How I Recovered From Spousal Abandonment and Betrayal

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Are you struggling with recovery from abandonment or betrayal?

I wish there was a recipe for healing after the demise of a marriage – add these ingredients, sift out these elements, let the concoction rest for a specified period of time and then apply heat to set it in place. But divorce is not so simple. Not only do cooking times vary, but the ingredients are as diverse as the stories.

So, don’t look at this as a specified and exacting recipe that has to be followed to the letter to create a favorable outcome. Rather, consider these suggestions and feel free to add, subtract or manipulate ingredients to suit your taste and your resources.

These are the steps and strategies I used to find peace with my past, happiness in my present and excitement for my future:

I Believed I Would Be Okay

The reality hit like a cannonball to the gut. My body slid to the floor as my brain attempted to make sense of it all. Even in those early moments, when I had to face the truth that the man I adored had been systematically destroying everything I loved, I believed I would be okay again. I had no idea how I would get there; the future was one big question mark after another, but I held fast to the idea that there would be an “other side” of the hell I was thrust into.

I Asked For and Accepted Help

I was beyond fortunate that my dad was with me when I received the news and that the rest of the family soon rallied to render aid. I composed an email to them that let them know how best they could help.  I set aside my stubborn independence to move in with a friend when she offered her spare room. After declaring that I did not want medication, I listened when others advised it was needed. I went from a leader at school to the cared-for one. And I accepted every offer of help.

accept help divorce

I Surrounded Myself With the Right People

Until I experienced it, I was unaware that sudden spousal abandonment was even a thing. In the early days, I desperately turned to Google for answers and to assure myself that I wasn’t alone. I stumbled upon message boards where shocked and grieving spouses shared their stories of the awful and traumatic ends. After posting my own story, I logged off for good. Although I felt comfort at knowing this had happened to others besides me, I didn’t want to focus on the pain. Instead, I intentionally surrounded myself with the right people – compassionate even though they didn’t understand and positive even though they would bitch along with me.

I Wrote, Posted and Tracked Goals

There was so much I could not control. I couldn’t go back in time and change my choices. I could not alter my ex’s actions. I couldn’t speed up or steer the legal process. So I grabbed on to what I could influence. I wrote and posted twelve goals for the year ahead: everything from running a race (my first) to making two new friends. Some of the goals were multi-faceted and overwhelming (find a new job), whereas others were simple and direct (learn to cook one gluten free meal to excellence). Those goals were all written with healing in mind; they were my stepping stones to happiness and gave me some much-needed control when everything else was insanity.

 

I Embraced Dark Humor

I started making jokes about the situation mere days after it happened. It wasn’t funny. Not really. But it was absurd. And whenever I could choose between laughter and tears, I opted for the former. Of course, they often commingled. Humor was an outlet to vent that was more uplifting than simply complaining or bemoaning. It served as a unifying factor as others joined in on the jokes. Perhaps most importantly, humor was a reminder that you cannot always change a situation, but you can always change the lens you view it through.

I Used Anger as Repellent and Propellent

The primary emotion I felt in those months was rage. I harnessed that anger and used it as fuel. I allowed the anger towards my ex to help me disengage from the man I had entrusted half my life to. I filled the void he left with wrath and I used that anger to keep me moving forward. The anger was ugly, yet without it, I still would have been a crumpled mess on the floor. Eventually, I had to learn how to release the anger once its purpose had been served. That was the difficult part.

I Accepted Responsibility For My Own Well-Being

In the beginning, I wanted my ex to accept the responsibility for his actions and for the fallout. He never did. And eventually I realized that it didn’t matter. I could wait around forever for him to change, or I could take my own happiness by the reigns and accept the responsibility for my own well-being. I shifted my focus from what happened to what I was going to do with it. The abandonment and betrayal were not my fault, but it was my responsibility to ensure that they didn’t capsize me.

