You’re Not Flipping the Switch, You’re Turning the Dial

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We often believe that decisions in our lives are decisive, one choice made over another as resolutely as flipping a switch.

We’re often wrong.

Most decisions in our lives are made like the slow turn of a dial as we move incrementally towards some conclusion.

We slide into decisions carried on the back of inertia, following the path of least resistance and the road of slightest effort.

We creep into these courses of action and then retroactively rewrite our memories to justify our decisions-that-weren’t-really-decisions.

It happens at the beginning of relationships when it is easier to say yes to another date than to break it off. It occurs later on, when getting married is the next logical step and an “I do” is less effort than starting over. We may have kids through inertia, stay in careers through inaction and even turn the dial towards “divorce” without being aware of where the path may lead.

The changes are incremental. So small, they aren’t even noticed at the time like the heat slowly rising until the lobster is cooked without ever realizing he was in danger.

Be aware of areas where you are turning the dial. Be alert to your justifications applied after the fact. Make sure you are where you want to be, not just where you ended up.

Choose to flip the switch and turn your life on.

How Conquering Divorce Gives You Confidence

Posted on by stilllearning2b
confidence

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.

 

Divorce gives you plenty of practice in all of these. The end of a marriage is rife with authentic opportunities to build your confidence: 

 

Whenever we accept too much assistance, we sacrifice our self-confidence. But divorce gives plenty of practice in self-reliance. Because at the end of the day, you have to do it yourself.  You can accept help in everything from paperwork to counseling, but the talks with the lawyers, the tears in the night and the conviction to move forward are yours and your alone.

Divorce seems never-ending. The mountain seems insurmountable between the emotional process and the legal one. One step forward is often followed with a mudslide back. It’s a powerful feeling when you look back and realize how far you’ve come. Baby steps add up to marathons.

In many marriages, you grow to depend upon your partner as your go-to when you’re stressed or upset. But in divorce, that is the one person who cannot offer you the comfort you crave or the helping hand you desire. You have to do it all without the support of the person that you had always depended upon. 

Divorce is scary. It requires cojones just to face each day. You never know what may lie in wait around each corner and what demons you may be asked to slay. And if you have kids, it takes even greater courage to be the strong one for them.

When a marriage ends, it leaves no surface untouched. It affects every area of your life from finances to future. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is safe. It’s not easy living in a land of uncertainty with no firm footholds.

When you are partnered, you see yourself as your spouse sees you. You may accept his or her perceived weakness as truth and you may lose faith in your ability to conquer challenges. As you separate, you are forced to revise your self-image. And you will discover that you are stronger and more resilient than you ever imaged.

Made it through divorce? Here’s your trophy. You deserve it!

silver-trophy

Divorce Insurance

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My mom recently bought a new car which seemed to come with a seemingly endless stream of extended warranty offers and additional insurance opportunities. Insurance is an industry that capitalizes on our fears, offering reassurances in exchange for money and promising certainty rather than risk.

Insurance plays tricks on our brains. We somehow think that because we are aware of the risk and we addressed it up front, that the particular calamity will not strike. We unconsciously see our payout as a bit of a bargain with fate – if I pay now, you won’t make me pay later.

We want reassurances that everything will be okay and that disaster will not follow us home. And while some insurance is certainly a wise choice, it can be easy to allow the cost of fear to drain you.

Risk is a part of life.

And no insurance company can alleviate all loss and some pain and suffering is resistant to even the most generous sums.

 

As I was talking to my mom about her options, I wondered if anyone had ever tried to sell divorce insurance. It turns out that someone has.  The policy costs $15.99 per unit per month and matures after 48 months, whereupon it pays out $1,250 per unit purchased. If only protection against divorce were that easy.

From what I can tell, the company is not currently offering new policies. I guess the underwriting proved too complicated even though the actuarial numbers support a hefty profit. Plus, the money only helps to pay for the divorce and rebuilding expenses; it does not provide a happy marriage.

Maybe I can suggest another type of marriage guarantee – the extended warranty. It should be a more sure investment since the warranty is designed to expire before most marriages break down. Here’s what I envision:

 

marriage warranty

 

 

Of course it’s not possible to limit marital risk in such a way. Perhaps instead of insurance, we would be better served by developing our own life assurance policies. 

 

Something I’ve Never Admitted (Even to Myself)

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Something I’ve never admitted (even to myself) –

 

When my ex left, I was relieved.

Not right away. At first, I felt like I was breaking apart. Each breath singed my open and bleeding heart. I felt like I was gasping for air and grasping for a hold on reality. I was fractured and frightened.

