Feeling Alone in a Relationship

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Many memories of my first marriage have faded over time. But there are some that are still as sharp and pointed as the day they occurred. This is one of those.

We sat in the 4th row in the left section of the movie theater. I was in the aisle seat and he was next to me. Prior to the movie, we had gone out to dinner at our version of “Cheers,” and like usual for us, had a great time without any discord or tension.

About twenty minutes into the movie, I looked over at his profile, the light from the film alternately revealing and highlighting the curve of his face. And even though he was inches away, even though we had not fought in any way, and even though he had hugged me while we waited in line to purchase the tickets, I felt like there was an impassable distance between us.

I looked around the theater and could sense the connections between the other patrons, like a web of string mapping out the relationships and bonds. And no string mapped to me. I wondered if it was noticeable to those around me. Could they sense the disconnection?

I felt alone.

Silent tears starting welling up in my eyes as I kept stealing glances at my husband. The man who had been my everything for fourteen years at that point. The man I knew better than anyone at that point. And the man that seemed like a stranger sitting uncomfortable close to me that night.

As I silently wept and continued to forgo the movie to try to puzzle through my emotions, he never looked over at me. This on its own was unusual, as he normally was quite affectionate. With the benefit of hindsight, I think he had an idea what I was sensing that night and he was actively working to pretend that it didn’t exist.

And so for an endless two hours, I sat alone with my husband. Feeling invisible.

Once the credits rolled, he smiled at me, squeezed my hand, and made a comment about the movie. He was back to pretending and I was back to believing.

Isn’t it wild how you can sit on a sofa by yourself and feel content, yet feel completely and utterly alone even when your partner occupies the adjacent seat?

That’s because feeling alone has little to do with the person physically by your side and everything to do with trusting that a person will stay by your side.

Sometimes the disconnection is overt, a partner resorting to the silent treatment or actively working to turn away. It’s a rejection. And you’re able to point to the source of the pain.

Other times, it’s more subtle. A feeling like even though you share a home, you’re living two different lives and looking out through two different windows. You’re going through the motions of doing this together, yet instead of feeling like a team, you feel like you only have yourself to count on.

And sometimes it’s situational. For example, grief is a highly personal experience. If the couple has experienced loss, it’s common for them both to feel alone because their partner is not grieving in the same way.

All relationships go through times of connection and times of disconnection. It’s normal to sometimes look at your partner and wonder, “Who even are you?” In healthy marriages, both partners acknowledge the distance and look for roads back to each other. One person can say, “I feel alone,” and the other will respond with, “What can I do to show you that you’re not.”

Feeling alone becomes a problem when it’s chronic, when it’s ignored or when the distance is created and maintained intentionally by one or both parties. And feeling alone can have some huge repercussions as it erodes your self-worth and leaves you with a low-level hum of constant rejection. Your body becomes more prone to illness as your brain begins to attack itself in an attempt to make sense of the emotional isolation.

 

If you’re feeling alone in your relationship, it’s time to look closer –

 

– Is your partner pulling away? Are their energies focused elsewhere?

-Are you the one creating distance? Maybe you want connection but you also fear getting too close and becoming vulnerable.

-Has there been a situation that only one of you is facing and the other has little experience with? Or, has there been a loss and you’re grieving in your own ways?

– Have you brought up how you’re feeling? If so, what was the reaction? Has there been any action (not just words) towards rebuilding connection?

-Are you putting all of your needs on your partner? Are you asking your partner to be something they’re not?

-Do you feel less alone when you’re away from your partner than when you’re with them? If so, that’s a very telling sign.

 

7 Reasons People Withdraw in a Relationship

 

It’s kinda funny isn’t it? How we stay in a relationship past its expiration date because we’re afraid of being alone, yet we tolerate feeling alone while in a relationship? And what’s even crazier that being alone by yourself (once you get over the fear of it) is SO much better than feeling alone while you have a ring on your finger.

 

Who Is This Person? Coming to Terms With Your Ex’s Sudden Coldness

Posted on by stilllearning2b
sudden coldness

We stood in front of the security line of the Atlanta airport. I felt so loved, so safe in the familiar space created between his chest and his arms, listening to his heart beat through his shirt. I teared up a little as I turned away, already missing my husband of sixteen years as soon as the physical contact was broken.

It was supposed to be goodbye for a week.

It turned out to be goodbye forever.

By the next time I saw him, eight months later in the courtroom, he had become a stranger. A forbidding stranger.

In an instant, this man had gone from my protector to my persecutor. My ally to my greatest threat. And instead of professing love, he was waging war.

It was as though a switch had been flipped.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around the seemingly abrupt transformation. Had this malicious man been hiding in my marital bed the entire time? Did he somehow wake up one morning a different person? Or was he always this way and I was finally able to see the truth?

The reality is probably a little bit of all of those.

Self-protection is at the root of behavior.

To begin with, it’s important to remember that at its core, all behaviors are self-protecting. To that end, it made sense for him to play the part of a loving husband while he chose to remain in the picture. This act allowed him to avoid my rage, sadness and disappointment over the reality of his actions.

Once he left, the distance and coldness again protected him from feeling my pain. In essence, by acting as though he didn’t care, he could begin to believe it. A barrier of disassociation. In this view, the switch was flipped more in an effort to prevent pain than in an effort to inflict damage.

For my part, believing in his good-husband routine insulated me from the painful truth during our marriage. I didn’t want to see the deception he was capable of, so I chose to believe in the best of him. And then once he left, a switch was flipped in me. I couldn’t understand how someone I loved (and who I thought loved me) could do those things, so I chose to see him as all-bad. This view, and the distance it provided, served to protect me from further damage to an open heart.

Cognitive dissonance is a powerful force.

Cognitive dissonance happens when somebody’s beliefs about themselves and their behaviors are not in alignment. It is a very uncomfortable position, and so we often strive to change either our actions or our beliefs so that they again line up.

One of the ways that my ex minimized his cognitive dissonance between the conflicting belief of seeing himself as a good person and the action of committing bigamy is by justifying his choices. Over time (and without my knowledge), he had demonized me, both in his mind and to others.This belief then allowed him to act in a cruel and hateful manner towards me while still maintaining his internal integrity.

My own cognitive dissonance was amplified towards the end of the marriage as the belief that my husband was an amazing guy was beginning to be challenged by the cracks in his facade. And then upon the receipt of the text that ended it, the wool was brutally ripped away from my eyes.

And for the first time, I saw him as he was, not as he wanted to be seen.

You can’t see the big picture until all of the pieces have been assembled.

I now believe that the man I married was not the same man I divorced many years later. He changed, significantly and detrimentally, most likely from a combination of addiction and unaddressed childhood trauma.

Yet, even though he was not the cold and calculating man when we wed, that potential was within him. I saw some of the signs and yet I chose to discount them, brush them off as inconsequential.

And it was only later, once he removed his mask and I began to assemble all of the clues, that I could see how it all fit together. Even though the change felt abrupt, it was more a matter of the final piece being slid into place.

Hate is not the opposite of love.

And then there’s this – the opposite of love is not hate. It’s indifference. When we truly don’t care about someone, we don’t expend the energy to make them miserable. When an ex is trying to make your life difficult or attempting to manipulate you, it’s a sign they have not yet let go. And it can also be an indication – albeit an agonizing one – of their own pain.

When you’re facing the brunt of your ex’s coldness and distance, it’s hard to respond with anything but shock, hurt and indignation. Maybe this will help.