Divorce and Twitter: What’s the Connection?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Links to a recent study associating active Twitter users with an increased risk of cheating and divorce filled my newsfeed yesterday. The study shows a direct correlation between heavy Twitter use and the likelihood of divorce across age ranges. Many of the pieces that featured the study implied that romantic or sexual interactions on the social media platform were the precipitating factor in the end of the union.

But I’m not so sure it’s that straightforward.

You see, our brains are not that different than mice in a lab. We like rewards. And technology has capitalized on that part of human drive and motivation. You gets levels and badges for succeeding in a game on your phone, you get a buzz or chime every time someone contacts you and, on most social media, you vie for likes and shares. Each of those interactions is like giving the proverbial mouse a treat, eliciting a release of dopamine in the brain. And, just like a mouse that receives too much cheese, those electronic rewards fatten us as well. We become accustomed to that higher level of stimulation.

And real life, including real marriage, doesn’t offer neurochemical rewards on such a frequent basis.

But cheating does.

The risks and newness of an affair bring with it an increased production in dopamine, rewarding the cheater for his or her indiscretions.

So maybe the problem isn’t really found in flirty Tweets. Maybe the problem is that we’re training our brains to require an unnatural level of rewards. And then it becomes all too easy to seek the desired attention elsewhere.

Unless your spouse has a gold star chart for on the fridge. Who knows? Maybe that will become the new affair prevention technique:)

Closed

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I used to be obsessed with finding closure.

I pursued it with the intensity of Tiger chasing a tennis ball, convinced that it contained the peace I so desperately needed. I yearned for it at night and awoke frustrated when it hadn’t been gifted to me in my slumbers. I kept searching for the one thought, the one idea, the one fact that would seal my past away behind an air-tight door. I feared that closure would not be possible within the limitations my circumstances provided. I worried that I was dependent upon him to create that closure. I was concerned that I needed an apology or at least an answer to form that seal against the pain. An answer and apology that I knew I would never receive.

I started to believe that my closure would forever be incomplete, a door ajar allowing the whispers of the past to carry through.

And that thought scared the hell out of me. So I used that fear to drive my search for the elusive closure. I had to be creative since I had few answers and even fewer signs of remorse.

Closure is closely linked with understanding. If we know why something happened, it’s easier to accept its occurrence. But sometimes circumstances don’t allow us to sift out the truth from the past. But you can create your understanding even when you don’t have all the answers.

I started my search for understanding by learning about and systematically affixing labels to him: sociopath, narcissist, addict, etc. None seemed to truly fit, but they allowed an anchor for understanding. Next, I assembled pieces of the past like a giant puzzle, looking for patterns and ideas that fit. Slowly, an image began to emerge of a man that carried a dark passenger, a man that was defeated by his shame and his secrets. My conclusions may be accurate or they may be entirely woven of fiction. But it doesn’t really matter where understanding comes from; it brings relief regardless of its origins.

I had hoped that understanding was enough to bring closure. It was not. It answered the “why” but still did not alleviate the pain. My anguish was still a doorstop propping open the door to the past. So I focused on being thankful, using gratitude to soften the sorrow. Allowing the perspective of the bigger picture to bring purpose to the pain. And it helped. But closure was still hiding. I felt like there was still some unanswered question that kept me from being able to reach a conclusion.

Eventually, I tired of the search. I stopped looking for what I couldn’t seem to find.

I figured closure would remain a dream for me.

But then I drove by my old house last Friday and felt nothing but gratitude. And I realized that I had finally had it. My search for closure is now closed.

Sometimes the best way to find something is to stop looking for it.

Sometimes you have to trust that doors will continue to open before you can close the one you came in through.

And sometimes dreams do come true.

Rerouting

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Almost four years ago, I moved to an area across the street from a park that had a four mile trail along the Chattahoochee. I walked or ran that trail several times a week for the year and a half I lived there, often with Tiger or Brock (or both) in tow. I knew its every twist, anticipated its every turn. I could anticipate the areas that would become impassable with rain and the sections that would crack and split in the heat of the summer. I was one with the rhythm of that trail, every step metered to match its demands. I could traverse its terrain almost subconsciously, as its topography was etched into my brain.