I Did What Felt Right Rather Than What I Was “Supposed” to Do

Join a support group. Swear off of men for a year. Move back home. I heard it all. But I did what felt right to me at the time. My decisions may not have always been the best; there are a lot of missteps as you’re learning to navigate a new world, but they were steps of my own choosing. Part of the reason I ended up in that situation was from not listening to my gut. I was determined to not make that mistake again. So I followed my instincts even when they went against the conventional wisdom.

I Replaced Pity With Purpose

It was easy to feel sorry for myself. Easy, but useless. Much like people who have found lasting sobriety through AA, I used writing and sharing to create purpose from the pain. I needed to find a way to balance out the bad with the good. I see it like taken the molten remains and channeling them into a mold to create something new. It didn’t relieve the pain, but it kept it from drowning me.

I Made Fun a Priority

I said “yes” to every invitation. I sought out new experiences. I pared down my “have-tos” to give more precedence to the “want tos.” I filled my calendar with scheduled smiles, intentionally book-ending every upcoming “bad” day with fun days. I didn’t always feel like having fun; I would cry on the way there, but I would rarely cry on the way home. The fun took me out of my head for a few blessed hours. It was a needed reminder that life goes on and that I didn’t have to wait until I was healed to enjoy it.

I Experimented Until I Found the Tools That Worked For Me

I identified my needs – namely, reducing anxiety, finding acceptance and limiting overthinking, and tried different strategies until I found ones that worked for me. After some trial and error, I settled on running for reducing the anxious energy, journaling for processing, meditation for getting out of my head and yoga for finding acceptance. As my needs changed, the tools changes as well.

I Learned to See the Good

At first glance, there was nothing good about the ordeal. So I looked again. And again until I could see the benefits. And then I embraced them. To the point where I am now happy that my life didn’t go as planned.

Grow divorce

I Approached Healing With Laser Focus

I looked at finding peace, acceptance and happiness as the most important job I would ever have. I knew that if I didn’t find a way to heal, not only would it limit me, but the negative energy would also seep into those around me. I set my sights on where I wanted to be and worked to align every thought and action with that goal.

It starts with hope. And it happens with baby steps towards that intention.

 

Not Every Day Is a Good Day. Show Up Anyway.

Posted on by stilllearning2b
bad day

Having a bad day?

My hairdresser is usually an upbeat and positive woman. Her energy pulls me into the moment and her “bright side” approach helps me forget the fact that I seem to have a little more grey to cover every time.

Yesterday was different. Tears teased the corners of her eyes as she detailed all that had happened to her recently. She was valiantly trying to hold it together, but it was like her emotions were winning at tug-of-war, pulling her over the edge.

Finally, as she applied the last of my color, she wiped the corner of her left eye, picked up a curling iron and exclaimed,

“Damn it. I am going to be beautiful today.” 

And she was. I watched as her hair – and her face – transformed while we waited for my color to set. As each new ringlet was formed, her eyes became a little more determined and her expression became a little more hopeful.

It is a fact of life for all of us – bad days will happen.

Some bad days are of the, “I overslept and my car was rear ended on the way to work.” Other bad days fall into the, “I just buried my best friend” category. And in between those, there will be plenty of the, “I’m just not feeling it today” variety.

On those bad days, there is the temptation to crawl back under the covers and wait for the next sunrise to signal a do-over. Our minds feel pulled towards what’s not going right, thinking about it even past the point where thinking is needed. The plummet of our emotions seems as inevitable as a raft in whitewater poised at the top of a waterfall. We yearn to avoid the discomfort and so we try to distract with food, a drink or busyness. And the idea that things can be better is nothing but a distant possibility, so hazy that it seems like the false hope of a mirage.

Not every day is a good day.

Yet even if the chips are down and the tears are frequent, it is still YOUR day.

You can make the decision to show up anyway.

To proclaim, “Damn it. I am going to be present. I am going to persist. I am going to be positive.”

My husband likes to say that loyalty isn’t about being there when things are good; it is about being there when things are bad.

