Just Breathe

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We have a habit (and, yes, that “we” certainly includes “me”!) of making things more complicated than they actually are.  Check in with your body; is it tight, constricted?  Breathe.  Visit your mind.   Do you feel anger, frustration, fear? Breathe.  Are your thoughts on a trip to the past or perhaps the future?  Breathe and bring them home.  It doesn’t have to be complicated or fancy to work.  Close your eyes, fill your lungs, feeling the chest rise into each nook and cranny.  Let the breath out, feeling your lungs empty completely.  And just breathe.

» Breathe. :zenhabits.

Just breathe

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I’ve Buried the Hatchet, but I’ve Marked its Location

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Making a hatchet sheath, step 2: flip the hatc...

Forgiveness is such a loaded word.

It requires an acceptance of someone’s actions.  Actions that may be horrific, born from unknown motivations.

Forgiveness was on my mind soon after I received the text that ended my marriage.  According to the platitudes I had always heard, I needed to forgive him.  It was the right thing to do.

It was an unfathomable thing to do.  I viewed forgiveness as a selfless act, and I had a self that was way too hurt to pardon its executioner.  I couldn’t begin to even understand what he did, much less WHY he did.  And, now, I was supposed to exonerate him for those same things?  It just seemed like one more way that he would be getting away with his choices and actions.  I refused to endorse his behavior with my stamp of approval.

Time passed.  He remained unforgiven.  I thought I could attend to my anger without addressing that little matter of absolution.  I was wrong.  I held on to an ember of hate, fueled by my refusal to accept his choices.

I grew to see forgiveness in a different light.  It was actually a selfish act for me.  After all, I do not expect to ever have any contact with him again.  He will never know if I am his pardoner or if I hunt for vengeance.  I forgave him for me.  It helped to extinguish the fire of anger.  It brought peace to my days and kept him out of my dreams at night.

In order to find forgiveness, I had to shift my view of him.  I had to see him as sick, confused, desperate.  I do not know how true any or all of those labels are, but they are true to me, as they helped me to feel compassion for him.  They let me accept that my greatest love sought to destroy me, regardless of intent.  I cling to those labels when I feel the anger spark.  I cover the ember with thoughts of mental illness and a frantic push to survive. I chose to see him as weak and frightened, acting in his own twisted version of self defense, rather than as some evil puppetmaster, cruelly controlling my life.

I do not endorse his choices.  Regardless of his mental state, he lied and manipulated for years, he committed bigamy and fraud, and he ran and hid like a frightened coward.  I still believe that he belongs in prison for his actions.  I still would feel no sadness if I heard of his demise.  I have simply found a way let go in my mind so that I could find peace.

I have forgiven him, but I will never forget the pain.  I’ve buried the hatchet, but I’ve marked its location.

Extend a Hand

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Grasping
Grasping (Photo credit: Giant Ginkgo)

In those first few days and weeks of sudden singlehood, I was angry.  I wanted to curse his name in a thousand languages, yet I knew only one.  I wanted to create effigies of him and burn them, but our county had posted a burn ban that summer.  I wanted to use his mug shot for target practice, but I owned no range weapons.

Bow and Arrows
Bow and Arrows (Photo credit: JennicaLyons)

I realized soon enough that this mindset would not help me in the long run.  I turned to the internet, looking for inspiration from people who had been there.  Guides through the hellish journey of the end of a marriage.

I was disappointed in what I found.  The vast majority of sites were populated with people who were in the early stages.  Filled with vitriol and anger, spewing forth their rage across the web.  I get it.  You cannot heal until you release the pus that poisons the wound.  But I wanted to hear from people who had started to scab over.  I wanted to know what to expect when the scab fell off.  Or how to keep it from becoming infected.  Even better, I wanted to know what the scars of divorce would look like and how to help them fade.

Day 121: Scarred
Day 121: Scarred (Photo credit: Sarah Mae)

What I found was that people stopped sharing, stopped talking, once their own journey was set and they were out of the overwhelming darkness and confusion that dominates the early stages.  That is a shame, for there is much to be learned from those who have traveled the long road and know all its markers.

The most powerful images I have from Tough Mudder is the spontaneous creation of human chains, as people (strangers in most cases), who were just slightly further along on an obstacle, extended a hand to the person behind them.  This linkage allowed all to successfully navigate an obstacle that would have been insurmountable alone.

Those of us who are just a little further along on our journey through divorce and trauma can help others by extending a hand.

 

…and a Small Step Back

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have developed a bit of mail phobia since my divorce; it has a tendency to bite me just when I feel relaxed.  I got bit today.

I posted about my huge (psychologically speaking) win with the IRS when I was granted innocent spouse relief a month ago.  It seems like I let my guard down about taxes a bit too soon.  Today I received a letter from the state that the refund I was owed for 2012 will be applied to an outstanding balance (that I did not know about) from 2006, one of the years the IRS took away my culpability for.  It’s so hard not to let the anger surge forth again.  The dollar amount is not what bothers me, it is the fact that he still has not addressed his responsibilities and that I am still being asked to pay for his deeds two years after the legal divorce.  It makes me want to stomp and scream, curse his name, and declare how unfair it is.

But none of that will help.

The reality is that it is my mess to clean up even if I didn’t make it. I just need to get my big girl panties on, be thankful for what I have, and move on.

After I visit the punching bag, that is:)

Anger Deflation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My biggest stumbling block was (and at times, continues to be) anger.  I could not get past the deliberate nature of what he had done.  Holding me, telling me how much he loved me and would miss me while his bride’s ring sat in his car, ready to be placed on her finger within the week.  The years of lies and manipulations that covered the hemorrhaging accounts.  And, worst of all, he went on the attack with the divorce, blaming me for everything.  How could I not be angry? Livid?

I spent much of the last two and half years wrestling with the “how.”  How could he do this?  How could he seek to destroy the one he claimed to love (and seemed to show love to up until the last text)?  How could he kiss me, be intimate with me, knowing that he was orchestrating this symphony of destruction?  Try as I might, I just couldn’t make those actions, those lies,  match the man I knew.

So, I thought of him as a boy.

I thought about what would cause a child to lie.  Children generally lie out of fear.  They want to please, and when they now they have disappointed, they seek to hide their actions by spinning tales.  Looking over the last few years of my marriage, I saw a path (relating to a failed business attempt) that could have led him down the path of telling lies to hide his shortcomings, to protect me from the truth.  As with a child, if these lies are not caught, they eventually become habit.

I thought about what would cause a child to lash out against loved ones.  Children often lash out when they feel trapped and threatened.  When  he lashed out, he had been caught.  The carefully crafted facade that he wanted the world to see had been stripped away, his deceptions, his failures bared for the world to see.  He saw me as threatening his core, his very self, so he lashed out in a desperate  attempt to shield.

I may be wrong in these motivations. Perhaps he is simply a sociopath,  immune to other’s  pain.  Maybe he is evil, enjoying the suffering of others.  But that doesn’t fit the man I knew, and so it does not bring me peace.  However, by looking at his actions as I would a child’s, I have found that I see him as scared, unsure, and lost.  That helps  to deflate some of the anger, releasing the pressure and allowing me to move forward.