The Dark Passenger

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sometimes I wish I could talk to my ex.

Not the man of now, whoever and wherever he is.

Nor the man that sent the text that ended the marriage.

But the man I was married to several years ago.

The man that was sliding on that slippery slope to utter destruction yet still seemed to have a grasp on reality.

I wish I could I talk to him.

And ask him how it felt to split into two.

How it felt to live one life aloud while whispering the other.

How it felt to believe that no one would accept him for who he was.

How it felt to carry the ever-increasing burden of the dark passenger.

Brock and I just finished watching the first season of Dexter last night, a first viewing for him and a second for me. The show had an entirely different meaning for me now.

You see, the first time I watched it, I may as well have been sitting next to Dexter, the friendly serial killer. Now, as far as I know, my ex wasn’t a killer. But I sure see reflections of him in Dexter’s struggles to feed his dark passenger while maintaining a smile. To everyone around him, Dexter is normal with a job, a sister and even a girlfriend. But he is playing pretend. Behind the scenes, Dexter is a killer who, based upon the “code” his father taught him, targets only other killers. The first season focuses on Dexter’s struggles to maintain balance between the two lives and to sustain the illusion that he was just like everyone else.

I wish I talk to my ex and ask him if he related to Dexter at the time.

Did he also feel like he was born from some long-ago tragedy?

Did he feel the drive to satisfy dark urges and keep them under wraps?

Did he also learn to pretend to be normal while viewing himself as anything but?

Was it strange to sit on the sofa next to his unsuspicious wife while watching a similar drama play out on screen?

Or, did he not see himself in Dexter at all, convinced that he was in control of whatever was happening? That somehow he was special. Different.

I wish I could talk to him so that I could understand what initiated his fracture.

So that I could see the bigger picture.

The whole of him rather than just the side he presented.

The man and his dark passenger.

But most of all, I just hope that wherever he is, he has decided that the dark passenger has ridden long enough.

And kicked him to the curb.

I’m sure part of the show’s appeal comes from the ability of all us to relate to Dexter’s dichotomy to some extent. We all have parts of ourselves that we view as dark, even unlovable. We all sometimes feel as though we are pretending, worried that others may see through the act. I believe the lesson in the both the show and in my ex’s life is that the dark passenger only grows more powerful when isolated from the whole person. Accept yourself. Ask for help. And bring some light to the dark.

Will I Ever Trust Again?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
trust betrayal

“Will I ever trust again?” I asked, turning towards my dad in the aftermath of the day the marriage died.

My voice trembled along with the rest of my body, a pleading tone hoping for a positive response.

His eyes teared, he pulled me in for a hug. “I don’t know but I sure hope so.”

It wasn’t the response I wanted, but it was honest. And honest was what I needed.

Over the next weeks and months, I asked that question of my mom, my family, my friends, my journal.

And every response was the same.

“I don’t know.”

How do you recover from betrayal by the person closest to you? How do you move forward without armor so thick that no one will ever make it through? How do you ever put faith in another person after doing so destroyed your world and you in the process?

How do you learn to trust again?

You begin with yourself.

Intimate betrayal is an attack on two fronts. The first wound comes from the one who betrayed you, the piercing pain when you realize that he or she was sliding the blade into your back with every embrace. The second comes from within, as you begin to doubt yourself, your worth and your senses.

And you have to heal them both.

Before you can ever trust another, you have to learn to trust in yourself.

And that begins with trusting your strength to see you through.

If you believe that you are not strong enough to survive something, you will turn away from any indications that speak of impending disaster. The only way you will be receptive to reality is if you know you can handle it. Remember times that you have revealed your strengths. Celebrate those. Create smaller challenges in your life and master them. Write your story and cast yourself as strong and brave. Don’t let your betrayer create your character; you have the power to mold yourself in an image of fortitude and perseverance. Learn to see yourself as a survivor and thriver rather than a victim. You are the phoenix, not the ashes.

You are strong.

You can make it through anything.

Believe it. And it’s true.

And, once you know that you can survive, you’re ready to learn to listen, to see. Not with the fears of the past or the worries of the future, but with the truth of today.

Check in with your gut. If your intuition speaks, listen. Remember, there is nothing it can say that you cannot handle. Be present in your life, check words against actions. Trust that you will be okay even if someone’s actions indicate a problem. When learning to trust another, move slowly, letting out a little rope each time. Watch to see if they hang themselves but also be careful not to do it for them. If you act as though the past is on repeat, it will be replayed. See with the eyes of now, not the pain of yesterday. Sift through your past to find patterns, both in your betrayer and yourself. Learn how to change your responses to interrupt the playbook of the past.

Will you be able to trust again?

Yes.

But it can’t be blind trust, operating on wish alone.

It’s a trust born from strength and intention.

It comes from being present and truthful.

It hopes for the best but does not fear the worst.

It understands that you cannot control another but you can always depend on yourself.

You are strong.

You can be trusted.

