The Most Difficult Part of a Second Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of the most difficult aspects of a second marriage is not inviting your first spouse into the union.

Not literally, unless you’re into that sort of thing and you have a California king filling your master bedroom, but emotionally. My ex-husband committed literal bigamy. I have been guilty in my new marriage of practicing emotional bigamy, of listening to the past and allowing its whispers to drive my responses in the present.

Early last fall, my new husband and I purchased a home. From the beginning, he expressed an interest in converting the partial basement to a small home theater. His intention? A space for us to enjoy together and share with friends. My reaction? Complete and utter panic. Rational? Not in the least. But based on experience and rooted in fear. Click here to read the rest.

Turn Away

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I frequently come across posts or emails written by people in the early aftermath of infidelity. The writings are often angry. Powerfully so, the words slashing across the screen like a serrated blade. You can feel the power, the fury. Each sentence an explosion of outrage towards the unfaithful partner, the affair partner and even circumstances in general.

When I encounter these posts, I want to turn my head in horror.

Not because of the writer.

But because of myself.

I recognize myself in those outbursts, those paragraphs of wrath-tinged keening.

I recollect responding in that same manner. With that same rage blinding my sight and deafening my ears.

I identify with the deep upswell of anger formed by betrayal and a sense of unfairness.

And I want to turn away.

I don’t want to remember that part of myself.

I don’t want to perhaps catch a glimpse of residual fury tucked away.

I don’t want to admit the power that anger held over me.

I see those posts and I remember my early journals, the pen digging deep trenches into the paper, pretending it was gouging flesh from his face. All I wanted to do was to lash out, to make him experience just a fraction of the pain he had inflicted upon me. It was ugly. And it made me ugly.

And I don’t like to face that, to remember the vileness of the anger, any potential for compassion forced out by blind indignation. I don’t like admitting that I wanted to respond to my pain by creating pain in someone else.

And so I want to turn my head. To deny that I once felt that same way.

But that’s becoming what I promised I wouldn’t – someone who writes about divorce only from the scrubbed and polished perspective of the other side.

I want to turn my head in horror.

 

But that’s not honest.

The horror is real.

The anger is real.

And facing it is the only way to lessen its grip.

So I read. And I remember. And I try to reach out.

Because anger is simply pain screaming to be heard.

Snipe Hunt

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It was a snipe hunt.

I didn’t realize it at the time.

In fact, I didn’t even realize he was searching for something.

I just saw them as simple transactions.

$40 for a shirt here.

$200 for a new phone there.

But he wasn’t looking for a new wardrobe or a new phone.

Not really.

What he was looking for didn’t exist, at least not in material form.

But he didn’t realize that either.

He was on a snipe hunt for happiness.

 

I’m often questioned about my assertion that they were not obvious signs of my ex husband’s deceptions. There weren’t in the moment. But time has a way of revealing connections and indications, of washing away the clutter and revealing the patterns beneath.

And this is one of those cases.

My ex never expressed discontentment. He never claimed unhappiness or a lack of self-worth. Yet, when I look back, I can see that his patterns slowly changed over time. There was an insatiability that developed, an ever-growing need to fill a void. An endless search, each purchase seeming to send a message of position and power. It was subtle, at least until the end, but there was an energy to it. A drive. A need to be filled.

It was a snipe hunt for happiness. He was looking outside for something that can only come from within. He was distracted by the mythical beast he sought, ignoring the calls for help from within.  He gathered possessions like a magpie enamoured of shiny objects, as though the gilded gadgets would reflect light back into his soul.

And that was a sign. Not only of his unhappiness, but also of his approach. He was a man who looked for the easy road. He would rather move houses to gain a greener pasture than water the one where he stood. He would rather discard a wife and a life where he made mistakes than to work to correct his errors and omissions. He was a man afraid of looking inward, preferring instead to focus on an imaginary hunt. He believed that solutions could be found if he only searched hard enough.

 

It was a sign. His snipe hunt for happiness.

And, like all snipe hunts, it was all pretend.

In this case, an act of a man desperate to find peace.

And he looked everywhere but where it could actually be found.

Within.

 

We can learn from him.

We all have a tendency to engage in snipe hunts for happiness – material goods, dating to distraction, food and alcohol. Learn your patterns. What are the early signs of your own snipe hunt for contentment? For peace? Recognize that you are searching for something that cannot be found in the outside world.

And look within.

The Upside of Betrayal

Posted on by stilllearning2b
betrayal

No one needs to tell you that betrayal sucks. It’s a piercing pain formed from grief, anger and confusion. It steals your ability to trust, both in yourself and others. It calls everything into question and provides no easy answers.

