After Divorce: It DOES Get Better

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Just the other day, somebody contacted me who is in the early months of an unwanted divorce.

After responding to the specifics of their situation, I ended with, “It DOES get better.”

They responded, “Everybody keeps telling me that.”

 

This is one of those phrases that can seem like a pat response in the moment, akin to “Everything happens for a reason” or “You aren’t given more than you can handle.” It can feel like a hollow promise, words that skip like rocks on a pond right over the depths of the pain you feel today only to sink deep into your gut.

I can’t speak for the others that offer up this hope. But I can explain where I come from. When I hear about somebody’s suffering after divorce, betrayal or abandonment, I travel back to my own experience with it. I don’t simply read or listen to the words, I feel them. I embody that place again. And that space, that pitch-black room, that was once so familiar, now lives so far away from my day-to-day experience.

Because with time, effort, and patience. it DID get better.

It’s important to understand (and accept) that getting better doesn’t mean it’s like it never happened. Instead, it’s more like the pearl formed around a grain of sand. The irritant remains, but you learn how to live around it. Getting better is a combination of many factors, some within your control and others that simply are.

Here are some of the factors that contribute to it getting better –

 

The Rawness Fades

Think back to a time when you abruptly lost a tooth in childhood. At first, the newly exposed nerves were raw and shocky. The gap that once housed a tooth felt alien and your tongue kept worrying over the wound. Yet by the next day, the gums had begun to heal and the nerves were no longer so sensitive. Before long, the hole simply became part of the normal topography of your mouth.

It’s much the same with betrayal or unwanted divorce. At first, you’re raw. Exposed. Shocky. But that state doesn’t last. The wound is still there, but the pain is no longer quite so sharp and unsettling.

 

You Adapt to the New Reality

On a cold, blustery day, the last thing you want to do is leave the known warmth of the house to head out into the frigid air for a walk. And sure enough, those first few blocks are brutal as the wind steals your breath and you feel the warmth being pulled from your bones. But stay with it and the air no longer feels quite so cold as your body begins to acclimate to its new surroundings.

It’s amazing how much pain and discomfort is caused by change. We fight against it and desperately grip onto what was. Yet once we settle in and take a deep breath, we begin to adapt to the new reality. As with the winter’s day, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s hospitable (at least not yet), but at least it’s a known entity.

After Divorce: Is This Your New Normal?

 

Time Softens and Blurs

When a sharp and pointed stone first finds its way into a stream, it maintains its jagged and cutting edges. Over time, the relentless passing of the water begins to smooth the surface, softening the edges.

Time does not erase, but it does blur. Those memories that right now play against your mind as clearly as a movie on the big screen will eventually be like the flickering image of an old Star Wars hologram. More importantly, time allows for opportunity to process what has happened and to layer new memories on top of the old.

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

You Fill in the Voids

From Displacement:

I was enjoying a bath the other day. The hot water filling the tub to the brim, my body submerged except for my hands holding a book and my face peeking out from the suds. I was relaxed. Content.

I heard Tiger begin to dance on the wood floors below as the garage door rumbled open.

That was soon followed by Brock’s voice, “Where’s mama?” he asked Tiger as both man and dog bounded up the steps.

“That looks good,” he said, slipping off his clothes and sliding behind me in the tub. For the next few minutes, we talked about our days  with the sound of the water draining through the overflow in the background. Eventually, the sound of the escaping water stopped as equilibrium was reached once again. The volume of the water replaced with an equal volume of Brock.

We stayed that way for some time, enjoying the company and the warm water.

He exited the tub before me, stepping out while simultaneously grabbing a towel.

The change in the bath was shocking. The water that had once covered my entire body now didn’t even make it around my hips. The once-full bath had been reduced to a few inches of tepid water.

In the beginning, your life is like that empty tub, cold and barren. What is lost is painfully apparent because it leaves a void behind. But then you make a new friend. Take on a new project at work. Help your child tackle a new challenge or take one on yourself. And slowly, those voids are filled in.

Five Healthy Ways to Fill the Void After Divorce (and What to Look Out For)

 

Other Things Happen

Two years ago, we suffered the sudden and traumatic loss of our beloved dog, Tiger. And yesterday, we celebrated the one-year anniversary of Emma’s “gotcha day.” Even as we still mourn the loss of Tiger, we love and enjoy the two pups that now share our lives.

Because that’s how life works – no matter how great the losses, it goes on. And as it does, those losses become part of the mosaic.

 

You Weave a Narrative Around the Situation

Early humans watched the sun and moon march across the sky. As they had no way to gather any factual understanding of what was happening, they created a story, believing that the daily lives of the gods were involved in this routine.

