How I Recovered From Spousal Abandonment and Betrayal

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I wish there was a recipe for healing after the demise of a marriage – add these ingredients, sift out these elements, let the concoction rest for a specified period of time and then apply heat to set it in place. But divorce is not so simple. Not only do cooking times vary, but the ingredients are as diverse as the stories.

So, don’t look at this as a specified and exacting recipe that has to be followed to the letter to create a favorable outcome. Rather, consider these suggestions and feel free to add, subtract or manipulate ingredients to suit your taste and your resources.

These are the steps and strategies I used to find peace with my past, happiness in my present and excitement for my future:

I Believed I Would Be Okay

The reality hit like a cannonball to the gut. My body slid to the floor as my brain attempted to make sense of it all. Even in those early moments, when I had to face the truth that the man I adored had been systematically destroying everything I loved, I believed I would be okay again. I had no idea how I would get there; the future was one big question mark after another, but I held fast to the idea that there would be an “other side” of the hell I was thrust into.

I Asked For and Accepted Help

I was beyond fortunate that my dad was with me when I received the news and that the rest of the family soon rallied to render aid. I composed an email to them that let them know how best they could help.  I set aside my stubborn independence to move in with a friend when she offered her spare room. After declaring that I did not want medication, I listened when others advised it was needed. I went from a leader at school to the cared-for one. And I accepted every offer of help.

accept help

I Surrounded Myself With the Right People

Until I experienced it, I was unaware that sudden spousal abandonment was even a thing. In the early days, I desperately turned to Google for answers and to assure myself that I wasn’t alone. I stumbled upon message boards where shocked and grieving spouses shared their stories of the awful and traumatic ends. After posting my own story, I logged off for good. Although I felt comfort at knowing this had happened to others besides me, I didn’t want to focus on the pain. Instead, I intentionally surrounded myself with the right people – compassionate even though they didn’t understand and positive even though they would bitch along with me.

I Wrote, Posted and Tracked Goals

There was so much I could not control. I couldn’t go back in time and change my choices. I could not alter my ex’s actions. I couldn’t speed up or steer the legal process. So I grabbed on to what I could influence. I wrote and posted twelve goals for the year ahead: everything from running a race (my first) to making two new friends. Some of the goals were multi-faceted and overwhelming (find a new job), whereas others were simple and direct (learn to cook one gluten free meal to excellence). Those goals were all written with healing in mind; they were my stepping stones to happiness and gave me some much-needed control when everything else was insanity.

Continue to read the rest.

 

Pages: 1 2

Identity Theft

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My stomach dropped as I read the words on the screen:

We take your privacy and your security seriously. In order to process your request, you must first complete the following identity quiz.

The last time I had to take an identity quiz, I failed.

It was just over three years ago and I was in an AT&T retail store to open up my own account. I was already nervous about committing to the higher monthly fee of a smartphone and I was worried that I would fall flat on some credit score high jump.

Those weren’t the problems.

“Okay,” the clerk said, angling the computer screen and keyboard my direction, “I just need for you to answer these quick questions to confirm your identity.”

The first question was a softball to the gut: “Which of the following is a name you have used?”

At least I knew that answer I thought, as I selected my former married name, swallowing hard at the rude intrusion of the past.

I hit “next.”

“Which of the following is an account you have had in the previous five years?”

I didn’t recognize any of the names listed. With a prickly sense of dread, I turned to the clerk, “I don’t know this one,” I explained, “My ex. There was a divorce. He lied. He hid. He’s wanted for a felony. I’ve been working hard to rebuild, but I…”

My voice caught as I feared that he would again manage to interrupt my future.

“It’s okay, honey, “she replied in a nurturing tone, “I’ve been there. Just do your best and don’t worry. We’ll make this work.”

Bolstered by her conviction, I did my best on the remaining nine questions, putting forth my best guess on account names, balances and addresses.

But my best wasn’t good enough.

I failed my own identity test.

The clerk (AKA my hero) got on the phone with the finance department and went to bat for me.

“She went through an awful divorce and doesn’t know most of the answers to the questions. I have in my hand three forms of photo ID, a checkbook and a bank statement, all in her name. It’s her.”

And I could have kissed her as she finally hung up with a triumphant smile on her face.

So you can see why I nervous about submitting to another identity test.

The first question?

“Which of the following people have you resided with?”

The answer?

My husband’s name. My current husband.

A tiny hint of a smile crept over my pursed lips.

“At which of the following addresses have you resided?”

The correct response was the address of the town home that my husband had when we first moved in together.

The pursing of the lips faded entirely.

The final question had to do with my current county.

