How the Language We Use Reveals Our Assumptions

I was working on a post about relationships that begin with infidelity the other day when I found myself at a loss.

Unless I’m sharing my personal story, I try to write from as much as a gender-neutral perspective as possible. I typed the phrase, “Mistress or …” waiting for the masculine version of the word to pop into my head.

And I drew a blank. My trusty thesaurus wasn’t any better and even Twitter couldn’t find a male-gendered term that means an affair partner.

As I reworked the sentence to include a gender-neutral poor substitute (paramour), I found my mind actively chewing on this suddenly-realized vacancy in our language. After all, women cheat (the studies are notoriously inaccurate, but the rates aren’t usually much below men) and I would wager (again, going with statistical evidence) that the majority of those women are cheating with men.

So what are those men called?

 

It gets even more interesting.

 

We have a gendered name for the betrayed husband – cuckhold – a term that originally meant a deceived man who ended up caring for a child born from another man. And in fact, adultery has historically (and in many cultures) been considered much more heinous when it is between a married woman and another man than when the man is the one straying from the marital bed. Which makes sense from a purely economical standpoint; a wayward wife may mean a man’s resources are going to help perpetuate another’s genes.

Yet even without the biological concern of a woman unknowingly raising another woman’s child, there are certainly plenty of men who procreate outside of marriage.

So what do we call their deceived wives?

 

When a mistress is reviled (such as by the wife), she is referred to as the “homewrecker.”

I’ve never heard of a man referred to by that term, even though it is not exclusively feminine.

 

The woman is also more likely to be called terms that shame her for her sexuality, whereas the man is more likely to be called out for his duplicity.

 

The words used extend to within a marriage. How often do we hear about a “frigid” wife being the cause of a sexless marriage? Yet Google implies that men are equally likely to be the frigid ones. Except we don’t call them that.

 

 

The language seems to favor the fooled husband on the marital side and the kept and wanton woman on the outside of the marriage. Even though those roles are easily interchangeable and are more about character and circumstance than about gender.

 

And what does that reveal about our assumptions?

Interesting to think about.

 

Have any known words to add?

Any words you would like to create?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vengeance

I read the report of the woman who broadcast a cheater’s picture on Facebook with equal parts understanding, shame and revulsion. When I first decided to go public with my story, I wanted to use his name and his image. I rationalized it by the fact that his arrest records and mugshot are public documents and that I wanted to protect others from a run in with someone so skilled at conning. Luckily, leveler heads in my life talked me out of it.

That was part of my motivation, but I was still angry at that point and I was also motivated by a desire to get revenge. That’s where the shame comes in. I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I felt the impulse to “out” him. Regardless of what he did, that’s not my role. Furthermore, that’s responding from a place that I don’t want to be. That’s playing by his rules.

Some see it as retribution when I discuss what he did.  I’m puzzled by this.

He left me with a text message.

Fact

I never spoke  with him again.

Fact

He stole money and ruined credit.

Fact (backed up by the IRS)

He committed felony bigamy.

Fact (and there is a warrant for his arrest)

Those things happened. Am I only being a “good” ex-wife if I keep my mouth shut and never divulge what he did? I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sit well with me. Would I also be expected to protect him if he had been physically abusive? When we keep secrets like this, we give the abuser more power and reinforce the victim role.

I’m not acting to put him in jail but nor I am allowing him to keep me in one.

Vengeance is mine but it is not about shaming him and plastering the internet with his visage. Rather, my revenge is finding a way to use his actions in a positive way. It’s not motivated by a chance to get him back, rather I’m driven by a desire to right some wrongs and create meaning and purpose from the whole thing.

And that’s vengeance I can feel good about.

Forgiveness 101

Forgiveness Mandala by Wayne Stratz
Forgiveness Mandala by Wayne Stratz (Photo credit: Nutmeg Designs)

Forgiveness. That word is often tossed about in hushed and almost reverent tones. It is the holy grail of one betrayed. Have you forgiven yet? We feel pushed to reach that nirvana, yet we are unsure how to navigate the labyrinthine path that leads us there. Nor are we even sure that we would recognize our destination once we have arrived. The trouble is that forgiveness will take on a different facade for every seeker and the path will vary depending upon who is stepping upon it. Even though forgiveness is an individual journey, there are some universal guideposts that can help you navigate your own way.

Understand What it is Not

Someone has wronged you. I get it. I’m not trying to take that away from you. Forgiveness is not a pardon. It is not excusing actions that are immoral or illegal. It is possible to accept the past, acknowledge the wrongs, but not be help prisoner by the actions of the object of your anger.

