Why I’m Attracted to People With a Difficult Past

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It happens to me all the time.

A knowing look between virtual strangers. Words left unsaid yet with full meaning comprehended. A nod to the side, understood to reference “all that”in the midst of casual conversation.

It says, “I see you. And I see that you have suffered. And even though I don’t know your story, I know that we are kin.”

People that have a past, that have been through stuff, have a way of finding each other. It’s a club none of signed up for, yet we now all know the secret handshakes and code words used to identify other members.

If I inventoried the people most important to me, their combined tragedies would fill a country music album. There are motherless children, those who have been abused and abandoned, people who are enduring long and painful and scary medical ordeals and others who have suffered great losses.

But suffering isn’t the only thing they have in common.

They also have the overcoming (or at least the first steps) of it.

—–

One of the reasons I was attracted to my first husband was that he had a maturity and perspective that comes from going through difficult experiences. It made him stand out from the largely affluent and untouched kids at my high school. As my own life experiences – a sense of abandonment by my dad, a health crisis and the unexpected deaths of several friends – compounded, I no longer felt as though I had anything in common with the average 16 year old.

Then I met him.

And we had that unspoken conversation. That handshake of pain. A meeting of eyes that had seen more than they should.

We didn’t feel as though we belonged in the worlds we inhabited. But we felt as though we belonged together.

It was an hysterical bonding of sorts. A grasping. A union born from suffering.

Of course, I didn’t see any of that at the time. I just knew that I felt understood. That he could relate to facing challenges greater than deciding what to wear the next day or what to do when you hadn’t studies for a test.

Little did I know that he would later become the source of my greatest life lesson to date.

—–

It’s completely natural for people that have difficult pasts to gravitate towards one another. After all, we often bond over shared experiences and beliefs. And we look for people that can relate to and empathize with our own situations.

That attraction isn’t always healthy; however, sometimes bonds formed from suffering become mired in suffering. The pain simply is transferred from one to another, keeping it nurtured and alive. Sometimes one person takes on a victim role and the other, needing to be needed, plays the savior. The past can become the seed that holds the relationship together and a reticence to release it (and possibly the bond) develops.

I see these unhealthy relationships like two weak swimmers trying to save the other from drowning. The combined efforts only seek to weight them both down.

—–

When I started dating again after divorce, I intentionally looked for men that didn’t have pasts. They were surprisingly common, those guys that had made through 30, 35 even 40 years of life relative unscathed.

They intrigued me.

But they didn’t attract me.

Sure, they weren’t as superficial and two-dimensional as a gaggle of sheltered teenagers.

They were perfectly nice and nothing was glaringly wrong.

But they also didn’t get it.

They had never had to face a loss that made every breath feel as though oxygen had been replaced with concrete. They had never been forced to dig so deep within themselves that they feared they would get lost before they got out. They had an easy assurance that everything was going to be okay. Because for them, it always had been.

I felt separate from them. Different.

And I also felt a strange need to protect them. To let them be in their unaffected worldview for as long as fate allowed.

They seemed fragile to me. Untoughened. Untested.

I was equally uninterested in men who still lived in their pasts and showed no signs of wanting to move on or those who tried to pretend that it wasn’t a big deal. I knew what happened when suffering was damped down and pushed aside – my ex taught me that one. And I had no desire to live someone else’s past.

I found myself attracted to men who had been through the lows of life and had climbed out, one difficult step at a time. Someone who also knew how bad it could be and yet hadn’t given up. Someone who developed strength with every step and wisdom from every glance back. Someone who wouldn’t pull me down or carry me along, but who would walk with me.

We’re often dismissive of difficult pasts as being unwanted baggage.

Yet often the people with the most to carry have the greatest spirits.

—–

When I look around at the amazing people I choose to have in my life, I’m blown away by their resilience and attitudes. I surround myself with them because they understand and also because they inspire.

 

Footprints on My Heart

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The following was one of the responses to my most recent piece on The Good Men Project about how to love someone who is dealing with issues from past relationships:

 

“I however chose to heal alone and become complete and empowered before seeking a new love. The newly divorced me and the three years divorced me are two very different people and I choose different men also. My baggage was quite a weight to carry, but has made me stronger and I’m more skilled in moving through my life with it. I dont think I would be as adept had I dove into seeking assistance with it.”

 

In some respects, I completely agree with her. I was also significantly altered by my divorce and my interests and attractions changed as a result. I also fully support the idea that it is important to address your trauma and that it is necessary to be whole and happy on your own before you’re even ready to contemplate the idea of a new relationship. And, contrary to how she seems to view my situation, I certainly don’t support diving into a new relationship with the goal of being “saved.”