I passed my identity test!

Once I was duly acknowledged, processed and allowed within the stronghold, I ran into the bathroom where my husband was taking a bath.

“I just had to take an identity quiz and all of the questions were from the past five years!!! Isn’t that awesome?!?”

“Sure,” he said, with an indulging smile.

I felt renewed as another layer of the past was shed.

My identity was stolen.

But I got it back.

Time to Bloom

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You would think I would know better by now.

But apparently I don’t.

Okay, so that’s not quite true.

I DO know better. I just choose to ignore what I know I should do so that I can instead do what I want to do.

Sometimes the risk pays off and the rewards are early and plentiful.

Other times?

The risk leads to added work, stunted progress or even an early demise.

The official frost-free date for the Atlanta area is April 15. This means that, to be safe, nothing other than the hardiest of shrubs or perennials should be placed in the ground until that date.

And after emerging from the dark of winter, the middle of April feels a lifetime away. Added to that are the early blooms catcalling to me on every corner and the seduction of 80 degree days interspersed among the cold, damp days of early spring.

And so, like every other year I’ve had a plot of soil, I gave in. I spent all day Saturday turning this

photo 2into this.

photo 1And now there is a freeze predicted for the coming weekend. And if I don’t respond, my new plants will end up stunted or even dead.

But even though I will be hauling blankets and towels across my yard this weekend, I don’t regret my choice. Those early flowers are bringing joy now and with a little TLC over the next couple weeks, will become a permanent tapestry in the garden.

I had to laugh at myself this past weekend as I stubbornly and impatiently ignored the advice of the experts as I tucked the tender foliage into the cool soil. I was reminded of how I was after my ex left. When I stubbornly and impatiently ignored the advice of the experts as I dove headfirst into the dating world.

I was advised to wait until the divorce was final to begin dating. But that still-unknown date felt like a lifetime away. Besides, the marriage was dead and buried the day he left. I was counseled to wait until I was healed before fraternizing with other men. But even though I was making progress, healed as a finality still seemed an impossibility (and I also fully believe that some areas of healing can only happen within the context of a new relationship). Besides, I reasoned, I’m not looking for a relationship. Just some dates for some education and distraction. It was suggested that I start out slowly, testing the dating waters (and my own constitution) before going all-in.

I stubbornly and impatiently ignored all of that advice, signing up for Match and (over)filling my dating calendar.

It was a risk. I was still a tender plant not yet toughened to the harsh world outside the protection of the nursery. I could have faced stunted growth or even my destruction.

I wasn’t ignorant of these facts. But I chose to ignore them.

To heed the drive inside that demanded growth and blooms.

To feed the soul that craved some beauty in a life that had been reduced to rubbish.

To believe the hope that abundance would return and that roots would form again.

It wasn’t always an easy path. There were times I had to cover myself in blankets as I waited out a chill I was not yet strong enough to endure. I faced setbacks and challenges. But I do not regret my choice.

There are always those who advocate waiting to explore love again. There is often prudence to waiting. But it can also become a trap of never finding the perfect conditions.

My advice?

You’re ready when the urge to grow becomes greater than the need to hibernate.

You’re ready when the potential of the rewards makes the risks seem bearable.

You’re ready when you can accept that the blooms may be temporary, but that you can enjoy them nonetheless.

And most importantly –

You’re ready when you’re ready. Not when some expert tells you that you should be.

Facing Avoidance

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I remember this strange limbo after my ex pulled his Copperfield – I was afraid of facing the totality of my new reality and yet I was also afraid of the repercussions of avoiding the truth. In the early days, the decision was made for me; I was barely able to function, much less process. Flaming bits of reality passed by me like meteors falling to earth, moving too fast to see yet leaving behind an uncomfortable heat. But as time shuffled on, I could no longer use the excuse of not being able to face the pain. I had to either confront the truth or accept the fact that I was actively avoiding it.

I applied a logical strategy amidst the illogical domain that I then occupied. I gave myself permission to avoid the pain until a scheduled yoga and meditation retreat. It was the griever’s equivalent of a decade-long smoker going cold turkey. I went into the retreat armed with a journal, my comforting blanket and plenty of tissues. Not present? My phone and any books. There were no distractions. No excuses. This was the time to face the pain.

After registering, exploring the property and meeting the facilitator, I wrapped myself in warm clothing, gathered the journaling supplies and folded myself into a solitary rocking chair overlooking the mountains. I took a deep breath, and gave the pain that I had been studiously avoiding, permission to enter.

It wasn’t what I expected. I held some image of the pain entering my body like a demon possessing some innocent in a horror movie. But my body didn’t jerk back from the shock nor did the chair begin to rock of its own power.

