‘Tis the Season

‘Tis the season.

The stretch of the year anticipated by some and dreaded by others.

It’s the time when family gathers and the lack of family pierces.

We bond over memories and rituals and some mourn the loss of traditions.

We see the wonder of the season through the eyes of our children and some feel the pain of being apart from their offspring.

Holidays are especially tough in the first couple years after divorce as you’re struggling to find your footing while tripping over Hallmark commercials and the message of perpetual cheer.

If you’re facing the holidays after divorce or a breakup, here are my very doable suggestions on how to cope.

And remember, family are the people that have your back even if they don’t have your blood.

The Problem With Arousal

We tend to see arousal in a relationship as a positive attribute.

We correlate it with the abdominal butterflies of the early dates and the heady rush of the first kiss. We enjoy the tunnel vision of young love and the electric nerve endings primed with anticipation. Untold books are written about difficulties with a lack of arousal and how a deficit in excitement can lead to a marital dead bedroom when a partner fails to elicit a response in the other.

That’s a limited view of a complex biological mechanism.

Arousal is a physiological state where the autonomous nervous and endocrine systems are turned on and ready to go. The increased heart rate, blood pressure and alertness makes us ready to fight, flee or, in the case of a potential mate, maybe another “f” word. It’s an evolutionary response that downshifts our brains into basic survival mode, the instinct to protect self and offspring prevailing over all other thoughts.  The vision field literally narrows to limit distractions and focus attention on the task at hand. The body is primed to attack or run as blood flows into the limbs. In a true survival situation, a heightened state of arousal is key.

Most situations are not truly about survival. 

Several years ago, my now-husband and I were walking Tiger on a trail along the river. A car suddenly veered from the road onto the path, dramatically splintering a fence, before coming to a stop mere feet in front of us. I immediately felt my heart accelerate and my body begin to shake. I remember feeling a need to act, to move, yet feeling unsure what to do. I looked over at Brock and was surprised to see him calm and unmoving, visually assessing the situation and making an action plan. Unflustered, he handed me the leash and instructed me to move Tiger out of the way into an adjacent field.

Brock’s years of medic training had taught him how to mitigate his body’s arousal system. Whereas my brain was sent into the panic of high alert, he was able to maintain a lower level of arousal that still allowed him to think rationally, process stimuli and act logically.

Too much arousal is as detrimental to a relationship as too little.

Not every situation is as dramatic as a car crashing through a fence. In fact, sometimes it can be as subtle as a particular phrase or echo of a memory that awakens our survival-brain. Primed for fears of abandonment, whenever Brock used to express displeasure or disappointment with me, my body would respond with an all-out flood of neurotransmitters. Through that heightened lens, every word, every movement was a threat to my survival.

In that state, I could not respond rationally. I could not see the bigger picture. I could not problem solve or make connections. And I could not risk showing any vulnerabilities, as my brain was convinced that everything was a threat. Communication is impossible when one or both partners are flooded with emotion. And if one or both people continually respond in a heightened state? Every discussion becomes a battlefield.

Affection is a dangerous antidote to hyper-arousal.

Cesar Milan often works with dogs that are in the “red zone,” the canine equivalent of fight or flight. He cautions the owners from providing affection when their dog is in that heightened state because it is rewarding the animal for being in the red zone. Instead, he waits until the dogs are relaxed and only then does he try to train or reward them.

Humans are no different. As an introvert (shown to be more sensitive to stimuli) geared towards anxious, I am naturally prone to an excess of arousal. Throughout my first marriage, my then-husband used to respond to my alertness by soothing me, using affection and attention to lower my excitement levels. It worked in the moments, but it also did nothing to discourage those moments from reoccurring.

Your arousal levels are not fixed; you can train your body to respond differently.

Nowhere is the brain’s ability to regulate arousal more apparent than in sniper training. These men and women learn how to lower their heart and respiratory rates to extremely low levels, make complex calculations and perform detailed fine motor movements all while in potentially dangerous situations.

We can outsmart our reptilian brains through mindfulness and practice. We can use the power of our rational minds when we are not in the red zone to change how we respond when faced with a perceived threat. It takes persistence, practice and patience. But you can retrain your brain.

Learning to control your arousal state is critical to relationship success.