As humans, we crave understanding and feel a sense of discomfort and unease when we don’t see how something fits in to our larger worldview. We worry at it, obsess over it. At first, betrayal or unwanted divorce is a huge foreign object that plummeted from the sky, crushing your white picket fence. It makes no sense. Until you do the internal work of crafting a narrative and creating some sense. Once that happens, it no longer requires our attention and so we can begin to relax.

 

Some Memories Are Filed Away

I have a box in my attic that is filled with all the legal and emotional detritus from my first marriage. I feel like I have to keep it “just in case,” but I don’t need need it front and center. Instead, it’s sealed and tucked away in a safe place.

At first, your memories feel out of your control, slamming you at random moments and flooding your system with emotion. At some point, you may find that there are some memories that are simply too painful (and pointless) to keep handy. And so you tuck them away.

 

All of the “Firsts” Are Experienced

Watch any family with a new baby and you will appreciate the power of “firsts.” The first step. The first tooth. The first word. Do you when the second word was spoken? How about the tenth? Or the hundredth?

After divorce, you will several years of “firsts.” The first night alone. The first anniversary of your wedding day. The first holiday without your spouse. The first major purchase without your former partner. The first family event. And those firsts are powerful. The seconds or thirds? Not so much.

 

You Return to Your Happiness Set Point

Take a cup of water. Put it in the microwave for three minutes. The water responds with an increase in energy, coming to a boil. Leave the cup on the counter for a minute and soon the water will return to its standard state.

We are no different when it comes to our emotional states. Research has shown that we all have a happiness set point. And that major life events (either positive or negative) certainly disrupt our happiness for a time, but that we eventually settle back into our standard state.

 

The Emotional Response Lessens

Several years ago, my car fishtailed on the interstate after encountering a patch of black ice. By the time I made it home, I was a trembling and sobbing mess. For months, every time I drove that patch of road, I would feel an echo of that earlier panic deep in my chest. I practiced saying, “You’re okay. You’re safe.” with each new passing. Finally, with enough repetitions, my brain decided to believe me.

Our brains are malleable. We can learn to uncouple the emotional response from the memory. You can get to a point where you simply just don’t care as much. You remember, but you no longer have the physical response to those thoughts.

Memories Do Not Have to Equal Suffering

 

Gratitude is Uncovered

Have you ever fallen ill and been secretly thankful for the bug that forced you to slow down and take a few days to rest?

If you look hard enough and with an open mind, you can find something to be grateful for in every situation. It does’t sugarcoat the pain, but it helps to remind you that life is more than pain if we’re willing to see it.

 

Purpose is Created

This is the ultimate. If you can find this, a way to see your rock bottom as a foundation, life will be better. You cannot alter the past, but you CAN decide what you’re going to do with it. You can choose to see it as an impenetrable obstacle.

Or you can view it as opportunity.

 

From The Evolution of Suffering:

In the beginning, I embodied the pain.

It was thick, viscous. Its foulness touching every part of my being until I no longer knew where I ended and the suffering began. I could no more escape its malevolent embrace than I could pull peanut butter from a child’s hair. We were one, the suffering and I. My anguish kept it fed and in return, it kept me company. I may not have had my marriage but I had the suffering that was left behind.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the anguish started to fade. The loss grew more distant and hope grew ever closer. Starved of its preferred sustenance, the suffering started to wither. Its suffocating heft grew to more manageable dimensions and its once viscous nature grew thinner. Weaker.

I felt the pain.

I would have moments, even days, where the suffering was unseen. But its absence was always short-lived and my brain had a trigger-finger that would herald its return at the slightest provocation. My body held the memories like the discs in a juke-box, ready to play with the touch of a button. As long as I didn’t approach, I was okay. But as soon as I recounted the tale, my voice would tremble and the pain would come rushing back as though it had been lying in wait.

And so I kept telling the story. And with each retelling, the heartache faded a little more. And the suffering grew weaker. My once constant companion became like a distant friend – we may keep in touch on Facebook, but we have no real need for face to face.

I remembered the pain.

And yet I kept living. I would revisit earlier writings or conversations and marvel at the emotions I carried. I would reflect back on those endless nights and my emaciated and shaking frame. I could speak of the suffering, but only in the past tense, for it no longer touched my soul.

Unencumbered, I learned how to trust again. How to love again. How to be vulnerable again. I learned to tell the story without emotion. Because it didn’t happen to the Lisa of today. It happened to the Lisa of yesterday. And I no longer recognize her.

I appreciated the pain.

Not for the suffering it provided, but for the lessons hidden within. It is a path I would have never chosen, yet it has led to more glorious pastures than I could have ever envisioned.

If you carry it too long, suffering will weigh you down and seek to asphyxiate you with its heft. But carry it long enough, and that weight makes you stronger. Lighter. Better for the experience.

Everything changes.

Even suffering.

 

It DOES get better. Stay with it.

