I remember well the first time I felt that spark. My husband had left only months before and I was still reeling from the loss. I knew that I wanted to love again, to be in love again, but, at the time, that desire felt like an impossible dream. I was beginning to question whether I still contained the capacity to feel passion. To bond. To trust. My world was filled with pain and pain was the only language I was fluent in.
Read the rest on The Huffington Post.
One of the most common complaints in a relationship that has gone the distance is the lack of excitement. Of passion.
The spark fades and is replaced by a sense of comfort.
Of predictability.
It’s natural to look for stability in our relationships. We want to feel safe. We want to limit that oh-so-scary feeling of vulnerability. We may be willing to trade some of that early excitement for the comfort of knowing that our partner will be there and that we will be safe. We exchange passion for security.
The problem with this transaction is that security is merely an illusion. There is no such thing as a relationship that is divorce-proof. There are no guarantees. We are trading real goods for the promise of a return that may never come.
It makes sense to take certain precautions. Much like most pay their rent on time so they don’t have to live with the daily fear of being evicted, it makes sense to be cautious in love. But not so cautious that you trade all excitement for the false promise of invulnerability. Even perfect rent payments do not protect your home from burning down around you.
There are problems inherent with assuming too much security. You become complacent. Bored, even. You may begin to seek excitement and novelty outside of the the relationship. Eventually, your internal narrative regarding your spouse changes to match your perceptions, reinforcing the idea that the lack of passion is par for the course with him or her. The very assumption of stability can erode away the foundations of a relationship.
You can maintain passion. You can draw out excitement. But it does mean letting go of the illusion of security. It means protecting your passion even when it can be scary.
Try listening to your partner with an open mind rather than leading with assumptions. He or she will surprise you if you allow it. When you believe you know all there is to know about someone, you begin to fill in the gaps automatically. But if you listen, really listen, you may discover something you didn’t know. Of course, that something may also be against your preferences. There’s the trade-off.
Look at your partner as an individual. Watch them in their element. See the best side of them come alive. It may or may not be a characteristic that you normally witness in them. See it. Appreciate it. Recognize that you are a team but not a single entity. Your partner is his or her own person. As you are yours. Maintain some separation, some mystery. In that way, you always leave room for discovery.
Be proactive about maintaining experiences as a couple outside of routine. Routines allow us to function but they also become suffocating if you never deviate. Try new things. The excitement will transfer to the relationship. Embrace a certain amount of unpredictability. Don’t restrain laughter. Be willing to try and look foolish.
Don’t depend upon your partner to create passion. Find it yourself. Explore the things that bring you joy, that give you purpose and allow you to create. Your partner may not share your interest in gardening or ju-jitsu, but you can share the energy that it brings you. Take responsibility for your joy. Passion has a way of being contagious. Pass it on.
Amusement parks have created an entire industry around the balance of security and excitement. They know how to give you the feeling of vulnerability, with its associated joy when you emerge unscathed, without too much of the risk. You can find that balance in a relationship as well. Let go of the illusion of security. Actively seek excitement and novelty within the relationship. Protect your passion as diligently as you protect your heart.
Related: Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems
In the midst of chaos, recognize what works. And find peace.
I had two harbingers of good will yesterday:
1) I had quite a bit of wall patching and painting to do at our current rental to appease the great and powerful landlord. I had appointed myself this task last night. I removed all hardware from the walls, spackled and sanded and yogaed while waiting for the pink spackle to dry to white (seriously, I think this stuff is one of the best home improvement innovations in recent history, especially for those of us who tend towards impatience). Most of the walls on the “to be fixed” list were covered in the paint they came with. Paint that the landlord said resided in a can in the garage.
I located two promising cans, hacked the paint-encrusted top off of one, stirred to blend the separated mixture and swiped a test strip on the wall. No matchola.
No problem. I opened the second can (actually, the remains of a 5 gallon bucket). I wished I hadn’t. Umm…can latex paint spoil? This bucket smelled like it had been used to hide a body not hold Summer Chaff, or whatever the color inside was called. Trying not to breathe, I mixed the questionable fluids within. What? It may stink, but I needed to cover the now-white spackle and the evening was getting from me.
This one wasn’t a match either. Damn, this was starting to feel like online dating.
I looked around my mostly empty office as I pondered what to do. Panic was starting to set in. Fixing these walls is critical to getting our deposit back and every dollar counts right now.
My eye fell on a plastic bag filled with paint, counter and flooring samples that I collected for renovating the new house. There was a large paint chip placed on the top of the pile. Could it be? Could it really be? I snatched it up and held it to the wall. Seamless. Suspicious, I moved to another room, cloaked in the same paint, but with very different lighting. Perfection. A quick trip to paint department, and all is well. I wish it was as easy to patch holes in my life as it is to patch holes in the wall.
