Adhesion

I had surgery on my wrist over twenty years ago. A ligament that was putting pressure on the median nerve was severed to allow the electrical signals to travel unimpeded to and from my hand. The surgery was ultimately a success, providing some pain relief and an increase in sensation and function. However, it was not without its side effects. As a result of the cut ligament, my median nerve was exposed and the slightest pressure on the inside of my wrist felt like the sharp ulnar pain of hitting the “funny bone.”

 

Superficial palmar nerves.
Superficial palmar nerves. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I learned to avoid that sensation. I grew protective of my wrist, afraid to flex it too far or expose it to the risk of injury. I babied it, wrapping it in a protective brace whenever it started to hurt or my hand started to numb. Those measures, appropriate in the months after the surgery, were probably too extreme as they continued through the years.

 

But I was conditioned by that point. I was so pain averse with my wrist that I would fall on my face rather than brace myself with my hands. (it’s okay to laugh as you picture the predicaments I ended up in!) The pain avoidance was an overreaction, like someone who suffered a burn from a stove top being afraid to cook, but it was an overreaction that I accepted.

After years of being afraid of pushing the limits of my wrist, the inevitable occurred – scar tissue began to form around the site of the surgery. The self-imposed limited range of motion became enforced by adhesion. This scar tissue replaced the fear of pain with real pain when I tried to move my wrist too far.

I am just now beginning to release that adhesion, to unstick the glues that bind my wrist and hold it tight. It wasn’t an intentional process, rather it snuck up on me (probably the only way it could ever have happened) while on the yoga mat. Through yoga, I have slowly been tearing through the ropey tissue that has hindered my movement. I find that I can flex it further and hold more weight without the pain becoming overwhelming. The release has been physical but also emotional, as I learn not to fear the pain radiating from my wrist. I have learned to trust that the discomfort is temporary and bearable. I don’t have to avoid it.

I used what I learned from my wrist in healing from my divorce. The initial pain of the separation was the sharp pierce of the surgeon’s blade through flesh, leaving tender nerves exposed. At first, I was afraid of the pain. I sought to avoid it by medication and distraction. Lack of flexion in the beginning allowed some adhesion to occur, wrapping me in its bindings and holding me in place. Luckily, I didn’t hold my heart as still as I had my wrist, or the sticking would have been worse, perhaps even permanent. I knew that I had to keep my emotional self moving and fluid so that I did not become stuck. I knew that the pain wasn’t fatal and that it would diminish with time. I could have braced my heart like I had braced my wrist, but then I would still be learning how to let it be free twenty years from now.

I am now more afraid of adhesion than I am of pain.

The Sixth Love Language

Cover of "The 5 Love Languages: The Secre...

I read Gary Chapman’s The 5 Love Languages about a year after my divorce. Chapman proposes that we each have a primary love language that we are best able to receive: acts of service, words of affirmation, gifts, quality time and physical touch. I read the book with one eye on the past, analyzing patterns in my marriage and one eye on the future, looking for current applications of the book.

Both perspectives proved to be interesting.

With my ex, I had to learn how to give and receive physical affection, as that love language was important to him. It’s strange that he was my teacher in that language: I came from an affectionate family and he came from a “hands off” environment. I guess that goes to show that nature can override nurture! Apart from physical touch, we were pretty balanced on love languages. I don’t think either one of us had one stand out more than another and I don’t think either of us ever felt like we couldn’t understand the language of the other. Our issue was that he didn’t reveal the truth. His love languages said one thing while concealing his actions, which said something quite different.

The book had more to say about my developing relationship with Brock. He didn’t do so well with physical touch and I had trouble at times reading his other gestures. The book helped to give me perspective and to look for his expressions of love in other ways. They were there all along, I just didn’t always see them. His love languages may have been a whisper to me, but mine were an overwhelming shout to him. I had to learn to tone it down while he had to learn to dial it up.  We have found a balance and it has had more to do with the recognition of how the other expresses love and the understanding of how it is received than of trying to change the languages we each speak.

I like using the concept of love languages like I use other labels: as sticky notes, temporary shorthand used until I have gained full understanding. The love languages are simplistic by design, reducing our complexities into rather small categories. Although you probably identify more strongly with one or two of the languages, you can most likely relate to all of them at times. They can be useful, especially in newer relationships, as you try to understand how your partner communicates and receives love.

ASL short for "I love you"

But eventually, the sticky notes should be removed so that you can see your partner for all of who he/she is and not just as a love language. And that’s when the sixth love language develops – the one that is unique to your relationship. That language is formed from the shared history, the private words, the successes and even the pitfalls. Its vocabulary is built from experiences; its syntax comes from understanding and compromise. As it is a new language, there will be errors in grammar or diction. It’s okay. Keep trying; the language will continue to develop and grow along with the relationship. It is a language that no one else can speak. If the relationship dies, the dialect dies with it.