10 Ways Your Divorce Makes You Even Better Than Before

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I don’t think anyone ever responds to the childhood question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” with “Divorced.” Yet, for many of us, the end of a marriage does become part of our life story. I know I don’t have to point out the downsides of divorce to you; after all, they have a way of speaking for themselves.

But what about the upsides? What about the ways that your divorce, even if it was of the unwanted or malignant variety, has made you better than before?

Because whether you realize it or not, divorce (like many other life challenges) has changed you. Shaped you. Strengthened you.

Its harsh grit has left you polished. Its demands have made you grow. And the pain has left its mark. You aren’t the same person you were before. You’re better.

Read the rest at The Good Men Project and join the conversation!

Ten Ways Your Divorce Makes You Better Than Before

Posted on by stilllearning2b
divorce better

I don’t think anyone ever responds to the childhood question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” with “Divorced.” Yet, for many of us, the end of a marriage does become part of our life story. I know I don’t have to point out the downsides of divorce to you; after all, they have a way of speaking for themselves.

But what about the upsides? What about the ways that your divorce, even if it was of the unwanted or malignant variety, has made you better than before?

Because whether you realize it or not, divorce (like many other life challenges) has changed you. Shaped you. Strengthened you.

Its harsh grit has left you polished. Its demands have made you grow. And the pain has left its mark.

You aren’t the same person you were before. You’re better.

Maturity

You may have to be a legal adult to get married, but there are no tests for maturity before we pledge our lives wed to another. And in many cases, we enter our first marriages still children in many ways. Perhaps we placed too much faith in the idea of soul mates and happily ever after. Maybe we didn’t fully appreciate the effort that marriage requires. And possibly we still carried childhood wounds and patterns into our marriages rather than assuming adult responsibility for our own responses.

Divorce is like a drill sergeant yelling, “Grow up!” into your tear-streamed face. It leaves no room for childhood fantasies and overdependence on others. It requires that you put on your big-girl panties or big-boy briefs. Maybe for the first time in your life.

Confidence

In the beginning, divorce saps your confidence. You may be feeling defeated because you couldn’t hold your marriage together. If an affair was part of your divorce story, you’re wondering what the new partner had that you do not. And once you face the dating scene again, yet older and saggier than before, your self-doubt grows.

However, that’s only part of the story.

Because whenever you successfully complete something that you thought you could not do, you gain confidence. Whenever you have to reframe your assumptions about your weaknesses and limitations, you fuel belief in yourself. Whenever you face your fears and survive, you acquire strength. And whenever you come through a struggle bruised and battered yet without giving up, you build trust in your abilities. And divorce certainly provides these opportunities in spades.

Perspective

The only way to truly understand something is to first walk through it and then step back and look upon it from a distance. There’s a reason that some of the best marriage advice comes from people who have been divorced – they know the beginning, the middle and what can lead to end in a way that those only speaking from within cannot fathom.

As time goes on, and your divorce moves further back in the rearview mirror, you will be able to see patterns less clouded by emotion and cluttering detail. That perspective gives you information that you can use to change your own behaviors and to improve your future relationships.

Continue to read the rest.

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Timeline of a Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
timeline divorce

I hesitated to share this. Not because it’s private. Or controversial. But I’m afraid people will misinterpret it as an absolute.

And if there’s one universal truth about divorce, it’s that there are no absolutes.

I’m sharing this because I see a need. A void. People reaching out and wondering if their feelings are okay for the place they’re in. We all want to know that we’re “normal” and we seek reassurances that we are while silently worrying that we’re not.

But worrying about if your feelings are normal doesn’t help you feel better.

In fact, it makes you feel worse.

Your feelings are what they at this moment.

And that’s okay.

And it’s also okay to want them to be different and then to work towards making them different (notice the intent is paired with action!).

 

I am sharing the rough outline of my emotions and mindset at different periods throughout and after my divorce. Please do not use this as a ruler to measure your own progress. Just because I reached a certain benchmark at month eight doesn’t mean you should too. In fact, ban the word “should” from your mind as you read this. What I hope you get from this timeline is an idea of how healing comes in slowly, even as you’re living. I want you to find comfort in the fact that it’s okay to still struggle after X amount of time has passed. My wish is that you don’t feel alone and that you have faith that you will be healed one day.

Also, keep in mind that all divorces are different. All of us have different coping skills and support systems. A divorce is not an isolated event; your entire life and genetic make-up come into play as you move on.

My Healing From Divorce Timeline

1 Day : I don’t think I felt anything other than shock and confusion at that point. My body rebelled along with my brain. Thoughts were not coherent or organized.

2 Days: I had two main emotions on the second day. First, I was scared. I came to the understanding that he was gone for good and I learned that my money was gone too. I was worried about my basic physical needs and concerned about what would happen to the dogs. I also started to get angry – disorganized anger, but frighteningly powerful.