This is not the first time I have had to color match an existing wall. (I wonder if the apartment complex I lived in ever found the 1″x1″ square cut out of the drywall in the closet and used to obtain a match?) But this is the first time I have ever had success with a paint chip. Especially one that I already had. Especially the first one I touched.
And speaking of fingers,
2) In all the craziness, we are trying not forget to take care of the final details for the wedding. Like buying wedding rings. I had already decided to buy mine off Amazon (I know, how very modern and practical). The problem? I had no idea my ring size. We got the engagement ring from a private jeweler and he just sized it to fit. I could have gone to a brick and mortar to determine my size, but that takes time and I hate abusing sales people when I know I don’t intend to buy. Enter the coolest app ever to come to ring shopping: Find My Ring Size. All you need is a ring that fits and a standard credit card or driver’s license card. Use the card to make the screen display true to size and then hold up your existing ring against the images to find your correct size. Now, $80 later, I have the perfect slim and plain white gold band. That fits.
Two tasks have now been checked off the list. But even better, they were moments of alignment amidst the chaos. That brings peace and a space to pause and breathe before the world overwhelms again.
I actually have that paint chip sitting where I can see it so that when I feel panic starting to set in, I can remind myself that sometimes, things just work.
One of my Twitter followers asked me if I was going to rename my blog, Lessons From the Beginning of a Remarriage now that I am going to be married again. She continued by noting how it had to be strange promoting a book about divorce while I was preparing to wed. I love the idea and the nature of the title, but the name of this blog will not be changing.
When I first found myself suddenly single, I looked online for support. I found two broad types of divorce blogs and support groups: those populated by people in the thick of the shock and pain (hereby dubbed “the purgers”) and those run by people who kept the pain at a distance (“the sanitizers”). I identified with the purgers; after all, I had plenty of anger and sadness to share myself at that time (I could kvetch with the best of them!) . However, I also recognized that spending time sharing sob stories would not help me heal. So I moved on. The sanitizers made me ill in those early months. They made divorce seem like something entirely rational or they chose to take a Pollyanna stance, making it out to be all sunshine and roses (How to Throw a Great Divorce Party!). They had some good points, but I couldn’t relate and I wasn’t willing to listen since I didn’t believe they had ever felt my pain.
I chose not to share my story until I was past the worst of it. My intent from the beginning was to help people and I needed to make sure my own oxygen mask was securely fastened before I attempted to aid others. At the same time, I knew I didn’t want to be a sanitizer. I may not have felt the pain myself anymore (true at least most of the time), but I certainly hadn’t forgotten its sting. I write about the early pain so those who are there don’t feel alone and those who are healing know that I understand the anguish. I write about the healing process to give support and assistance for those who are struggling. Finally, I write about dating and remarriage to give hope to all.
My topics of choice have naturally evolved as I’ve moved on. I no longer talk as much about my personal divorce experience and I bring in more about love after divorce. That’s natural and I have to believe that the blog, like me, will continue to evolve. At this point, there is a divide between my blog and my life. I still write about divorce yet I rarely think or talk about it in my daily life. It’s really not that different than the math I teach. Even though I may solve equations all day at work, I do not bring them home with me (even though my students seem to think I do math all evening for fun!).
(There are exceptions. For example, just today, my coworker mentioned that many of our students this coming year are in single parent homes. She knew I was divorced but didn’t know any of the story. She said she had a hard time understanding why someone would divorce, especially with children in the picture. She is coming from her experience where divorce is very rare. I shared with her my story and some of the stories that have been shared with me. By the time we parted, I think she had more understanding and compassion as well as a little insecurity when she realized that no marriage is divorce-proof.)
It is strange sometimes writing about divorce while a wedding contract sits beside my computer. But it’s strange, not bad. On a personal level, I can still learn from looking back at my own experiences and hearing about those of my readers. Even more importantly, I want to show other people that you can laugh again after crying, trust again after betrayal and love again after divorce.
I will still write about divorce from the perspective of someone who has been there and moved on. After all, for every ending, there is a new beginning. Maybe the most appropriate title for the blog would be, Lessons From the End of a Marriage, the Middle of Healing and the Beginning of a Remarriage. But that would be one hell of a URL! 🙂
It’s quite funny. I’ve been engaged for a year but for some reason, many of my coworkers only realized that I was getting married soon after the following picture made it on Facebook:
There is something about a picture (and the word “bride” by my face!) that makes it real. I feel very comfortable about the decision to marry again. It has been deliberate and each step towards commitment has been intentional.
I found this article, Ten Tips For Those Considering Remarriage, on Psychology Today. It’s good advice and helps you make sure that you’re thinking with your head as well as your heart (or your fear!) as you make the decision to remarry. Even if you feel that remarriage is well in your future (or you don’t think you’ll ever venture down the aisle again), it’s a good checklist to help you take inventory of your current emotional health and relationships.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 