Blur

Forgiveness has always reminded me of one of those optical pictures where you have to relax your eyes and unfocus in order to see the image hidden in the pattern. If you look too hard and focus too much on absolution, it will remain hidden. Think of forgiveness like a shy kitten. If you lunge towards it and try to grab on, it will run away every time. Relax and soften and let it come to you.

Time

Forgiveness takes time. You can’t schedule it like an event upon a calendar (trust me, I tried).  The time needed to forgive will differ for everyone. It doesn’t mean there is something wrong with you if it takes you longer than it did your friend. Be patient and allow it to unfold on its own schedule. I know, it is easier said than done, but that is the nature of this elusive beast.

Keep Living

Luckily, while you’re waiting for the forgiveness fairy, you can keep living. Don’t put your life on hold. Move forward and move on. Surround yourself with people that bring you joy. Play. Laugh. That ember that still burns inside does not weigh so much that you cannot move despite it. Live as though you have forgiven.

Gratitude

Gratitude and anger are mutually exclusive. Be mindful of what you have and (brace yourself, this is the hard part) what you gained from the person that you need to forgive. I know, your hackles went up. “That ^#%^&? How can I be grateful??  He/She did _______ to me!!” True. I’m not trying to take that away from you. You have a right to be angry. But you also have a right to see the good. Look for it.

Remove the Ego

We all find humor in the self-centered world of the 5 year old, yet we really haven’t evolved that much from kindergarten. When things happen around us, we have a tendency to believe that they happened to us. For example, your child comes home and immediately is defiant and argumentative. Your defences go up and you perceive your progeny’s behaviors as an attack. If you take a moment and breathe and remove yourself from the equation, you most likely realize that the instigation for the behavior is probably something that happened at school minutes or hours before. Spouses are no different. Perhaps you weren’t really a target after all, just collateral damage.

Humanize

We are familiar with the concept of putting someone on a pedestal when we idolize them. We essentially do the same when we demonize a person. It can be easy at those extremes to see a person as two-dimensional, flat. We conveniently remove those characteristics that do not fit our perception. The truth is that we are all human in our messy and sometimes contradictory three dimensionality. Allow yourself to see the human side of the object of your anger. Let your own humanness peek out as well.

Start With Yourself

It is amazing as you take the journey of forgiveness how much changes as your perspective moves. You may be surprised that the target, the object of your wrath has shifted to yourself. We don’t like to be angry at ourselves; it feels traitorous, so we often project it on another. Like with everything, you have to begin with yourself. Soften to your mistakes. We all make them. Be gentle with yourself yet firm in your intentions. Let it go. It’s okay.

How will you know when you have reached your destination? There is no placard that says, “You are here.” No one stands at the gate and hands you a medal. Perhaps forgiveness is best described as peace. I hope you can find your own nirvana. Please leave breadcrumbs for those who follow behind.

You can read about my own journey to forgiveness in Lessons From the End of a Marriage.

Learning to Trust Myself

New Orleans. Mardi Gras. And Super Bowl!
New Orleans. Mardi Gras. And Super Bowl!

 

The hardest part of learning to trust after betrayal has been learning to trust myself.

My fiance and his cousin, both huge Ravens fans, were lucky enough to score tickets to the Super Bowl. In New Orleans. During Mardi Gras. Talk about the ultimate boy’s weekend!

Brock came back into town Monday night but due to his exhaustion on Monday and our crazy schedules on Tuesday, we really didn’t have a chance to connect until last night.

We went to one of our favorite eating spots, ordered our food and he set up his iPad to show me the pictures from the weekend. It was a bit of a deja vu experience for me.

Almost four years ago, I sat in a similar restaurant with my husband, a MacBook Pro open in front of us as he showed me pictures of his recent 10 day trip to Brazil. On the surface, much was the same between those two days. Underneath? Nothing in common at all.

Just weeks before leaving the marriage, my husband returned from what I thought was a business trip in Brazil. I was told that he was there to work with a frequent client of his and the specified show he was supposed to be working was in Sao Paulo That was true. The rest was not. The details he told me about the build and his frustrations with the Brazilian labor were complete lies. The names of people he was working with were utter fabrications. Instead of a work trip, it was actually a pre honeymoon with his soon-to-be second wife.

I didn’t know any of this until later.

I completely trusted my husband. It never would have entered my mind that he culled pictures to make a file that was “Lisa” safe, removing all evidence of his fiancee. I never thought to carefully examine the “work” pictures in the mix, looking for signs that they were pulled from the internet or from earlier shows.