3 Days: This is when the tears hit. Although “tears” doesn’t begin to describe it; they were great, wracking sobs that left me weak and drained. The dogs were concerned.

1 Week: I started making plans. I had a divorce attorney. I moved into a friend’s spare bedroom. The hunt for new homes for the dogs had begun. I alternated between paralyzing sadness and savage anger. I still had not slept or eaten more than a few bites. I had lost almost 20 pounds.

2 Weeks: I finally accepted that I could not do this on my own. I got on medication to help with the sleeping and eating. I started journaling at this time; the early entries are difficult to read. By this point, I had just learned of the bigamy and the energy spent with the police and criminal justice system was a welcome diversion.

1 Month: The new school year had started and work was a nice distraction. Plus, it was helpful to have the support of my teammates. At this point I had okay moments within bad days. Some days I wondered if I would make it out alive. I started to be scared that I would never be able to love or trust again. My friends took me out for a birthday dinner with a homemade gluten free cake. I cried tears of joy.

2 Months: My new life had a rhythm by this point. I drove the long way to my new P.O. box so that I could avoid seeing my old neighborhood. I spent my evenings at the gym so that I wouldn’t be alone in my room. The meds held the nights at bay; I passed out cold within minutes of my pills and slept through everything. But I had no help through the days. And they were hard. I still felt zombie-like much of the time and I was very sensitive to triggers from the past.

3 Months: My fingers would still try to text my ex when I saw something he would enjoy. I had to fight to talk about him in the past tense. I wished he had passed. For real. The drama of the bigamy had begun to fade along with its distraction. I found other ways to try to avoid feeling too much. I was afraid to face the pain. I went on my first date. Distraction. When I kissed him, I felt like I was cheating.

4 Months: I attended a three-day personal yoga and mediation retreat. I forced myself to slow down and feel. I didn’t die. I took a full breath for the first time since the text. I didn’t feel better but I started to believe that one day I would feel better. I didn’t yet love or trust but I met someone who gave me hope that one day I could. I felt the need to talk about what happened. With everyone. Sorry, guys. Of course, it helped that the story was entertaining and shocking!

5 Months: I still carried his mug shot in my purse to remind myself that this was real. I was focused on the legal proceedings and convinced that I needed favorable outcomes to be okay. It never clicked that I was placing my well-being in the laps of the law. Not smart. The tears came less frequently but the anger over the unfairness of it all would blind me with rage. I still avoided triggers but I also started to intentionally layer memories, visiting old haunts with new people.

6 Months: I signed up for Match.com, not with the intention of meeting someone but with the hope that I would learn how to date. I think I was motivated by the passing of what was supposed to be our 10 year anniversary. I “celebrated” with a Xanax and a psychiatrist’s appointment. I grew tired and weary of the never-ending legal nightmare and his continued attacks.

8 Months: The divorce was finalized. I didn’t recognize him in the courtroom hallway. Tears streamed silently down my cheeks as I stared at him in the courtroom. I was hopeful that the decree would be followed (after the criminal case turned out to be a joke) and I thought that I would feel significantly more healed after the decree was in hand. I was wrong. I stopped taking the meds (under doctor supervision) over the next several weeks. The mug shot and all the divorce paperwork got thrown into a big plastic tub. I closed the lid.

1 Year: I also had high hopes for this landmark. Too high. I was better than 11 months earlier, but I still had a long way to go. I had many good days, but I still carried that anger closely. Too closely. I moved into my own place after making the decision to stay in Atlanta to be near one of those guys I wasn’t supposed to meet through Match. I threw myself into my new home, my new relationship and my new job. I already spoke of my “former” life, but I still carried dangerous remnants inside.

2 Years: I moved in with the Match guy and brought some triggers with me. Learning to trust again was a challenging job. I no longer shared my story with everyone and I could tell it without tears, although the telltale signs of stress were apparent in my body. I learned to drive by my old neighborhood, although it was still difficult. Little financial time bombs kept landing and each one threw me back to square one. But I was getting better at getting out.

3 Years: I was secure in my new life. I had built much of what I had dreamed of. I wrote the book. There were many tears; I felt sad for the woman I was writing about but I already didn’t feel as though she were me or I was her. My story was making the rounds on TV and online. I was surprised and elated when I found out from Jeff Probst that there was a felony warrant out for my ex. I still wanted him punished. I had to start making payments on a credit card he maxed out. I felt sick every time I made a payment. I softened that with a note of gratitude every month.

4 Years: I was living at the intersection of divorced and engaged. I felt excited for my future and anxious and triggered about an upcoming home purchase (those damn triggers again). I saw my ex. I didn’t die and I didn’t kill him. I drove by my old neighborhood without a thought. I still dreaded anniversaries.

5 Years: I feel good. Damn good. The trauma is still part of my story and I can’t assume that it will never rear its ugly head again. But I feel stronger and more capable of dealing with it now.