Ready. Set. Face.

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have a friend whose young daughter narrowly escaped a tragedy this past summer. Around the time of the event, the mom could speak of it relatively matter-of-factly, with only the slightest tremble of the hands and tightening of voice belying the pain and fear beneath.

For the first few months, mom strayed strong. She distracted the child and went on about life. She held the trauma of the near-tragedy at arm’s length with only periodic glances that confirmed its existence. She was okay.

And then the child got sick. Nothing major, just a normal fall childhood illness, but it triggered the fear of losing her child in the mother.

She was facing what she couldn’t before.

The first time through, she didn’t know if her daughter would be okay. That was unfaceable at the time.

This time through, she knows that her child will be okay and so the pent-up emotions are released.

And now she can face them.

 

Often we begin to face things only when we feel safe.

Maslow talks about how basic physical and psychological needs must be met before self-actualization can occur. When faced with trauma, our basic needs of safety and security must be met before we can address , face-on, the emotions at the root of the pain. If you try to face it too soon, while your existence is still precarious, your mind will grip and refuse to let go. If you fail to face it, choosing to keep your gaze averted, it will become like a cancerous growth, slowing releasing its toxins.

Facing Trauma

Acknowledge that trauma is often too big to process all at once. Think of it like untying a knot, teasing away at it until it unravels completely. Be patient with yourself. It’s tempting to pretend to be healed because of the calendar. But the mind doesn’t understand time. Stay with it as long as it takes.

Recognize if you are turning away from the whole of the pain because it is too big to bear. Be gentle with yourself, Do not force it, yet do not ignore it either. Face it in time. Total lockdown is no way to live for long.

Look for ways to help increase your feelings of emotional safety or security. These must be met first. Look for tangibles that prove you are okay. Have a back-up plan. Find people that have your back.

Breathe. Pain has a way of shutting down the breath, as though the trauma whispers in with each inhale. Allow the breath to flow, releasing tension with each exhale.

Recognize that healing is a process, not a switch. It comes in waves, following the pain. Just because you do or not feel a certain way right now, does not mean you never will.

 

In the first couple months after my ex disappeared, I didn’t feel much. I was scared to open the dams, not sure if the impending emotions would be too powerful to bear. I was still in shock. trying to make sense of it all. And, I was trying to push it aside so that I could attend to the necessities of life.

But I knew I couldn’t do that forever.

I booked a short stay at a meditation and yoga retreat with the intention of opening the dam with the professionals there as flotation devices. I left all of the distractions (which I was so good at using) behind and steeled myself for the face-off: woman vs. trauma. Go.

It was pretty unimpressive. A few trickles of loss. Some tears. Some aching void.

But nothing on the scale I feared.

Because I wasn’t yet ready to face it. Again, trauma doesn’t speak calendar. It doesn’t respond well to scheduled appointments.

It likes to show up on its own time.

Even though I didn’t engage in an epic battle with my trauma at that time, the trip was valuable. I learned that I could let the pain in, that it wouldn’t flatten me. I learned that I could work away at it a little at a time. I learned that I couldn’t force healing on my terms. And I learned that my responsibility was to address the pain when it did arise (which was never at a convenient time).

It’s easy to see pain as a bad thing. But maybe it’s a sign of healing, an indication that you’re ready to address it.

Ready.

Set.

Face.

 

 

Value

Posted on by stilllearning2b

At my former school, we used to have two options for credit recovery for failing students.

The first ran two mornings a week for four months. There was a $50 fee for this option, an amount that was doable (especially with payment plans and scholarship options) for our low-income families, yet was also high enough to be significant.

The other option was summer school, four weeks of all-day classes in the heat of July. This choice was free.

For years, I taught under both programs. And, very early, a pattern began to emerge. Every year, the turn out for the few day or two of summer school would be tremendous – the classrooms barely able to contain the students. Yet every year, the numbers dropped exponentially until the class sizes were often in the single digits.

The morning program never started out with as many students (partly because the parents held out hope that their kid could still pull up his/her grade) yet every student that showed up on the first day stayed until the last.

There was another marked difference between the programs. In summer school, the students often acted as though they were biding their time. Many of them never asked a question, never completed an assignment and acted as if they were simply there to keep their desk company. In the morning program, however, the students wanted to learn. They brought in marked tests for clarification, they asked for help on homework and they worked hard even though the sun had yet to rise.

Frustrated during my third stint at summer school, I asked my administrator about this difference.

Her answer was simple.

“It’s the $50. They have buy-in.”

She went on to tell me that there used to be a fee for summer school and the shift in behavior only occurred once it was waved. She told me stories of morning kids on scholarship and how she learned the importance of charging every family something, even if it was only a few dollars. Once the family parted ways with their money, the program had value.

It was important to show up. It was important to try.

If we perceive that something has value, we appreciate it. We take care of it.

 

 

That lesson has stayed with me and I look for it in other areas.

