Forgiveness
Where Are Your Guard Towers?
I had an extensive collection of guard towers in my marriage. They stood side by side, almost forming an impenetrable wall that encircled the union. Each one was fully staffed and stocked with binoculars and communication devices so that no surprise attacks could occur.
There was a fatal error made in their construction, however.
They all pointed outwards, watching for external attacks.
I went into marriage a realist. Sort of. I knew that fairy tales weren’t real and I had seen firsthand the ugliness that life can deliver. I say ‘sort of’ because I would never have thought that my husband was capable of delivering that ugliness. I had a realistic view of marriage but I didn’t have a realistic view of him.
I set out from the beginning to protect my marriage. I was afraid of external threats. I always had a deep fear that I would lose him, but I assumed that it would be to death. That fear was not unfounded since I has lost 13 friends that way in the preceding years. So I erected those guard towers to alert me to any incoming hazards.
When years passed with no alarms, I grew complacent. Fat (figuratively speaking) and happy within the protected enclave of the union.
And that’s when the attack occurred.
From within.
There were no alarms because my attention was focused in the wrong direction. Much like a pickpocket or a magician, my husband performed his tricks while ensuring my focus was elsewhere. And it worked.
My guard towers gave me a false sense of security. They were focused only on outside threats and, even worse, they were built so densely that they kept others out even when they offered no threat.
My towers are different now. I have pruned their numbers, limiting them to a few so as not to obstruct the view of the greater world. I make sure that they are on alert for hazards inside the relationship as well as those coming in from the outside. I ask them to be selectively permeable, much like a cell membrane, allowing benign bodies to pass.
I do have to be careful, as my guard towers are now prone to false alarms. When I hear sirens, I have to learn that the threat may be a ghost from the past and not a real menace.
I am happy within their borders. I trust their ability to alert me to danger. But I am not complacent. And that’s the best guard tower of all.
Radical Gratitude
For Valentine’s Day, I decided to send Brock a daily email with a message of how I love and appreciate him. It’s amazing how much starting my day that way helps to put me in a better mindset. When I take those moments to think about and share my gratitude, I feel more loving and more patient and just happier in general.
But, let’s be honest, there’s nothing radical in that. After all, I’m marrying the man in 7 months, I’d hope I could come up with 28 things I love and appreciate about him:)
Nope, that’s easy gratitude, not radical gratitude. It’s really a form of practicing the perfect. It’s great, we both benefit, but it doesn’t really challenge me.
So, today, I’m pushing myself. I’m presenting myself with the challenge of radical gratitude.
Deep breath.
I’m writing a list of twenty-eight twenty ten reasons I’m grateful for my ex-husband.
Now, before I begin, let me just give you an idea of how radical this is. This is the man who ended a 16 year relationship with a text message and refused to ever speak to me again. This is man who locked our three dogs in the basement, not knowing if they would survive. This is man who stole tens of thousands of dollars from me and refused to cooperate with the divorce settlement. This is the man who committed felony bigamy and currently has a warrant for his arrest. This is the man who was practicing forging his other wife’s signature to use on a life insurance policy on her. You see? Radical.
Okay, I’ve poured the glass o vino and cued the Jack Johnson.
Here goes.
1) I’m thankful that I had such a wonderful best friend for sixteen years. We grew so much together and shared so much over the years. We knew each other from high school. We nursed the other through wisdom teeth removal and stayed together through talks of retirement plans. I’m grateful for that history and those memories.
2) He was always so amazingly supportive. He brought me flowers after a major presentation in high school. He gripped my hand years later during a painful doctor’s visit for shingles. I always felt like he had my back through good times and bad.
3) I’m grateful for the experience we had renovating a house together. We bought the fixer-upper when we were only 22 and not much more than broke. We worked on the house for almost ten years, putting in more sweat and ingenuity than money. He always amazed me with his skills and talents. He was a self-taught carpenter than earned the respect of professionals. He never met a job he couldn’t master. I was so proud of his talents and I loved to learn from him.
