I wish I could say that my first husband’s infidelity has had no impact on my second marriage.
But the unfortunate reality is that, even though my ex has long since been excised from my life, his choices still have an impact. On me and on my marriage.
By understanding how being cheating on impacts your next relationship, you can help to maximize the positive effects and minimize the negative ones. Learn more here.
While I was in life limbo post-divorce, I crafted 10 rules for myself to follow. These were rules born partly of pragmatism, partly of fear and anger and mostly of determination. The rules were written in the relative vacuum of the weeks following a divorce. Easy to craft. They’ve proven harder to follow.
So here they are, my 10 promises to myself. Maybe you’ll decide to make them too.
I played by life’s rules. Played it safe. It was a barter of sorts – I’ll sacrifice now and you’ll spare me later. But life didn’t play by those rules. And I grew angry. I felt betrayed not only by my husband, but also by life. I did everything right, so why was I being punished? I promised myself to give up on the idea of sacrifice. To instead give or abstain when I wanted to with no expectation of any reward or pardon.
I just need to get through this month and then I’ll relax. Money is tight right now, but we just need to make it through until next year when business should pick up. I know I haven’t seen much of my friends lately. I’ll remedy that as soon as the summer starts. Yeah, I was a pro at justifying this delayed gratification. And the problem? Some of those expected events never did occur and more reasons to wait did. I promised myself to live every day, no matter what better days seemed to lie around the next corner.
When you’re a guest, you try to occupy the smallest footprint possible. To not make waves. And that’s no way to live for long. It was shocking to me when I moved in with my friend and her family after my husband exited stage left – I realized I had been feeling more like a guest in my home (and marriage) of 10 years then I did with her. I promised myself that I would never allow myself to be a guest in my life again; I was going to occupy my life fully.
I’ve never been good at confronting my fears. I basically took the “mosters under the bed” theory way too far – as long as I didn’t look, they weren’t real. Right? 🙂 Not so much. I started by facing the easier fears – going downhill, sharing my emotions publically and leaving to-dos undone. Those proved scarier when avoided than confronted. Then came the harder ones – vulnerability and trust. Still scary. I promised myself that I woud face those things that made my heart race and trust that I can handle them.
I remember the first time I felt alive again after my husband left-
I was giddy that night, retelling the tale of the improbable day to my friend, my heart standing at attention like a new recruit. My mind was swarming with the possibilities. My body tingled with the memory of touch and trembled at the thought of more. I felt alive, awakened. For twelve amazing hours, I could forget about the pain and the misery and pretend to be healed.
Pretend being the operative word.
Like many people recently out of a serious relationship, I clung to that feeling. It was such a relief after months of drowning in anguish and anger. I wanted more. It was like a drug, damping the pain. That spark awakened my body after the slumber of trauma and survival. I feared my body had forgotten how to feel pleasure much like it had forgotten how to eat. I was relieved to discover that some lessons are not easily forgotten. I relaxed into the respite from my daily struggle with the legal system, as I was still in the gory midst of a malignant divorce. But most of all, I felt hope, optimism that I would be able to trust again. To love again.
I wanted that spark to be real, to be fanned into a full-fledged flame that would continue to burn. But the truth was that I was nowhere near ready. I still relied on medication to get me through the endless nights and to trick my body into eating. I still became overwhelmed by the tears that seemed to sneak up on me. I still responded physically to telling my story and I avoided known triggers like they were land mines ready to explode. I was still learning how to be single; I certainly didn’t yet know how to be partnered again.
I was ready for the idea, but not the reality. I was prepared for the fantasies but not the work. I wanted so desperately to be healed and that spark let me believe, at least for a moment, that I was. But the truth is that the spark was real, but the promises of an easy escape were simply a mirage, glittering temptingly on the horizon.
For several reasons, that spark of attraction never developed into anything resembling a relationship. It was there and then it was gone, gifting me with the desire and confidence to enter the dating scene.
Yet often that’s not the case.
Sometimes that spark is nurtured into flame, lighting up the sky with the false dawn of a rebound relationship.
It can be a beautiful sunrise, warming your soul and becoming a ray of light to guide you out of the darkness of divorce.
And like a sunrise, it’s usually fleeting.
Rebound relationships follow closely behind the end of another relationship. I’m not a fan of absolutes when it comes to the time needed to heal and process the end of a marriage – it’s too individual and dependent on too many factors. Before you’re ready for love again, you need time to exhale the sadness from your divorce. You need enough distance to gain perspective. And perhaps most importantly, you need to be in a place where you’re not grasping or running away, as neither is a good way to start a healthy relationship.
There’s wisdom in the saying that you have to be okay alone before you can be okay in a relationship. And it takes some time to learn to be okay alone.
These relationships tend to burn hot – an intense attraction that feels overwhelming to your previously deadened self. They can make you feel animated. Exhilarated. Intoxicated. It can create a sense of, “THIS is what I’ve been missing.”
Sometimes real love can ignite quickly. But at some point, it has to settle into a smolder if it’s going to last.
Maybe your ex didn’t make you feel appreciated and this new person expresses gratitude for your every breath. Perhaps you felt disconnected and alienated from your former spouse and the new crush makes you feel attached and understood. A rebound relationship often seems to solve all of our problems by replacing one person (who obviously wasn’t a good fit) with one that seems custom-made.