Be faithful to yourself.

Even on the bad days, show up.

And never confuse a bad day for a bad life.

 

At Some Point, It’s No Longer About the Nail

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When is it no longer about what hurt you?

 

In the beginning, I made it all about him.

What he did.

Why he did it.

How he did it.

Where he was.

Who he was.

 

It was an escape of a sort. A distraction. If I stayed focused on him, I didn’t have to think about me.

 

What I was going to do now that my life was washed away.

Why this happened to me.

How I was going to survive and rebuild.

Where I was going to live.

And who I was without him.

 

But at some point, I had to decide to make it all about me. To turn my energies towards what I could change rather than curse what I could not.

Because no matter how much attention I turned towards him, it wasn’t going to help me feel any better.

 

When you first step upon a nail, the sharp steel tearing through tender flesh, it is prudent to focus on the nail. First by removing the offending stake and then by examining it for any signs of rust or fragments left behind.

And then at some point, the nail no longer matters.

Only the wound is of consequence. And your attentions must turn to the ministrations of puncture care, ensuring that it heals fully without infection to poison the blood.

 

A difficult divorce is much the same. Once the distressing person has been removed, focus on them only leaves your wounds unattended.

Because at some point, the nail no longer matters.

Only you do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Learning to Trust Again: How to Deal With the Triggers

Posted on by stilllearning2b
triggers

“Will I ever learn to trust again?” I implored of my dad after receiving the surprise text that my husband had left the marriage and left the state. At that point, I was concerned about learning to trust somebody else after being the victim of horrendous gaslighting and betrayal.

It was only months later that I realized the true concern was not trusting others, rather I needed to know if it was possible to learn to trust myself and my own perceptions again. I kept questioning my responses to situations, wondering if I was listening to my intuition or overreacting because the circumstances triggered memories created by the earlier trauma.

Determined not be deceived again, I started paying more attention to my emotions and gut reactions to a situation. However, I was also aware that my emotions were not always rational and were prone to sending out false alarms since they were still raw from the betrayal. Before giving credence to my emotional responses, I learned to ask myself the following questions to determine if they were a reaction to something in the present moment or if they were simply an emotional echo from the past:

Is my response disproportionate to the situation?

It was just a silly argument over a coffeepot with my now-husband in our early days of dating. But my body saw it as life or death. I don’t even remember the details, but I do remember that the intensity of my response scared me. My body felt as though electricity was coursing through my vessels, charging my limbs so that I was prepared to fight or flee.

In reality, there was no danger. Not only was I physically safe, but this event did not even register on the relationship threat scale. My overreaction had nothing at all to do with the present moment and everything to do with the trauma in my past.

Am I experiencing a sense of déjà vu?

Shortly before our wedding, my now-husband detailed to me his plans for turning the basement into a home theater. As he was going over the floorplan and the modifications that would be needed, I was transported to a similar discussion with my first husband when he decided to build himself an office in the basement. An office that soon became the headquarters for his deceptions.

The whole time the basement theater was taking shape, I felt like I was occupying two locations in time and space. As much as I tried to stay present with the excitement of the theater, my fears kept pulling me back to the moment when I discovered the extent of my first husband’s lies hidden within his below-ground office.

 

Am I feeling like I’m out of control? 

When I discovered that my first husband had been living a double life and, by extension, I had been living a fabricated one, I entered free fall. It’s a disorienting feeling to realize that you’ve been manipulated for so long. When I’m triggered, my thoughts begin to spiral out of control. My mind will race from one thing to the next and it’s like the air has been bled from my normal self-soothing pathways.

I’ve learned that this out-of-body reaction only occurs when something takes me back to those early moments of utter and complete panic. When I’m responding to something solely anchored in the present day, my feet remain firmly anchored on the ground and I feel in control of my emotions and my responses.

 

 

Am I reaching premature conclusions?