Once we moved, my almost-daily visits to this particular trail trickled to once every couple months. On one visit, not too long after the relocation, I stopped short on a particular section of the path. The trail used to continue straight ahead, dipping down into a creek where you had to cross over carefully placed stones, before climbing again on the other side. On this day, the trail in front had been disguised, tree limbs and stones dragged onto its packed soil to dissuade use while a new trail, still rough and somewhat undefined, veered off to the right and wound around the peak, meeting up with the old trail on the other side of the creek.

I resisted the urge to blaze ahead through the old, familiar trail. Instead, I tentatively took the new route. It was narrow, even treacherous in places, as it had yet to carry many feet along its virgin soil. It felt awkward traversing this new path within a known hike. Alien. It forced my brain out of its subconscious attention into a more focused space. I had not learned where every root or every rock lie in wait to catch an unsuspecting foot. I didn’t know which rocks across the water were secure and which only offered the illusion of a firm foothold. I felt myself slow as I paid attention to every detail until I was back on familiar ground.

With each visit, that new section of trail became more worn and more defined as the old trail slowly disappeared into the woods. Today, I realized that the old trail was indistinguishable from the surrounding woods; the only way it exists now is in the memory of those who have walked its path. And the new trail is now wide and firm, secure where it was treacherous and explicit where it was was subtle.

It’s uncomfortable when our paths are rerouted. It’s natural to resist the change. Walk it enough, however, and what was new and uncomfortable simply becomes the norm.

Marital Limbo

Posted on by stilllearning2b
marital limbo

We had one of our good friends over the other evening. He was recently divorced when I met him a few years ago, although Brock knew him through much of his marriage. In the past several years, he’s been dating, at times sporadically and at other times with more intent. He even contemplated moving in with one woman not all that long ago.

So I was shocked when I heard these words out of his mouth the other night –

“I never want to get married again.”

I was shocked, not because I think marriage is the best answer for everyone. And I certainly understand shying away from matrimony after enduring the pain of divorce. I was shocked because marriage seems to fit him. He’s stable, healthy and loyal. He has goals and doesn’t shy from hard work to achieve them. He has grown as a person and has developed many healthy relationships around him. When dating, he is a serial monogamist, developing deep relationships with one woman at a time. And I’ve never sensed any bitterness about his past.

So why the anti-marriage stance?

And then yesterday, I read this post from Matt over at Must Be This Tall To Ride. He talks about the time spent in marriage limbo when he slept in the guest bedroom for over a year. I winced while reading it; it certainly sounded like a special kind of hell. Neither married nor single. Like living in a home destroyed by a flood, yet unwilling or unable to let it go.

And I thought about my friend. He lived in marriage limbo for a long time. He was married, yet in the most important ways, had no wife. They orbited around each other with little chance of connection. And when they did connect, it was ugly. The divorce, in many ways, was a relief. An untethering to a lame duck marriage.

His memory of marriage is not a good one; what was good has been sullied by the time spent in limbo. No wonder he is shying away.

My experience could not have been more different. I never spent time in a decaying marriage. I never visited that marital land of neither here nor there. I was in marriage heaven and then instantly plummeted into the fires when it ended. My bad memories are not of marriage, but of marriage ending.

So perhaps that’s part of why I wanted to be married again.

 

My curiosity is piqued – is there a correlation between time spent in marital limbo and desire to be married again? What’s your story?

The Types of Friends You Need During Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It is normal for your marriage to be at the center of your social life. You have a built-in activity partner. You share friends. The “plus one” is expected when you receive an invitation.

And then the marriage dies.

Your go-to is gone. The mutual friends may be divvied up like a bag of Skittles, or they may simply scatter as though the bag of candy was dropped to the floor.

It is tempting to hide. To hibernate. You may want to pull the covers over your head and not come out until the debris field has been cleared. It’s tempting, but it won’t help you heal. Think of the skin under a bandage that has been left on too long. Is that what you want your heart to look like?  Click here to read the rest.