My brain trusted my husband completely. Yet, my gut was unsettled during that entire trip. I was anxious, restless, filled with concern for his safety. It knew something.

Last weekend could not have been more different. My fiance was at the ultimate party and I was completely calm. I had no anxiety. No unease.  I looked at his pictures with complete calm, enjoying his enjoyment.

It’s crazy to think that I used to trust my husband more than I trusted myself. I believed him more that I believed my own instincts. I have learned how to trust myself. I have tuned in to my instincts and I am less inclined to rationalize any twinges that I feel. There is no guarantee that I will never be betrayed again, but at least I know that I won’t be the one to do it.

Perchance to Dream

I woke up at 2:30 this morning with pulse racing and limbs twisted under the covers. I had been having a dream where I was trapped in a house with some unknown person that I felt protective of and my former neighbor and her baby (as they were in 2002 or so). Outside the house was a postapocalyptic scene, and I think there may have even been zombies (that’s what happens when you binge on Walking Dead:) ). I remember panicked dashes across the house to get to safer areas and shooting the zombies outside.

English: A zombie

None of that was the scary part. At some point just before I awoke, my ex made an appearance. I don’t even know if he was a zombie or a ‘good guy’ trapped in the house. His arrival was enough to pull me out of my dream and leave me unsettled.

Dreams are such strange things. As a kid, I used to have very vivid and memorable dreams. Some were repetitive and told overarching stories of strange characters (I remember a walking, talking frog with a shirt and no pants, in particular. don’t ask.) where as others would come and go in a single night. I had many dreams that seemed to be premonitions or interpretations. I used to listen to these. I remember waking from some of those meaningful dreams and heading out to my monkey swing in the backyard (kind of my ‘go for a run’ substitute as a kid) where I would swing and spin as I pulled apart the dream, searching for clues. My early nightmares were of the typical monster variety and would send me to a pallet next to my parent’s bed for comfort as I worked my way back into slumber.

Monkey swing:) I used to read and eat popsicles on mine simultaneously. Yup, that’s talent!

As I got older, the intensity of my dreams decreased but the frequency remained the same. I would wake shaking the remnants of a vision from my head several times a week.What’s interesting to me now in retrospect is the theme of the dreams. Not long after my ex and I were together, I started having very vivid dreams every couple of months or so where he cheated on me. I would wake up filled with rage, the sight of his slumbering form next to me making me want to lash out. Perhaps it was due to the lack of a monkey swing to properly analyze these dreams (or more likely my mind’s inability to face the content head-on), but I never did put any merit in those visions. Nonetheless, those were tough days that followed those dreams. I would alert him to my nightmare and he would respond by being especially gentle and affectionate. Even still, it would usually take hours for the residual anger and anxiety to leave my body. It’s strange. Those dreams are the only time I felt anger towards my ex while I was with him. I was just too bone-headed to listen.

Mozart Dancing

After he left, I didn’t sleep. The anxiety gripped my body and caused it to shake, its own tarantula dance, as though I was trying to rid myself of his poison. I spent weeks sitting on the edge of the bed, my eyes fixated on a point on the wall, my mind inhabiting the nightmare that had become my reality. Eventually, I agreed to medication – dosages that would cause a horse to enter a permanent coma barely eased me into slumber. I had only a single dream that entire fall. In it, I was near some benches at a whale watching facility in the Pacific Northwest (where I planned to move at the end of the school year). A male was sitting on a bench, facing away from me. I approach him and place my hand gently on his shoulder. He turns, and I discover it’s him.

Those nightmares stunned me enough I wished for my childhood pallet next to my parent’s bed. He had become the monster, yet he looked like the man I had loved. Variations on the that dream persisted for the first six months. Until finally, they began to fade.

A depressed man sitting on a bench

I remember my excitement when I awoke one morning and realized that I had dreamed of another man – a guy I had been dating. I was thrilled. It was like calling in the Ghostbusters, his appearance sweeping my ex into the vacuum canister.

I weaned myself off the medications that first spring. I left the primary sleep aide until last, fearful that the demons of the night would reappear. For the most part, they haven’t. In fact, my dreams are now few are far between and most are quite innocuous. My ex rarely makes an appearance, but when he does, I still react with panic.

Most importantly, I never have dreams where Brock is unfaithful. I don’t have dreams that cause anger or anxiety that lingers. But if I ever do, you better believe that I’ll listen. And maybe install a monkey swing:)