As you move into a new relationship, one of the challenges is forgetting your former love language and clearing the slate for a new tongue. Be patient. It takes time to get to know someone and even more time to create a language together (there is no Rosetta Stone for love languages!).

Be sure to listen. Don’t be afraid to try. And remember to laugh when you make mistakes. It takes time to learn a new language but it’s always worth it:)

From the Fugue

I’m just now rejoining the land of the living. I was among the zombies for the past couple days. No, not in a fun way like when Brock and I were extras in a movie about the walking dead, but in a ‘my body has been taken over by pathogens’ kind of way. Not so fun. Especially because it’s my spring break. I’m trying to resist the urge to pout and stomp my feet.  It helps that pouting and stomping requires more energy than I currently possess.

We usually try to go camping each spring break, but Brock’s work schedule did not allow for this year (again, not pouting or stomping). I realized a few years ago that it is very important for me to get out of town for a least a couple days each spring break. If I don’t, I find myself getting grumpy upon hearing the stories of lavish vacations when school resumes. I don’t need the long or elaborate trips (okay, want maybe, but not need), just a short jaunt to a new location with a new (or no) routine.

This year, I decided to go to Asheville and stay at Peaceful Quest Retreats, which is owned by a fellow blogger:) It was a great decision. I love Asheville and I haven’t been in many years (with my ex). I enjoyed puttering around the shops, watching the crowds, eating an awesome veggie bowl at Laughing Seed Cafe and touring the art museum.

basketballs as grapes? love you, Asheville:)
basketballs as grapes? love you, Asheville:)

I forgot about my increasing headache as soon as I pulled into the parking spot at Peaceful Quest Retreats. The name is apt; the setting is absolutely magical. And the company that evening was too:) It was a great night and I was looking forward to more.

don't you just want to sit in those chairs?
don’t you just want to sit in those chairs?

Unfortunately, my resident pathogens had other plans. I awoke the next morning with a sore throat and body aches. I pretended they didn’t didn’t exist long enough to tour the property and visit the arboretum. The latter was one of the nicest I have ever seen and I really want to see both in the summer when all of the trees have leafed out.

I think he's asking for the leaves to appear!
I think he’s asking for the leaves to appear!

I then made the difficult decision to cut my visit short so that I could drive before my fever took full hold and so that I could get to the doctor first thing Monday morning. Sigh. Stupid bacteria.

But I’m not pouting or stomping.

I had a great (although waaay too short) trip. I met new friends and saw new sights. I slept for 18 hours and saw some very bad TV which reminded me why I prefer books. The antibiotics are working and I am slowly winning the war against the invading hordes.  I took advantage of my low energy today to tackle my tedious to-do list for spring break (including finally updating my blog’s look!). I hope that there is an overlap of good weather and wellness over the next few days so that I can get outside and enjoy the hikes and the gardens that I adore. But, even if that is not to be, I’m not pouting or stomping because I still have these precious days to slow down and take a breath. And that’s worth a smile.

Read the Rest of the Story

Available on Amazon (print and Kindle) or on Nook.

5.0 out of 5 stars Gut-wrenching, humbling, empowering page turner August 5, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
From the very first page you feel what the author is feeling, you are with her as she is delivered the shock of her life. Her husband is gone, but he didn’t die, he simply up and decides one day to leave her, their pets, and their home behind. You feel her shock, her disorientation, her paralyzing fear and disbelief and sadness from the very fist paragraph. You are there with her on the floor, as she shuts down, trying to process the news, completely immobilized by the sudden, debilitating trauma of her husband making the decision to abruptly end their longtime marriage.

I’m a news junkie, I like to read blogs. I was driven to read this particular story, at first out of sheer curiosity. It started with reading a brief synopsis of her story on her Huffington Post blog. Her story immediately caught my attention, perhaps because I’ve known people like her former husband. People that posses a unique and bewildering talent for weaving elaborate webs of deception. I think what caused me to fixate on this particular story was at first my own desire to understand why some people develop a taste for manipulation, for living in and perpetuating lives based on lies.

From the first sentence, this book is a page turner and quite difficult to put down; as you learn one piece of the story you immediately begin to thirst for the next. In this case, Lisa has truly lived what has often been said, a reality stranger than fiction. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be manipulated and lied to so succinctly and completely by the one person you’re supposed to be able to rely on and put your trust in the most, /after/ a marriage of ten years and a relationship of sixteen years! It simply boggles the mind and for me, calls me to question my faith in humanity itself. How is it that some people come to be so self-centered, so diluted that they can perpetuate acts of complete and utter treason against not just another person, but their /spouse/?