Believe in yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lies, Damned Lies and Intent

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I got into a discussion with Recovering WS the other day (you can read the exchange in the comment section of this post) that got me thinking about lies and the motivation behind them. The law distinguishes between murder committed with intent and killings that are unintentional collateral damage to another act. Should we do the same with deception? Does it matter if the lie was intended to protect (either self or others)? Does that make it less morally egregious than a mistruth that is crafted as a piercing barb?

“I always say the truth is best even when we find it unpleasant. Any rat in a sewer can lie. It’s how rats are. It’s what makes them rats. But a human doesn’t run and hide in dark places, because he’s something more. Lying is the most personal act of cowardice there is.”
― Nancy Farmer, The House of the Scorpion

We all lie. To ourselves and to others. We all are guilty of rewriting facts to fill in missing pieces or to alter reality. (See Lose Your Illusion.) But we don’t all lie in the same ways. With the same intent.

Lie to Self

This is probably the most frequent of all the mistruths. Many of these are not even conscious; our brains act to fill in missing information, making assumptions in the process. Or the fallibility of memory covered up with fiction. Others develop over time as we replace more accurate memories with more desired ones, details changing with the years. Some of these are more intentional, lies told to protect the image that we carry of ourselves or of our world.

“The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

Many of these lies to self are harmless. It doesn’t really matter if the fish you caught grows a little longer with each recall or that you see yourself as the best player on the neighborhood basketball team. But these lies can also cause harm, such as when you discount the number of drinks you’ve consumed or conveniently forget to tally up the calories from your dinner date’s plate. Often these lies come from a desire – almost need – to correct cognitive dissonance, a disconnect between our beliefs and incoming evidence. We reconcile the two by altering the truth.

“When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.”
― Scott Lynch, The Republic of Thieves

The stories we tell ourselves create our realities. And when those stories are anchored in falsehoods, our realities aren’t too real. And that can become a problem. Check out Self Deception to read more.

“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The lies we tell ourselves are not all bad. Check out this interesting piece on how editing your life story can aide the healing process. That is basically what I did with my former life by writing and sharing the story. Since the pen is in my hands, I can chose to shape and interpret the past in a way that helps me. Self deception? Probably. But at least it has let me find peace and forgiveness.

Self deception is inescapable, yet its negative incarnation can be limited. Be aware of areas in your life that frighten you and instead of turning a blind eye, look directly at them. That is where your lies to self most likely reside. Trust that you can handle the truth and then face it.

Lie to Protect Self

This is often the first lie perfected by the child, the “I don’t know who ate the cookie!” defense. It can often be an extension of the lies we tell ourselves, as we try to project the image we desire. These are lies born of fear – fear that we will be punished, fear that we will not be loved and accepted, fear that we will be judged. And fear is limiting. These are the lies that shelter the ego, that build a fortress around the broken heart, that form a protective shield around our vulnerable core. Being honest risks the very real threat of being rejected. But lying means that your true self is never really accepted. And, taken to the extreme, it means your true self may be buried beneath an ever-gowing pile of falsehoods.

“Over time, any deception destroys intimacy, and without intimacy couples cannot have true and lasting love.”
― Bonnie Eaker Weil, Financial Infidelity: Seven Steps to Conquering the #1 Relationship Wrecker

Lie to Protect Others

When you do this, even with noble intentions, you are choosing someone else’s truth for them. Whether telling them that they look good in that dress or withholding information that you deem them unable to handle, you have appointed yourself the gatekeeper of their reality. In many ways, this is the lie born of the ego, assuming that you are in the superior position.

“The worst part was that I had things I wanted to tell my mother, too many to count, but none of them would go down so easy. She’d been through too much, between my siters-I could not add to the weight. So instead, I did my best to balance it out, bit by bit, word by word, story by story, even if none of them were true.”
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

Lie to Distract and Cover

This is the preferred language of the addict, although it is my no means limited to those battling addiction. Much like a magician on a stage, these lies are designed to turn the attention away from the action, whether that be a visit to the bar or the arms of another. These are lies born of desperation, deceptions that become increasingly necessary in order to carry out covert actions. The recipients of these lies were not the intended targets but they often become collateral damage.

“When a man is penalized for honesty he learns to lie.”
― Criss Jami, Salomé: In Every Inch In Every Mile

Lie to Harm

This is the one I struggle with understanding. I know this happens. I know there are people that wish to hurt others. But I cannot comprehend the motivation. These lies would be the murder 1 of falsehoods, deliberate and malevolent in intent from the outset.

When I received the text that ended my marriage, I learned that I had been living within a mirage. At first, I saw my ex as the deliberate and vicious creator of that facade. I believed his deceptions were designed to kill. Now? I no longer feel that way. I think he lied to protect me, wanting to shield me from his employment and financial troubles. I believe he lied to cover his ever-growing addiction. I think he lied to avoid detection and the ensuing consequences. I think he lied to himself about the severity of the problems, telling himself that he could still climb out of the deepening hole.

“When people cheat in any arena, they diminish themselves-they threaten their own self-esteem and their relationships with others by undermining the trust they have in their ability to succeed and in their ability to be true.”
― Cheryl Hughes

And, as for myself, I think I was only too happy to believe those lies since the truth was too ugly to bear. I allowed him to create my reality, handing over the reigns of my perceptions.