There is no refuting the fact that betrayal is horrific. Only the sadistic would choose to go there and most that stumble into its path want nothing more than to be free of its grasp.

But turn that betrayal over, look to see what lies underneath.

There are some upsides to betrayal.

In the beginning, these assets are hidden behind the overwhelming pain. But they are still there, just waiting to be found as the mud and grime of the betrayal is washed away by time and tears. Some of these blessings are more easily harvested than others. See what you can find underneath your suffering.

Empathy

When we are not experiencing pain ourselves, it can be difficult to empathize with those who are within its grasp. Betrayal is lingering pain, not easily forgotten. As a result, you may find that you are more understanding and gentle with those around you who are suffering. You can use that ability as a gift – help those that are in pain and your pain will recede.

Self-Reliance

Before the betrayal, you probably saw you and your partner as a team and you looked to him or her to take care of certain things. There is nothing wrong with a team approach, but a long relationship can slide into over-dependence. When you are betrayed, your trust in others is shattered, so you turn to yourself. You may be surprised at what you’re capable of when the “I can’ts” are replaced with the “I have tos.”

Responsibility

This pairs with self-reliance. When you have been betrayed, the first instinct is often to lash out at your partner, laying all of the blame at his or her feet. If you’re honest with yourself, after that initial anger is bled, you will also shine the light inwards. Not to blame, but to understand and take responsibility. You realize that you can never control another’s actions but that you can always control your response. You learn that you are ultimately responsible for your own happiness and well-being. It can feel like a great burden at first. But then you realize the freedom. You always have a choice.

Clarity

If your partner resorted to gaslighting, story telling designed to make you feel crazy for questioning signs, the realization of betrayal can almost come as a relief. The “off” feeling or constant self-doubting is put to an end as the truth is finally revealed. Even with gaslighting, there a lucidity to be found. Often the betrayed have been unable to see the truth, turning towards some facts and away from others. The revelation of betrayal is like putting the last piece in a puzzle; the bigger picture is revealed.

Connection

Some find that betrayal ultimately strengthens their marriage, the pain leading to more open and honest communication. Betrayal deals a death blow to other relationships, one or both partners unwilling or unable to address the underlying issues. Regardless of the specifics, the betrayed often form deeper and more meaningful connections with someone in their lives. The time after betrayal is characterized by a loss of trust but also an increase in vulnerability. If someone can gain or hold your trust (a friend, a family member, or even your partner), you are unencumbered by many of the defenses that keep people at arm’s length. Those connections that are formed are priceless and can help you learn to trust again.

Confidence

This is one of those deeply hidden gifts. At first, your confidence will most likely take a huge blow. You wonder what is so ugly or deficient about you that your partner chose another. You question yourself endlessly, berating yourself for being a trusting fool. Stop that insulting dialog for a moment. Think about your strengths. Your aptitudes. Think about how you are a survivor and you are making it through. Think about it and believe it. You CAN do this. You CAN move forward. You CAN trust again. You CAN love again. Think about it and believe it.

Acceptance

This is the ultimate upside. You cannot change the past. You cannot change your partner. You can cease the winless struggle of trying to make things not as they are. That’s your starting point. And where it leads is up to you.

I Was Wrong

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

When we were house hunting last summer, Brock expressed his lifelong dream of converting a basement into a theater. I responded with my not-a-lifelong fear of basements.

No, really. Read this.

As the house hunt became a home reality, this became a source of tension as he was responding with excitement about the proposed entertainment room and I was countering with trepidation.

That damned basement in my old life has almost a personified flavor of evil in my mind. It contained the molted skins of the man I loved as he morphed into some dark creature. It hid his secrets. It protected him as he carried out his nefarious deeds. It swallowed him for ever increasing hours as the marriage sped towards its inevitable and spectacular end. I was living atop a portal to hell.

And I was afraid that another basement might also serve as a conduit of corruption. That my new husband might also fall sway to whatever whispers arise from the blackness beyond the concrete walls. That he would be swallowed and return changed. That a new portal hell would be opened and new demons welcomed in.

But I was wrong.

Completely and spectacularly wrong.

He was largely on his own on this project due to my schedule and my general hesitancy about the undertaking.

And he has done a great job, turning a half-finished grubby former office into a slick and comfortable theater.

A theater for us.

For our friends.

It is not a place to hide.

It is a place to connect.

In fact, even with my stupidly early bedtimes, he rarely goes down there alone.

It wants to keep it special.

And it is.

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier.

The only demons in this space are imagined on the screen. And those can only hurt me if I allow them to.