It means I can take care of myself if I have to and that I can accept a hand if it’s offered. It means I’m always grateful for any support that comes and not stranded if it doesn’t. It means I feel comfortable asking for assistance and that I can find a work-around if no help is available.
I think I’ve finally found a good balance now between independence and reliance.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 