4) I’m thankful for how well he took care of our animals – three dogs and a cat by the end. He carefully tended our pug’s stitches when she had an allergic reaction after being spayed. He helped me build a cardboard fortress for the cat when she was a playful kitten. He hand fed our middle dog after he recovered from a broken leg. He stayed up nights for a week with our youngest when she had kennel cough.
5) I am appreciative of the teamwork we shared. We worked so well together. Somehow, we always anticipated the other’s moves or needs and reacted accordingly. I don’t think we ever snapped at each other while we were working on a project – whether setting up a tent in the rain or laying tile at two in the morning.
6) I am grateful for having such an amazing lover. We learned and explored together over our 16 years. I never felt limited and was always completely satisfied.
7) He had an amazing sense of humor. We both shared a love of comedy and of laughter. Through him, I discovered many of my favorite comedians that I still follow today (Bill Burr in April, baby!).
8) I’m grateful that he taught me how to accept touch and affection. Before him, I used to pull back from contact because I found it to be too overwhelming. He was so patient with me and slowly taught me the comfort to be found in his arms. I used to love to lie astride him with my head on his chest just listening to the calming beat of his heart.
9) I’m thankful that he was always willing to talk. This is a weird one, knowing what I know now, but I’m going with my perspective while in the marriage. He never shied away from conversation, even when I woke him early in the morning (not his favorite!). He was always a great listener and always made me feel heard and respected.
10) And, here’s the hardest one. I’m thankful that all this happened. Yeah, it sucked. It was the most painful experience of my life. I’m still paying for it – literally and emotionally. But it has also opened up a whole new world for me that I would not have realized otherwise. I’m happier now than I have ever been and I’ve experienced enough to be more grateful for that than I would have been before.
Attitude
I’m often complemented on my positive attitude about everything that happened to me.
It hasn’t always been that way.
I was angry. Furious that the person I trusted most in this world betrayed me in the most horrific ways, causing me to lose everything I held sacred. I cursed him. I dreamed violent dreams. I wanted to cause him pain. I lived in a perpetual state of fury with all flames directed at him.
I was bitter. Resentful that I made choices about my schooling and career based on him and then he abandoned me. I focused on the unfairness of the sacrifices I had made for the marriage and for him that he spit upon with his actions.
I was jealous. Envious of others whose spouses stayed faithful or at least stayed around long enough to talk. I compared my situation to others’ and bemoaned my particular tale.
I was ashamed. Embarrassed that his deceptions went on for years and I did not see them. I questioned myself endlessly and doubted myself constantly.
I was victimized. I saw myself as hapless prey caught in his crosshairs. I focused on what was done to me, keeping myself at the center of his choices.
My attitude couldn’t do anything to change the past. Being angry wouldn’t make him apologize. Being bitter wouldn’t open up new careers. Being jealous wouldn’t make my ex suddenly faithful and honest. Being ashamed wouldn’t make me pick up on the lies any earlier. And being a victim wouldn’t help me learn how to thrive.
I had no control over the past. No way to change what happened. But I could change how I responded to it.
So, slowly, ever so slowly, I did.
I let go of the negativity that was still holding me hostage. It was not an easy road. It took hundreds of miles running on the trails and hundreds of hours on the yoga mat. It took writing a book and writing a blog. It took therapy and friends. It took a new dog and a new love. And, most importantly, it took time.
The truth is that I still feel those negative emotions towards him and what happened. Some days more than others. The difference is that now I don’t allow them to move in. They visit and go on, leaving room for laughter again.
It never ceases to amaze me how much of a difference attitude can make. I recently found myself complaining about my Sunday chore of cooking for the week. I was feeling bogged down and tired of the weekly planning, shopping and cooking that takes up a sizable portion of my weekend. I realized that I was viewing this as part of my work week; I was allowing it to steal several hours of my weekend. Then, I decided that was not okay.