Instead, I felt a dull sort of pain that began to ebb and flow seemingly at random. The tears cycled from monsoon to dry season and back again with whiplash speed. The words inscribed on my pages danced from past to future and nightmare to dream.

I hurt, but much to my surprise, my most dominant feeling was one of relief.

I was relieved to give permission to the tears with no sense of what I “ought” to be doing.

I was relieved to finally face what I had delayed and, in doing so, quiet some of the fear.

I was relieved that the harsh reality didn’t capsize me and that it seemed that I could handle the truth.

I was relieved that the pain felt more like the bombardment of solitary bricks than running into a solid brick wall.

I was relieved that I was finally facing what I had avoided and I held hopes that by facing it, I could diminish it.

We avoid because we are afraid of the truth. Yet fear only builds in the darkness of the unknown.

We avoid because we do not want to suffer. Yet suffering then becomes the background noise of our lives.

We avoid because we want to pretend that reality isn’t real. Yet the truth will always find a way out.

We avoid because we believe we don’t have the energy to face. Yet that’s only because that energy is being expended on running away.

We avoid because we feel that it is someone else’s responsibility to heal us. Yet you cannot outsource healing. You have to do it yourself.

We avoid because we fall victim to the siren song of busyness. Yet that is just another excuse kicked up by a panicking brain.

We avoid because we tell ourselves that we can get to it later. Yet limbo is no way to live.

We avoid because facing it validates it. Yet it was already real even if we refused acceptance.

You cannot accept something until you face it.

You cannot release something until you hold it.

You cannot change something until you see it.

It’s time to face your avoidance.

To trust that you are strong and capable enough to handle whatever hides beneath the bed. Life under the covers is no way to live.

The Judgement of Pain – Enough Already!

Posted on by stilllearning2b

They’re dropping like flies. The daily bombardment of death and destruction as the bombs render flesh and landscape into unrecognizable rubble is too much to bear and the drone operators are leaving the job behind to retain their sanity. The intimate, up-close view brings the carnage into reality, even when the one operating the drone is safely occupying a padded chair in a cubicle back in the U.S.

And compounding the anguish?

Many of these pilots are shamed for their feelings, since they are not “real” soldiers and their bodies are not facing physical harm. Their healthy-looking bodies belie their broken minds.

And yes, if you had to put human suffering on a continuum, being physically present in a war zone would certainly seem to be worse than viewing it through a television screen.

But here’s the important part.

We don’t have to put pain on a continuum.

We don’t have to adjudicate and rank hardships.

Better or worse is not only relative, it’s inconsequential.

All that matters for that person is how they feel.

And that they receive compassion, support and encouragement (from themselves and others) to feel better.

Because when we judge suffering, we only add to it.

I read a Twitter exchange the other day between two people who had stumbled across my piece on The Huffington Post about PTSD after divorce:

photo 4

photo 3-4

photo 2-4

photo 1-1I know nothing about these two people and what they have endured. I did not attempt to engage them in conversation. But the exchange made me sad. Not for me, but for the many people who find my site by entering in some combination of “PTSD” and “divorce” into their search engine. Those people are in real pain and they are looking for real validation that their feelings are okay. And probably hope that they will again be okay.

And by telling them that they are not allowed to feel that way, all it does is add shame to the mix. Because if they are not “supposed” to feel that way, then something must be wrong with them.

The first step to resolving suffering is to accept it.

Only then can you begin to address it.

I have to be careful myself with judging pain. Every day, I deal with teenagers who are inconsolable because of some issue that, from my adult perspective, seems petty.

Because they are not seeing it from an adult perspective.

They can’t.

All they know is that based upon what they have experienced, this situation hurts.

And my job is to listen, acknowledge the distress and help them move beyond it.

The takeaways –

  • It doesn’t matter where someone’s experience falls on the continuum of human suffering. All that matters is where it falls on his or her personal continuum.
  • Just because someone’s situation was worse, doesn’t mean their pain was. Don’t assume.
  • When we judge pain, we are saying that we understand their pain. And we can’t. Because we haven’t lived his or her life.
  • Judgement does not alleviate pain; it compounds it. Acknowledgement and compassion are the first steps to ease the suffering.
  • By focusing on the similarities in the responses rather than fixating on the differences that caused the pain, together we can learn how to heal.

And, just so you know, the response was not accepted on the Huffington piece because comments are closed due to the age of the article, not because of any censorship of alternative viewpoints. It’s always interesting how we all make assumptions based upon our beliefs and experiences. Myself included.