Perhaps in a desperate attempt to never be deceived again, my subconscious brain began to assign reasons to any single point of data, no matter how inconsequential or likely benign. It was the equivalent of a hypochondriac assuming that a headache must be the result of a fatal brain tumor, rather than first addressing the much likelier causes of dehydration or too much caffeine.

When trying to ascertain if a perceived threat was real, I learned to list, in writing, the facts and only the facts. This helped me see if I was reaching a logical conclusion based on the available information or if I took a leap of panic into the worst-case scenario.

 

 

Am I assuming malicious intentions?

One of the hallmarks of over responding to a stimulus is taking everything as a personal affront. Whenever I find myself taking things too personally and assuming that it is a directed attack towards me, I know now that I’m really reacting to what has happened in the past.

A key way that this used to manifest in my new relationship is whenever my husband would be more reserved or withdrawn, I immediately assumed that I was the reason for the distance and that he was pulling away intentionally. This hypothesis would then be accepted even without any evidence to support it.

 

 

The more I answered, “Yes” to these questions, the more likely my response was rooted in the past and had little to do with my present situation. I also understood that continuing to have an emotional reaction to these situations would have a detrimental impact on my present life. And it was my responsibility to learn how to neutralize the triggers and my responses.

One event in particular highlighted the progress I was making on deactivating my triggers. It was shortly after my now-husband and I married. While at work, I received a notification that money had been transferred out of a joint gift account in the amount of $500, a little less than half what was available. The alert did not specify where the money moved.

My stomach dropped as my brain raced back to the memory of examining the account records after my ex left, where I discovered countless transfers in the $500 range. Transfers to accounts that I did not have access to. My emotional response in the present was telling me to panic, that this was a sign of deception and marital fraud all over again.

But this time, I stayed in control. I focused on the facts: my now-husband had never shown any signs of betrayal, I had the vast majority of my funds in my name only and so I wasn’t at the same risk as before, and all I knew was that the money had moved. Resisting the urge to make this my husband’s problem, I took a few deep breaths and continued my day.

Once I arrived home, I pulled up the account on my computer. The money had been moved into our joint savings account, as we had previously agreed. The amount was determined by limits set by the bank. What my triggers had assumed was deception was, in reality, an act of kindness.

And that’s the problem with triggers. They conclude guilt and demand proof of innocence. Deactivating them lies in believing first in decency yet also keeping the eyes open to signs of dishonesty or hostility. Trust in your perceptions but verify before assuming.

Five Vows to Make With Yourself After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I received the unexpected text that ended my marriage, I collapsed along with my entire world. In those moments, I had no answers, no solutions and little hope.

I felt gutted, a dry husk discarded after the honeyed insides have been consumed. And then, while my body still remained a quivering mass upon the floor, I felt an unexpected fire begin to burn deep within. In that moment, I made the rough drafts of the following five promises to myself.

It took months for these vows to fully develop and years for them to be fulfilled. Yet all along, these five covenants with myself became the guiding principles towards a new – and happy – life after divorce.

I refuse to let my ex take my future.

At first, I was completely focused on what I had lost. I felt like sixteen years of my life had been stolen while my back was turned. I became obsessed with figuring out the “whys” and the “hows,” spending more time in my head than in my life.

I spent months looking for an apology, an acceptance of responsibility or at least some evidence of karma paying a visit. Yet I was continually disappointed. I made deals with myself, “I’ll let this go after he …” Yet he never did.

I blamed him, not only for what he had done, but also for what was continuing to happen. Resentment filled me as I continued to wear the guise of a victim. After all, I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for his actions.

And then, it slowly began to dawn on me that I was the one who was allowing myself to continue to have my expectations dashed. I was the one who was more focused on what was lost than on what remained. I was the one willingly handing control over my life and my happiness to this person who didn’t exactly have a great track record of looking after me.

I couldn’t alter the past. I had no control over his actions (or inactions). But I could put my foot down. I could draw a line in the sand. I could refuse to allow him (or my feelings about him) to steer my future.