The Gottman Institute has studied arousal states in couples and has determined that a lower level of arousal during conflict is positively correlated with marital longevity and happiness.  It makes sense. Learning to take responsibility for your own actions and overreactions is a key in mature and balanced partnerships. When you hold your own fuse, you are able to limit the potential of a conversational conflagration.

In the bedroom, by all means turn it up. But in the rest of your marriage, you may be better served by turning it down.

 

 

Unsaid

This seems to happen to me every fall. I play host to a common rhinovirus. Apparently, I’m great at making those little buggers feel right at home because they move in and invite all their friends. Some years, I end up with pneumonia. Other years – the lucky ones – I make it through with only a sinus infection, bronchitis and, the worst for a teacher, laryngitis.

The timing of these illnesses is always impressive. Three years ago, Brock and I were in the middle of moving homes and had our annual Thanksgiving camping trip scheduled when we both came down with the munge. Not ones to be easily discouraged, we held to our plans although we had to make a couple NyQuil runs during the trip and I think our coughing kept Tiger up during the night. Two years ago, I was blessed with a bout of pneumonia just a few short weeks before my marathon. I was still able to run although I’m sure the illness had some impact on my race experience. Last year, it hit Brock during our wedding week and me shortly after.

And this year?

No pneumonia, knock on wood. But no voice either. I’ve been attempting to teach math with pantomime and interpretive dance and to communicate in meetings through lip-reading and telepathy. I’m only partly joking.

It’s exhausting trying to get through a busy day with hundreds of people with no voice.

But even worse?

It’s frustrating.

There is always more that I want to communicate than what I can conceivably convey. I’m in the middle of the group yet I feel invisible. Impotent. Dependent and decrepit. Especially when the classroom phone rings and all I can do is stare at it pathetically.

Not a feeling I like.

I’m hopeful, though. Brock and I are both on the mend and hopefully we’ll be healthy before we hit the campground for Thanksgiving. Hiking is more fun without my seal-bark cough scaring away all the wildlife and toasted marshmallows over chilled NyQuil.

And maybe I’ll even have a voice for tomorrow when I expect my principal to do one of my formal observations.

Of course, she may enjoy my interpretive dance about volume instead:)

Stay well, folks. It’s okay to be a bad host sometimes!

 

 

 

 

At Some Point, It’s No Longer About the Nail

hurt divorce

In the beginning, I made it all about him.

What he did.

Why he did it.

How he did it.

Where he was.

Who he was.

 

It was an escape of a sort. A distraction. If I stayed focused on him, I didn’t have to think about me.

 

What I was going to do now that my life was washed away.

Why this happened to me.

How I was going to survive and rebuild.

Where I was going to live.

And who I was without him.

 

But at some point, I had to decide to make it all about me. To turn my energies towards what I could change rather than curse what I could not.

Because no matter how much attention I turned towards him, it wasn’t going to help me feel any better.

 

When you first step upon a nail, the sharp steel tearing through tender flesh, it is prudent to focus on the nail. First by removing the offending stake and then by examining it for any signs of rust or fragments left behind.

And then at some point, the nail no longer matters.

Only the wound is of consequence. And your attentions must turn to the ministrations of puncture care, ensuring that it heals fully without infection to poison the blood.

 

A difficult divorce is much the same. Once the distressing person has been removed, focus on them only leaves your wounds unattended.

Because at some point, the nail no longer matters.

Only you do.

 

Learn more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Feel Scared

Until my divorce, I thought I had a plan for my life.

I thought I had a loving husband.

I thought I had a savings account.

I thought I knew my future.

And then, with one text, it was all gone.

And in some ways, it was the most freeing moment of my life.

Because I faced my greatest fear.

And survived.

 

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Not only is divorce itself scary, it has a way of triggering childhood fears as well. If you’re feeling anxious and scared after divorce, these posts are for you:

Are you having trouble sleeping? Are you easily triggered? Do you have flashbacks that immediately take you back? Then you will relate to the idea of PTSD after divorce.

 

If you have been betrayed, this piece will help you understand how your thinking changes. Once you see a zebra…

 

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Healing isn’t linear. Days and even months of okay can be followed by a no good, very bad, horrible day.

 

faith

 

Do you find that triggers seem to attack when you least expect? Are you tired of overreacting to situations?

 

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The best news? You can retrain your brain. Every bad moment is an opportunity to respond differently.

 

Bone

 

Often we cannot face things until we feel safe. Ready, set, face.

 

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