It would be nice if creating a strong relationship was all about finding the “right” person. But that’s only the first step. In order to build and maintain love, you also have to address your own issues and fears and judgments that led you to this place. Nobody is going to save you other than you.
If somebody appears to be perfect, they’re either hiding something or you’re ignoring something. Rebound relationships often exist in the world of make believe, built on hopes and dreams. And that’s a weak foundation because at some point, reality will intervene.
Love, on the other hand, sees those flaws and accepts them.
A couple in a rebound relationship can appear to be very close, extremely connected and intimate. Yet it’s often a false intimacy because neither partner is willing or able to become completely vulnerable. If one person is in a savior role, they are using their position to refrain from feeling emotionally exposed. If one (or both) possess a victim mindset, they are leaving parts of themselves protected.
Love takes intimacy. Intimacy takes vulnerability. And vulnerability takes trust, self-awareness and time.
Sometimes rebound relationships mature into love. And often they end within a relatively short period of time. And the pain of that ending is frequently disproportionately large to the duration of the relationship. I often have people tell me that the end of the rebound is more painful than the end of the marriage. That happens for several reasons – a loss of hope, a realization that a different and infinitely more difficult path is required and the allowance of the brunt of the pain of the divorce (that was delayed due to the rebound).
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Some people advise to avoid rebound relationships. Not bad advice, but often impossible to follow since it’s difficult to see a rebound while you’re surrounded by it.
Instead of striving for complete avoidance, I counsel restraint – don’t rush into any major decisions in a relationship that ignites soon after your divorce. There’s no hurry.
Be honest, with yourself and with your partner, about where you are in the healing process.
Pay attention to your motivations – are you running away from an uncomfortable truth or grasping on to keep from drowning?
Besides, rebound relationships have value – They give you a moment of respite and hope. They highlight want you want in a relationship and what you need to address in yourself before you’re ready. And rebound relationships give you the belief that you’re not broken beyond repair and that you can love and be loved again.
Are you worried that your relationship is moving too fast?
It’s so easy to get carried away when you first meet somebody you’re attracted to. The oxytocin is flowing, the possibilities seem endless and you’ve yet to learn how annoying they can be on a long car ride. And sometimes that early intensity moves quickly into exclusivity, commitment and even cohabitation well before you even know much about your partner’s inner workings.
I see this fear in ever-increasing numbers in my friends as we all move towards middle age and beyond. It often seems as though it is better to have somebody than nobody, and so a new love interest is quickly catapulted into the role of “life partner.” Some people are aware of being motivated by a fear of being alone, while others are not conscious of the reasons behind their drive to be coupled.
It can be isolating when you’re not in a primary relationship and the fear that you will always be alone can solidify into conviction, prompting a ride on the fast track into partnership. But, as you may have experienced, the wrong relationship can be far, far worse than no relationship and there is no greater loneliness than that of feeling alone in a relationship.
A belief in a soulmate, a perfect-fit partner, can create a desire to grasp onto someone out of a fear of missing out on “the one.” Maybe you’re afraid if you don’t commit soon, they’ll walk away. Or maybe they even presented you with an ultimatum. Regardless, the belief in a soulmate can create a sense of urgency, much like a one-day-sale at a department store encourages you to pull the trigger on a purchase.
I don’t believe in soulmates. There are many people that can be a good fit for you. And “the one” is part found (similar values, right timing, etc.) and part grown (developing intimacy, communication, history). That second part cannot be rushed. Or if it is, you may find later that the relationship is only partially developed.
There’s a reason the beginning of a relationship is so exciting – you’re literally high. Stoned on oxytocin, your body telling you to bond and bond fast. And it’s easy to listen to that siren song of lust, spending every waking moment you can with your new obsession and running into a relationship.
Oxytocin is powerful. But it’s also blinding. Would make a major life decision while you’re drunk? Because if you’re pledging yourself to another while still under the effects of those early hormones, that’s exactly what you’re doing.
This was the one that got me when I started dating. When you have been married or in an exclusive relationship for a long time, it is all you know. And so you may approach dates as though they are a date night with your spouse. Not because you intend to move too quickly, but because commitment is what is known and comfortable.
Like anything, dating takes practice. Refrain from seeing only one person if you’re afraid you’ll slip back into commitment like a pair of fuzzy slippers. Learn to navigate through those early “getting to know you” weeks and months before you think about what comes next.
Covert abuse is sneaky.
It doesn’t leave a bruise on your cheek.
Or cut you down with scathing words.
Or even obviously isolate you from others.
It’s often only possible to identify covert abuse once you have escaped its clutches (and even then, it usually takes a period of months or years to fully grasp what happened). It’s like a domestic form of Stockholm Syndrome, the persecutor masquerading as a protector.
The following are the subtle signs that were present in my ex husband. Small dots of data that when connected, paint a crimson flag of warning. If you see a preponderance of similar signs in your relationship, it warrants further investigation. If you recognize these traits in your former relationship, it can give you some information that can aid in the healing process.
These signs are subtle and can have many causes and manifestations. Just because someone fits these descriptors, it does not mean they are covert abusers or narcissists. But it does mean that you should look twice. Especially before you leap into marriage with them.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 