Once I altered my view of his deceptions, I softened towards him. It let me see him as broken rather than evil. It helped me see myself as collateral damage rather than a victim. Of course, the crazy part? Maybe I’m just lying to myself about his intentions because it fits in better with my reality.

We need falsifications to make the past inhabitable.”
― Frans Kellendonk, Het Complete Werk

Lying is like any another behavior – the more you do it, the more you do it. It becomes a habit. You become fluent in its language, speaking it with ease and little forethought. Lies feed upon fear and doubt and can hold us prisoner if we do not notice the bindings in time. It’s impossible to never be subject to fiction; our brains are wired to tell stories. Just be careful of the stories you tell, both to yourself and to others. Make them tales that you can be proud of.

A lie may take care of the present, but it has no future.  ~Author Unknown

And, in the spirit of Gilda Radner, that’s the truth:)

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Of Horses and Zebras

Posted on by stilllearning2b

There is a common saying in medicine:

When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.

In other words, look for and rule out the common causes of symptoms before you turn to the exotic. That headache is much more likely to be caused from the tension of the day than a malignancy spreading alongside your cortex.

Doctors in training (as well as the layperson who spends too much time on WebMD) are famous for seeing zebra illusions. They hear of these rare and unusual diseases and are convinced that this time, it is the correct diagnosis. For the young doctors, they learn over time that they may see thousands of horses for every one zebra. Their high alert tones down.

But there are problems with the horse philosophy. It is possible to become so focused on believing that every hoofbeat is a horse that you fail to see the zebra in their midst. Famously, until very recently, this often happened with women attack victims. The symptoms mirrored other, more common complaints and they were dismissed before further consideration.

Doctors usually have a systematic way of diagnosing illness. They start with the most common causes of the symptoms at hand, perform tests and ask questions to eliminate some illnesses and include others. Each piece of data is added to the puzzle until the particular horse is named.

Unless it’s a zebra.

The problem with zebras is that once you have seen one, you cannot unsee it. Rationally, you know that just because this hoofbeat was made by a rarity, the next one is still more likely to be the common equine.

You know this. Yet those hoofbeats will never be the same.

Because once they heralded the arrival of a zebra.

We all experience hoofbeats in our relationships, data points of indication. Most of these are benign, evidence of a stressful day or wandering mind, the equivalent of the common tension headache. But sometimes these impressions are an indication of a malignancy within the relationship.

Some people always look for zebras. These are the ones that are always on red alert, searching through emails, calling insistently. They are convinced that the zebra is there, they just have to find it. Some of them go so far as to paint stripes on the common horse. They are as hypochondriac in their marriages as some are with their health.

Others don’t believe in the zebra. They let the sound of hoofbeats wash over them, secure in the knowledge that they come from the harmless pony. They believe that if ever presented with the zebra, that the beast would be so evident as to be impossible to miss. But zebras hide. They blend in with the everyday hoofbeats. You have to watch carefully and look for their distinctive patterns.

Those two approaches, although at odds, originate from the same place.

Fear.

The zebra-spotters are so afraid of the striped one that they are on the hunt. They refuse to be surprised, intent on heading it off before damage is done. Of course, life on the hunt is exhausting when you’re convinced that everything is an attack.

The zebra-blind are also afraid. But instead of going on the offensive, they hide, believing that the zebra cannot find them. But living on the defense is limiting when you’re trying to avoid every potential attack.

There is a place in the middle. A place where hoofbeats are heard. Data is collected. Hypotheses made and tested and either accepted or discarded. A place where the existence of the zebra is acknowledged but not hunted. A place where you trust your ability to spot a zebra among its brethren and you trust that you can survive its approach.

I was once one of the zebra-blind. I trusted that my ex would never introduce zebras into our lives. So I didn’t see them. Of course, it didn’t help that he also knew the powers of disguise, hiding their stripes with plausible stories and Photoshopped documents. When he left, my tears washed the brown paint off the surrounding creatures and I discovered I was living in a world overrun with the striped beasts.

I was trampled.

But alive.

And changed.

Once you’ve seen a zebra, hoofbeats are never the same again.

I hear them.

And I look, without assumptions.

Knowing that they are most likely horses but also realizing that may not be benign.

But also believing that just because I met a zebra once, does not mean that every sound is a sign of impending attack.

When I hear hoofbeats, I think horses, not zebras. But I still look for stripes.

 

 

 

Sides Effects of Betrayal

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When you have been betrayed, your world view forever shifts. Motives are questions. Secrets are assumed. Nothing is as it seems.

You want to trust but you don’t know how. You feel victimized and either accept that role in defeat or desperately search for control and assurance that you will never be a victim again.

It’s oh-so-easy to keep moving beyond the betrayal without fully addressing its impact. To attribute future struggles to something (or someone) else when it is really your soul still keening from the lies and the loss.

When I first saw this article on Psychology Today, When Disappointment Feels Like Betrayal, I was skeptical.

And then I read it.

And I related.

When you have been betrayed, the pump has been primed to assume betrayal.

Even when it is just life with its usual ups and downs.

Be on alert for the monster but don’t go stabbing at every creak on the stairs.