But later? Once the wounds scabbed over a bit and I began to feel confident that I would survive?

I was relieved.

It wasn’t an emotion I expected to feel. In fact, I didn’t even accept as an emotion I did feel. On every conscious level, I loved and trusted that man with every fiber of my being.

But maybe on some deeper level, I was aware I was on a sinking ship.

A craft that I trusted to be whole and intact but instead had developed some fatal breach in its hull, obscured beneath the waters of awareness.

 

I lost everything. Yet in some ways I was relieved to be free of the life I had worked so hard for.

I loved him. Yet in some ways I was relieved he was gone from my life for good.

I faced immense pain and suffering. Yet in some ways I was relieved of the anxiety that had been growing beneath.

 

Maybe the relief was just my brain’s way of trying to wrest some control over the tsunami barreling down at me. Maybe the relief came from facing my biggest fear and still standing after the confrontation. Maybe I was relieved that the worst I could imagine was over and it could only get better from there. Perhaps it was the relief felt upon waking from a nightmare, the sweaty sheets revealing the anguish released during the night. Maybe it was like the relief felt after a good cry, emotions spent and endorphins moving in. Maybe it was the release of tension that I didn’t realize was building. Perhaps the relief came in an acceptance. A letting go after working so long to hold to him. Or maybe it was my intuition, discounted for so long, finally breaking through.

Who knows why I felt a release? I do know that I felt ashamed for feeling relieved. Guilty, as though I was somehow feeling something wrong. 

The truth is that emotions are messy and complicated. What we dismiss as irrational is often anchored in some truth, even if we cannot tease out the connections.

Relief is more than something we feel upon release, it is also a special type of carving that removes the unwanted material to create a dimensional image upon a backdrop.

I think the relief I felt was the removal of the unwanted falsehoods, letting my life and my self stand out yet again.

 

A Geographic

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Brock has been busy lately. Very busy. So when he had to drive to the other side of town this morning to drop something off for work, he invited me along for the ride. That’s life – sometimes quality time comes from a romantic evening out and sometimes it comes in the form of an hour plus on the highways of Atlanta (which even have traffic before dawn on a Saturday morning).

It was a quiet ride for the most part. The comfortable companionate silence between two people with nothing to prove who simply enjoy each other’s company. But it was also a journey to the past for me, as we drove from where we live to the area where I spent ten years of my former life.

I make that drive once a month or so to visit with friends or to attend some event. But usually I am either the driver or the sights are hidden beneath a shawl of darkness. This morning was different. The soft morning light had just brightened the sky when we made the turn into my old stomping grounds and, as the passenger, I had endless opportunity to peer between the trees to see what had remained and what had changed.

We drove by the street that was home to my first Georgia apartment where we served breakfast to the family who came into town to celebrate our wedding. We passed by my old library, where I checked out endless decorating books with the intention of turning our house into a home. I saw the biscuit place that my husband loved and the Costco where we went together every Saturday. We pulled through the drive through at the Starbucks where I met dates and sought public solitude after my divorce. And I caught a glimpse of the Gold’s Gym that was my sanctuary where I rebuilt mind and body.

I first heard the term “a geographic” relating to a need to pull up roots and start over somewhere new when I read Stephen King’s Duma Key. At the time I read the book, tucked securely in my other life, I didn’t understand that drive.

A few years later I understood it too well.

Once the reality of the end of my current life had set in, I felt an overwhelming need to escape. To run. To get away from every reminder and every location.

I wanted a geographic.

If I was going to be forced to start over, I wanted it to be fresh. Not built upon the dunghill of my former life.

Necessity kept me local for that first year; my job and my support system were nearby and needed. But that whole year, I felt restless. I no longer belonged. I needed to move. I was planning on a move to the West Coast, as far away as I could get in the continental U.S. But then love happened, and I cut my planned move short by about 2100 miles.

But it was far enough. As our morning drive took us through the streets of my old life, it felt like another world, another lifetime. It was distant yet interesting. I was curious rather than anxious. It held no pain, only far off memories. And it certainly didn’t feel like home.

I am feeling the pull for another kind of geographic right now. This semester has been way too frantic. I’ve felt pulled and prodded, trying to balance too much for too long. I feel the need to get away. To run. Not to another life, but to the woods for some quiet and simplicity. Life pared down to its most basic. Where the morning fire is often the most pressing item on the to-do list.

Peace. Hopefully without frostbite.

Sometimes we need to get away. Maybe for a few days. Or maybe for a lifetime.

Sometimes a geographic can help cure what ails us.