He had taken enough. I wasn’t going to allow him to take any more.

 

I will not allow this experience to define me.

I remember the first time I had to check the “divorced” box on an informational form. I felt a sudden, and surprising, flush of shame rise through my body. “How did I end up here?” I wondered. “What’s wrong with me?” I questioned, feeling like a failure.

For much of that first year, I was my divorce. It was the first things friends asked me about and the first thing on my mind every morning. It stained every area of my life, a scarlet towel thrown into a load of white laundry. I contributed to this attention through my need to obsessively talk about the situation with anybody and everybody. I needed to vent, to process, and wasn’t yet able to control the verbal emissions.

I became curious about dating, but was also hesitant that I would perpetually be viewed as damaged goods. After all, if one man deemed me as disposable, why would another view me any differently? When one man at the gym, with whom I had only exchanged the requisite exercise-related small talk, expressed his interest, I was stunned. It was the first inkling I had of a future that wasn’t stipulated by divorce.

I may have been divorced, but I was more than just my marital status. That experience and designation would always be a part of my story, but I didn’t have to allow it to define my entire life.

 

I refuse to allow one person to determine my worth.

In communications with his attorney, his other wife (yes, he followed the leaving-via-text with bigamy) and my mother, my ex made some outrageous – and outrageously awful – claims about me. When I first heard these assertions, I was horrified. And also terrified. After all, what if they were true?

After so many years with my ex-husband, I had learned to value – and even absorb – his opinion. He expressed his hatred of mums every fall when the flowers began to dominate the displays and I soon decided that I didn’t like them either. He conveyed full confidence in his ability to build his own design company and I allowed my faith to follow.

And so when he decided that I was a terrible, no-good, very bad person, I went along with it. Until eventually I realized that, if my ex was simply a stranger that I had a brief encounter with, I would not respect or value his opinions based upon his decisions and demeanor. So why should I listen to his views at all?

I made the decision to allow the preponderance of evidence to reflect my character, rather than the perspective of a single – and deeply flawed – person.

 

 

I haven’t come this far to only come this far. 

This vow was my carrot when I was feeling hopeless and my stick whenever motivation waned. When I started to feel like it was all-too-much and I simply couldn’t take another step, I would take a moment to assess the progress that I had made thus far.

I may not have been able to sleep through the night unaided by medication, but at least I was no longer as plagued by nightmares. I may not have been able to think about my financial future without an emotional reaction, but at least I could find comfort in the fact that I was granted Innocent Spouse Relief by the IRS.

As I reflected on these baby steps and the enormous effort required to make them, I became determined to not call it quits only partway up the mountain.

 

 

I will find a way to see the good in this situation.

This was the only one of those rough-draft vows that I verbally expressed when I was lying prone on the floor. And it was also the hardest promise to myself to keep as the bad news continually threated to overwhelm and drown out any attempts at gratitude.

At first, like with many things, I placed the burden of an agreeable outcome on external factors. I would feel vindicated if the courts came through and justice as I saw it was served. I could be happy if someone would swoop in and rescue me from this mess. I was hopeful that I would be free if I somehow found financial success through the situation.

Yet, as is always the case when relaying on outside circumstances to provide satisfaction, I was disappointed. And so I began to look inward for the gifts hidden beneath the tragedy. I started to list the positive outcomes that only occurred because of the divorce: I found who my true friends were and discovered just how amazing they were, I felt a sense of peace and power after surviving the worst that could happen, and I was given an opportunity to learn from this experience and to share my lessons with others.

Marriage begins with your vow to another.

When marriage ends, it is a time for promises to be made with yourself –

I vow to live the life I have, not the life I lost.

I vow to allow my character to shine despite my experiences.

I vow to see the value I provide to others and demonstrate kindness towards myself.

I vow to recognize my accomplishments and also demonstrate perseverance in the face of adversity.

I vow to always strive to the see the sun behind the clouds and to express gratitude for every gift.