I can’t change my need to cook. It is a necessity for my health, my job schedule and my budget.
So I changed my attitude. For the last few weeks, I have approached my weekly cooking task as though I was making preparations for a dinner party. It makes menu planning more interesting and keeps me in a good place while shopping. As for the cooking? Well, that’s now the best part. I first take some time to prepare some veggies, cracker and hummus and arrange them on a plate where I can nibble while I work. Then, I crank up the tunes – they vary according to the mood of the day and can run from bagpipes to death metal. Finally, I pour a glass of Cabernet to sip on while I chop up the endless pile of veggies.
Sunday cooking has gone from a chore to something I actually look forward to.
And all because I changed my attitude.
Respite
Yesterday was a stunning respite from winter. The sky was a subtle cobalt blue, unmarred by even the slightest suggestion of a cloud. The temperature, already reasonable at dawn, climbed into the sixties, bringing with it a warmth that has been absent for months.
I spent the day chasing the sun. I elected to skip my usual yoga class as the thought of two hours contained in a windowless room on such a day seemed like villainy. Instead, after completing my indoor tasks early (which included opening all the windows:) ), I started the day with a run. Okay, actually two runs. I first took Tiger for a hilly three mile loop around the neighborhood. Mr. Pitiful struggles when the mercury climbs above sixty; he was trailing behind on the inclines and kept insisting on watering bushes even once his well had run dry. As a result of his slow pace and frequent pit stops, I ended the run ready for more. I dropped him off at the house and hopped in the car to head down the road to a trail along the river.
The trails were bustling, filled with children taking their Christmas bikes and trikes out for a ride, young couples and runners gearing up for the spring racing season. Even as I cursed the crowds as I had weave in and out and even stop at times, I really do love to see so many people out and exercising and enjoying the day and each other. It is a beautiful thing. I just wish they understood that slower traffic to the right applies to the trails as well…
Another four miles and I was spent (I so do not miss those marathon training distances!!!). I fixed a snack upon arriving home and set myself up on the back deck with a book. As the sun moved across the sky, I moved along with it, eventually ending up in a folding camp chair in the driveway. I am solar powered and I was determined to recharge as much as possible while I had the opportunity. The lows today are back in the 20s and the rain has moved in again, bringing with it the threat of severe weather and flooding.
Yesterday was a gift, a brief exhale of winter that allowed the warm breath of spring to fill tight chests. It was an intermission between inhospitable acts when the layers that guard against the cold could be thrown off without fear.
The winters of our lives often have respites as well. Look for them. Create them. And, when they are there, embrace them. Spend the moments chasing the sun. Allow yourself to open the windows, to feel the warmth, to shed your guards. Breathe. It’s okay to feel okay even when your world is falling apart around you. Give yourself permission to laugh. To be present in the lull between the storms. Try not to think about what the forecast predicts for tomorrow or how frigid it was yesterday. That doesn’t matter today.
A respite doesn’t need to be complicated. It doesn’t need to fill an entire day. My dad and I created our first respite from the storm that came with text message that ended my world mere days later:
“Two for Borat, please,” my dad said to the teen in the movie theater window as he handed over his card.
“Sir, I have to inform you that the movie is especially graphic and may be offensive to some viewers. There are no refunds,” the ticket-taker recited automatically.
My dad and I looked at each other, the first true laughs of the week expelled in staccato bursts.
“Welcome to the South,” I said to him with a grin. Besides, nothing on that movie screen could be more offensive than my reality.
Undeterred by the warning, we proceeded to the theater where we shared more laughs and a much needed respite from the reality outside those doors.
Those two hours were a gift. They provided a much needed break from the horror in my life. It was a chance to breathe. To feel normal. To refuel. To live when I otherwise felt as if I were dying.
After my hours in the sun yesterday, another week filled with cold rain and flooding doesn’t seem so daunting. After all, I still carry a bit of yesterday’s warmth with me:)
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 