How could a man be caring and loving and intimate one moment, and for all the many years leading up to that moment, and then decide abruptly, coldly and without any feeling at all to simply vanish from her life, from /their/ life together, with nothing more than a text message and a very cold and unsettlingly impersonal “Dear John” letter? Without ever having a conversation with her, without ever expressing any disinterest or dissatisfaction in or with their marriage? How does a man then also marry another woman while still married to his first wife? How is it that she never saw any signs or clues of his pending blitzkrieg of complete emotional and financial ruin? What could make a man so distorted and narcissistic to consciously make these choices? Well, friends, this book does not disappoint. This true story of betrayal, of infidelity, of bigamy, of a woman’s story of how she picked up the broken pieces of her life and mended her soul and confronted and laughed and cried and began anew will haunt you, will move you, will humble you. And yes, will cause you to question many, many times the sanity of the man she married. I found myself completely captivated by her story.

And, finally, if you are like me, in a happy, loving marriage, it will also give you reason to count your blessings, and be grateful with and humbled by the joy and the tremendous fortune of having a good marriage with a good person. Reading a story like this just makes me love my wife all the more and see how lucky I truly am too. For people like me, this story is a cautionary tale that decrees that at any moment a bomb can fall from the sky and sweep it all away in the blink of an eye.

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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Haunting and Hopeful August 8, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
I have just finished reading Lisa Arends’ “Lessons From the End of a Marriage” and, although I have turned my Kindle off, the story still haunts me. If this book were presented as fiction, readers would say this is not realistic, that no one could be as cruel and destructive as this man was. Yet it is true. It really happened.

Lisa Arends writes with a style that is honest and engaging. She shares with us her journey to recover from having her world kicked out from under her. Her story is a demonstration of the full gamut of emotions that are experienced when something this heart-wrenching happens. The unexpected occasional humor gives the reader more insight into the author’s personality, and I have to admit that chuckling out loud in the midst of reading this book at first felt so wrong. But I quickly came to realize that Lisa’s ability to realistically ‘tell it like it is’ is one of her many strengths that helped her discover who Lisa Arends really is.

This books shows the worst of humanity, but it also joyously demonstrates the amazing potential resilience of the human race. We have the ability to let go of hurt, let go of anger, and to choose instead peace and gratitude. Thank you, Lisa, for sharing your story with us.

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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Powerfully amazing and inspirational! September 25, 2012
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
First, let me say that I know the author and witnessed this story. So, consider me somewhat biased in terms knowing how incredible this story is and how incredible this author is to come out of it happier, better and just plain fabulous. But, keep in mind, no matter what I knew, I never knew her whole story–and now I do. Since I have laid my cards on the table I still feel I can write an honest review of her work. This book is truly an example of how truth is stranger than fiction because no novelist or Hollywood writer could make this up! Lisa’s story is one of overcoming trauma, loss and total deception of a magnitude that those of us who learned of it and those of you who will read her story can only wonder how it would be possible to overcome. She is the living embodiment of grace and as her story unfolds one begins to see that she is a survivor who decides she will not be defeated but will triumph in spite of great wrongs done to destroy her. Her story is gripping from the first paragraph. Its almost impossible to believe this is a true story–if she were not my friend I would think this was a story from Dostoevsky or DH Lawrence. I even told her the first time we spoke after her life imploded it would make an awesome book and it has indeed. Lisa’s writing is masterful in terms of literary device such as metaphors and imagery . She is a brilliant wordsmith who knows how to paint a vivid picture while avoiding bodice ripping melodrama–and believe me, this story unfolds along just those lines. Her strength is how she is so honest and insightful about herself. There is no way you can read this book and not find her vulnerable, heroic, hilarious (the gallows humor is a necessary comic relief to such a truly sad story), and a tower of strength. You cannot fail to be astonished by her story, you cannot fail to learn from her, and you will find this book to be a fast-paced page turner that you cannot put down! So, buy it, read it, share it, promote it–its one of those rare books that cuts across any line you can think of and leave you saying, “WOW!!!”

The Most Important Lessons

Often, the lessons we need most are the ones we are most resistant to. I never wanted to be divorced. In fact, losing my husband, through any means, was my greatest fear in life. So, when I found myself suddenly single at the age of 32 after being betrayed by my best friend and partner of 16 years, I was lost.

The best lessons can often be found when we are facing unanticipated change and loss. It is a window where we are lost and searching, broken and vulnerable, wanting and open. It is a time when the ego has been forcefully stripped away and we are able to face those challenging lessons that we may usually avoid. In those moments, we learn who we really are and what we are capable of.

The following are some of the lessons I learned on the heels of my divorce:

1) When gratitude is your wrapping paper, everything is a gift.

You cannot always change your circumstances, but you can always change your attitude. I wasted time after the divorce being angry and playing victim. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to soften and to look at the bigger picture. The divorce and its associated trauma happened; I could not alter that reality. I could, however, choose to change my reaction. I have begun to practice radical gratitude — being thankful for the man who deceived and abandoned me. I began by writing a list of ten reasons I am thankful for him and I continue to write a note of gratitude every time I make a payment on the debt he left behind. The situation hasn’t changed, but I now can view my divorce as a springboard for better things.

2) Happiness is my choice.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.