Brock uses the idea of value to help him keep up with things. When he buys cheap sunglasses, they inevitably get lost or broken. But the pricier pair he purchased four years ago? Safe and snug in his car. They have value to him and so he takes care of them.

You can see it at play in those studies that pour cheap wine from expensive bottles while the more valued product spills from the bargain vessel. Every time, the tasters rate the wine based on the bottle. The labels speak of value, thus changing perception.

In my classes, I reward students for perfect scores on weekly quizzes. It’s not an easy goal to reach. When we have to work to achieve something, it is valuable and, perhaps more importantly, we believe we are worthy.

I see numerous examples every day of this economic principle in action – from Groupons to free Kindle downloads.

 

 

And then I look at my former marriage.

I loved him. I loved our marriage.

But I’m not sure I valued it.

I didn’t have to work for it. It was there.

I didn’t have to earn it. I credited luck rather than effort.

 

I believed it would always be there, whether I showed up every day or not.

I was filled with assumption more than appreciation.

It was easy.

Perhaps too easy.

 

 

I’ve learned from that mistake.

I’ve worked hard to get to where I am now.

I’ve paid dearly, in so many ways in the past few years.

I see the value.

And I appreciate it and take care of it every day.

I’m on the lifetime payment plan:)

 

 

Opportunity

Posted on by stilllearning2b

According to Cesar Millan, every bad moment is an opportunity for rehabilitation.

He doesn’t panic when a dog lunges.

He doesn’t get angry when they try to bite.

He doesn’t give up when the dog snaps.

He simply sees the moment as an opportunity.

A moment to show the dog another choice. A different way of responding. A different way of being.

I could have used Cesar the other day.

No, I didn’t try to bite anyone.

But my past tried to bite me.

Brock and I signed up for a house fund registry which meant that a significant portion of our wedding gifts were in the form of money in a joint Paypal account.  We had the agreement that all funds gifted would be applied towards the house with joint decisions. All good.

And then, one morning when I checked my email between classes, I see that $500 had been withdrawn from the account. The email didn’t tell me where the money went or what the intent was behind the transfer.

It just told me that money had been taken.

It just triggered panic in my gut.

I had to endure the entire day before I would have time to log in to Paypal to see the intended destination of the funds or to ask Brock about the transfer.

My past tried to tell me that this was a nefarious move on some level – either trying to hide money or deciding to move forward on a purchase without discussion.

My past made it a bad moment.

My present recognized it as an opportunity for rehabilitation.

In my former life, I would have a) found a way to call my husband right away and demand to know what was going on (see Assumptions) or b) let my panic and anger build through the day as I imagined all of the potential scenarios that could be unraveling.

But this was an opportunity to make a choice.

This was a chance to respond differently.

I started by relaxing. Telling myself repeatedly to take deep breaths to calm the panic in the gut (that would make a good band name:) ). I reminded myself that my response was from the past, triggered by my fears of being betrayed again. My reaction had nothing to do with Brock or the actual situation at hand. I decided to believe that everything was okay. But I also made the decision to check once I got home. Not with Brock, since it was really my problem, but with Paypal.

Trust but verify.

By the time I arrived home, I wasn’t panicked. I wasn’t angry.

I didn’t even run to my computer to log in to Paypal.

But I also didn’t avoid it either.

When I finally did look at the account, I was calm. Rational. Thinking with my present mind rather than with the alarmed mind of the past. I could see clearly and interpret the numbers.

The $500? It was moved into our joint savings account. The amount was set by Paypal’s limits.

I walked down the hall to where Brock was sitting at his computer, wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you for starting to move the money into our savings.”

I never told him about my panic. That’s not his responsibility.

I’m the one who has to whisper my own life and see opportunity for rehabilitation in every bad moment.

Lesson learned:)

 

 

(Ass)umptions

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I read a post this morning by Matt on You Must Be This Tall to Ride that got me thinking about assumptions. Assumptions, both intentional and otherwise, have played a major role in my healing and my view on relationships.

We make assumptions to fill in gaps in information. Our brains hate these voids and they seek to fill them with what makes sense to us and aligns with our views of ourselves and the world (related: How to Apply Labels).  At the end of a relationship, these assumptions can take three main forms: Self Blame, Other Blame and Compassion.

Self Blame

This is often where the depression after a breakup can come into play. You see yourself as broken, defective. You assume that bad things happen to you because you are somehow bad. Or weak. Or unlovable.

In my case, I went through periods where I assumed he left because I was too horrible to be with. I believed that I must have done something so terrible that he had to lie and leave. These beliefs were fed by others who asked what I did to cause him to respond in such a way and, most painfully, these assumptions were reinforced by the suicide (attempted) email he sent my mom and his other wife. He wanted me to assume full blame and, for a time, I did. I believed I was unlovable.

Self blame is a slippery slope. Others often encourage it. The more you look for it, the more it is reinforced. It can have an element of martyrdom, “I sacrificed myself…” Taking responsibility is good; assuming all culpability, however, retards healing.