 

But from there, our opinions diverge.

 

It is not possible to completely heal alone.

Yes, you can learn how to be okay on your own. You can address any triggers or trauma that intrude upon your single life.

But as soon as a relationship enters the picture, new issues, related to the past, will emerge that were unnoticed while alone.

And you learn and adapt.

And then the relationship moves to another level, requiring additional vulnerability and trust. And again, the past will whisper.

So you learn and adapt again.

 

Healing is much more about experiences than time. And some of those experiences can only be done with another.

 

I find that each “first…since” is another trigger potential and another opportunity for healing –

The first time living with a man since my ex.

The first time trusting someone since my ex.

The first time buying a house since my ex.

The first basement-finishing project since my ex.

The first (and last!) time marrying since my ex.

And, soon, the first cruise since my ex (yippee!!!).

 

None of those are a sign that I am not healed enough to be in a relationship again. They are simply a sign that the past left its footprints on my heart.

And just like steps, they have to be taken one at a time.

 

 

How to Love And Be Loved After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve always hated the term “baggage.”

 

It implies that that some people are more trouble than they’re worth because of what has happened in their pasts. That those of us who have had the misfortune of cheating exes or tumultuous divorces are somehow doomed by our experiences. It assumes that our histories are our destinies and that we carry our traumas like an anchor around the neck.

 

Yet the dismissive term of “baggage” ignores the fact that those who have experienced relationship trauma can often make wonderful partners that are more attuned and adept at monitoring and using emotions. That rather than just “getting over it,” many choose to “learn from it,” becoming better and stronger than ever before.

 

Life is not about what happened to us. It’s about how we choose to respond to what happens.

It’s not the baggage that matters. It’s all in how you carry it.

 

My now-husband had every right to run when he first heard my story. At the time we met, I was at the tail end of a very difficult divorce and taking the first shaky steps into my new life. I was no longer shock raw from my ex’s abandonment and betrayals, but I was nowhere near healed. Triggers would lie in wait, ready to pounce when I least expected it. I was overly sensitive in some areas and still numb in others. I wanted to be healed and was making active progress, but the finish line was still far in the distance.

 

And yet even with all of that, my now-husband didn’t run.

 

Instead, he helped me find my way to healed. He didn’t take the steps for me, but he cheered me. Pushed me. Rendered aide when needed. And waited patiently while I journeyed the course.

 

If you are in a partnership with someone who is still healing from a past relationship, you need to know the following:

Read read the rest on The Good Men Project.

Trigger Points

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Collage of several of Gray's muscle pictures, ...

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Not surprisingly, most of my triggers have to do with fear of abandonment or betrayal. These are the ones that petrified me in the early months as their intensity would take me back to the moment I learned that my life as I knew what over, curled on the floor in a fetal position around my phone.

As with physical trigger points, emotional ones also improve with time. My trigger points are fewer and further between and the response is somewhat muted.

But time is not enough.

My triggers have the potential to be a source of tension in my current relationship. It’s not unheard of for Brock to commit a level 1 offense on the Relational Transgression Scale (RTS) and for me to respond as though it is a level 10 misdeed. That’s not fair to him or our partnership, nor do I want to respond in that way.

Aware of the potential damaging nature of my triggers, Brock and I agreed early on in our relationship that I would make a concerted effort to neutralize them as much as possible. These are the strategies that I found useful:

Awareness: The first step was for me to become aware of my triggers, especially when the pain and reaction was referred to a different area. I learned that when I reacted strongly to something, it would behoove me to look deeper to see if my response was actually due to something in my past. Often it was.

Avoidance: Avoidance has its place. In the early months, I simply could not handle certain known triggers. I gave them wide berth until I was strong enough to face them.

Preemptive Strike: Now, when I am going to encounter a known trigger, I work to calm myself ahead of time. Some exercise, meditation and a reminder of my gratitude for my current life go a long way to preventing an overreaction.

Layer: I have reclaimed certain triggers by intentionally layering new and happy memories over top. The old pain is still there, but it muffled by smiles.

Plan: I also have backup plans for those times when the triggers do strike. I am better at stepping back. I remind myself to breath. I know that a long run will help to dissipate the pain and allow me to think again.

Trigger points are difficult to treat. If you try to force them to relax, they will grip and the pain will intensify. The mind almost has a fear of letting go of those painful nodules; it seems as though it works to protect them, those memories of our trauma. Be patient and apply gentle, yet persistent pressure at the point of the pain. Breathe into the tightness and give it permission to fade. The past will be there. The pain will never be forgotten. But you do not have to allow it to keep you bound in agony.

Baggage

Posted on by stilllearning2b