Other Blame

These are the assumptions that hold us in the victim role. This is where we assume that the intent of the other is to inflict harm and that every action has a malignant motivation.

I was an expert in this one. I assumed he carefully crafted his deceptions solely to harm me. I pictured him calculating the most painful responses, the most hurtful actions and then carrying them out while delighting in my pain. I assumed that he must have some sort of personality disorder and that he was incapable of empathy or pain of his own. I believed that he never loved me and that he was simply a puppet master for 16 years.

It’s interesting and upsetting for me to realize that I even acted this way at times within the marriage. If he did something “wrong” (like forgetting to let the dogs out), I assumed it was intentional. I held both of us to such standards that mistakes were not allowed. Ouch.

Other blame is comfortable. It preserves our own self worth while avoiding any responsibility. It’s a self-feeding cycle that can be difficult to break. But just like assuming all responsibility does not allow healing, avoiding it also keeps you stuck.

Compassion

Assumptions are made when we lack knowledge or understanding. As information comes in, it is important to release or readjust the assumptions. At the end of a relationship, it is easy to picture your ex as your adversary, attacking with a sharpened blade. That blade is often double-edged, harming each partner in its own way.

In my case, I have never had a conversation with my ex to hear his side. I don’t expect I ever will. I have had to fill in the gaps, acquire the information on my own, in order to try to adjust my maladaptive assumptions. (related: Forgiveness 101)

Instead of talking to him, I have listened to the stories of others. Asked questions. And listened to responses.

With each new piece, I adjusted my assumptions.

I now assume that his troubles were rooted in childhood and triggered by the loss of a job and subsequent earning potential.

I now assume that he struggled with addiction in some form that possibly started with the job loss or even before.

I now assume that he did love me. But now I know that love for another is not enough.

I now assume that he was in pain. Lost. Scared. It doesn’t excuse his choices, but it helps me to understand them.

None of those may be true. But it doesn’t really matter. Rather than place blame, they bring compassion. Peace. Understanding.

If I find out more information, I will adjust them again. However, for now, those assumptions are fine. Balanced. Rooted in understanding rather than blame.

I have also softened quite a bit in my new marriage. When I make assumptions of intent, I err on the side of compassion. If Brock forgets something, I first inquire about stress at work or worry about a friend. It’s not always on point, but it does no harm to assume the positive while you’re gathering information.

The saying is that assumptions make an ass out of you and me. They certainly can. But only if you are as stubborn as an ass and refuse to alter your assumptions with time and knowledge.

What’s more important to you – holding on to your assumptions or finding peace?

I thought so:)

On My Terms

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My cat has always been affectionate.

But she has only recently become wise.

For most of her 17 years, she would only allow affection on her terms. If she was picked up, she would squirm out while uttering an irritated yowl. If she was caressed, she would walk away, only to return later to demand attention when she was ready.

When she was the affection instigator, she would stay still for hours, soaking up the strokes and vibrating the air with her purrs.

She loved to be loved. But only on her terms.

At some point in her advancing years, she must have calculated that by accepting affection only on her terms, she was limiting the amount of attention she would receive. Perhaps she learned this from watching the dogs, who were always willing to accept care, even if it interrupted their important activities.

She still approaches and asks for affection when she wants it. But now she accepts it when it is offered. Instead of jumping out of encircling embraces, she snuggles in and closes her eyes in feline ecstasy. Instead of running away from an approaching hand, she now meets it halfway, stroking herself along her head.

She learned to accept love. Even if is wasn’t on her terms.

And I learned from watching her.

I suppose you could say that my ex was fluent in my love languages; he knew how to express affection and love to me in a way that I understood.

When Brock and I first started dating, I was much like my cat in her younger days. I wanted affection on my terms: at a time when I wanted it and in a method I preferred. When it was offered at a different time or in a different format, I would turn away.

Around the same time, I read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. It opened my eyes in two ways, one which Chapman intended. And another that he did not.

First, the book helped me to realize how Brock expressed affection. Some things that I found silly or irritating (when they interrupted my flow) were actually his way of expressing love. Just recognizing that changed my response to those actions. I approached rather than turn away.

The book advocates sharing your love language with your partner and then helping him or her learn how to speak your language.

This is where I disagree.

I am not going to travel to Italy and expect them to learn English.

Nor am I going to enter into a relationship and demand that he learn to speak my love language.

That’s accepting love only on my terms.

And, as my cat learned, that’s limiting.

My cat still teaches us how she likes to be petted, guiding hands to her favorites spots. But she still enjoys the attention even when we miss the mark.

You can teach your partner how you like to receive love. But accept his or her gifts even when they are in a different form.

Instead of expecting your partner to convert to your language, try learning to recognize and accept theirs. You may be surprised at how much love is there when you are receptive instead of critical.

And, as the cat has learned, purrs are better than yowls any day.