Vengeance

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I read the report of the woman who broadcast a cheater’s picture on Facebook with equal parts understanding, shame and revulsion. When I first decided to go public with my story, I wanted to use his name and his image. I rationalized it by the fact that his arrest records and mugshot are public documents and that I wanted to protect others from a run in with someone so skilled at conning. Luckily, leveler heads in my life talked me out of it.

That was part of my motivation, but I was still angry at that point and I was also motivated by a desire to get revenge. That’s where the shame comes in. I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I felt the impulse to “out” him. Regardless of what he did, that’s not my role. Furthermore, that’s responding from a place that I don’t want to be. That’s playing by his rules.

Some see it as retribution when I discuss what he did.  I’m puzzled by this.

He left me with a text message.

Fact

I never spoke  with him again.

Fact

He stole money and ruined credit.

Fact (backed up by the IRS)

He committed felony bigamy.

Fact (and there is a warrant for his arrest)

Those things happened. Am I only being a “good” ex-wife if I keep my mouth shut and never divulge what he did? I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sit well with me. Would I also be expected to protect him if he had been physically abusive? When we keep secrets like this, we give the abuser more power and reinforce the victim role.

I’m not acting to put him in jail but nor I am allowing him to keep me in one.

Vengeance is mine but it is not about shaming him and plastering the internet with his visage. Rather, my revenge is finding a way to use his actions in a positive way. It’s not motivated by a chance to get him back, rather I’m driven by a desire to right some wrongs and create meaning and purpose from the whole thing.

And that’s vengeance I can feel good about.

A Wife By Any Other Name

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I married for the first time, I changed my name without thought. I was happy to replace the name that I associated with childhood with one that I related to becoming an adult.

I was young – 22 – and I had not yet accomplished much with my given name. Shedding it caused me no harm, only the hassle of making the changes to accounts and cards.

I embraced my wedded name, had no regrets. And, yet, in court when the judge was finishing the last of the paperwork, I was struck dumb when she said, “And I assume you want to keep your last name of B—-.”

After the mute shock wore off, it took everything in my power not to scream,  “$#!@ no!” I wanted away from that name as much as I wanted away from that artificial life. Besides, since he committed bigamy, there was already another Mrs. B—. That’s too many in my book.

My given name was legally restored that day yet I continued to use the other professionally for the remainder of the school year. It was strange time, bridging two worlds and using two names.  I worked under one name yet was applying for new jobs using another. I had accounts and cards in both names. I started my first real Facebook account using my maiden name and it suggested that I friend myself that had the married name (I had an unused account that I opened out of curiosity). For a year, I carried my divorce decree in my purse so that I could prove that I was one and the same, even though I felt worlds apart from my former Mrs. I almost felt like a fraud.

Changing my name was different at that point. I was 32. I had made a name for myself professionally and had hundreds of former students who knew me only as Mrs. B—. I almost lost the opportunity for the job I currently hold. Upon receiving my resume, one of the administrators realized that she was close friends with a former coworker of mine.

The administrator called her friend, “Did you used to work with a Lisa Arends?”

“No,” replied the friend, assuming that I was some charlatan.

She was telling the truth. It was my other self that had worked with her. Luckily, she realized the duality of my identity and called the administrator back to clarify.

That was a wake up call for me.

In a time when women married young and operated primarily in the domestic sphere, a name change was harmless. Now, with women marrying later, working outside the home and facing the realities of potential divorce, a name change can have very tangible consequences. Most discussions that I see on issue address it from a philosophical perspective, eschewing the patriarchal origins or talking about embracing the new family.

That’s romantic and everything, but what about the real world?

When my parents divorced, my mom had no real choice but to keep her married name. She had spent years building up a small business and her name was key to the word of mouth. No name = no way to put food on the table. She has since remarried yet retains her prior married name, at least in the professional realm. Ideal? Perhaps not. But practical.

I am choosing to do much the same. Although I refused to keep my former name out of principle, I now am operating out of practicality. When I wed again this fall, I will keep my given name. I simply have too much to lose if I do not.

On a side note, this reminds me of one the nicest gifts I have ever received. I won Teacher of the Year under my old identity. After the divorce, the plaque, which once occupied a place of honor in my classroom, was relegated to a closet since it was no longer in the right name. For my birthday (the first we were together), Brock snuck the plaque out of the closet and had the nameplate redone to match my new identity. Yes, I cried.

I queried my Facebook followers the other day on this topic. Many of them had also faced setbacks and hassles with multiple name changes and do not intend to change it again, regardless of changes in marital status.

Did you change your name? Would you do it again? How do handle (or intend to handle) the kids’ names (an issue I don’t have to worry about:) )?

It’s always funny when my students comment on my former name. When they see Mrs. B— scrawled across a clipboard or emblazoned on a book, they ask, “Who is she?”

“Oh, just someone I used to work with.”  She feels like a lifetime ago.

Besides, Tiger doesn't care what I'm called, as long as I'm still his momma:)
Besides, Tiger doesn’t care what I’m called, as long as I’m still his momma:)

One Isn’t the Loneliest Number

Posted on by stilllearning2b

 

English: The loneliness of Culloden Culloden i...

The song tells us that one is the loneliest number.

 

The song lies.

 

Because two has the potential to be lonelier than one could ever be.

 

When you’re one – alone and single – you know your position. You harbor no false hopes of connection. You carry no expectations of companionship. You know where you stand.

 

But when you’re two – half of pair – you begin to expect understanding. You look for and anticipate gestures of love. You want and assume that you will be listened to and recognized.

 

When those expectations are not met, when you are standing together yet you feel apart, that is loneliest feeling you can ever have. Those moments when your partner does not seem to see you, those feelings that go unrecognized, can cause you to feel more isolated and invisible than any table for one.

 

Loneliness is a strange beast – we fear it and yet we invite it in to curl up by the hearth. Loneliness is a choice. You cannot control how others respond to you but you can change how you respond in turn. Be honest with yourself – are you inviting loneliness in? Is your ego preventing you from accepting help? Are you sending signals that you want to be left alone? Are you failing to recognize the signs that someone is reaching out to you? Are your expectations blinding you?

 

Are you failing to make decisions because you are afraid of being lonely? Do you isolate yourself rather than take the risk of companionship? Do you assume your partner isn’t listening and you turn away in anticipation? Do you build up walls and then lament that no one tries to demolish them?

 

The truth is, regardless of outward appearances, we are all lonely at times. It doesn’t matter how many Facebook friends you have or how many roses your partner buys you. We all feel separate at times, misunderstood. It’s normal. Unless we perfect telepathy (Sookie Stackhouse, I’m looking at you!), we are the only ones who inhabit ourselves.

Alone doesn’t have to mean lonely.

 

Loneliness is a choice. We only become invisible when allow ourselves to be. Loneliness comes from within; it is a perception and an insecurity with oneself. It is a self-feeding emotion. The more you welcome it in, the more it takes up residence. Recognize it. Acknowledge it. And then try acting as though it isn’t there. It’s funny- when you no longer focus on how lonely you are, you often forget that feel alone.

 

One isn’t the loneliest number.

 

And really, neither is two.

 

You have a choice to make any number lonely or not. It’s up to you.

 

 

 

 

 

Them’s the Rules – A Blogging Year in Review

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I am a rule follower in most areas of my life. But not in the blogging world. I don’t proofread (and I make lots of typos!:) ). I fail to spend time formatting pictures. And I’ll post multiple times in a day. Furthermore, I am absolutely horrendous at following the guidelines for awards (although I am eternally grateful to those of you who have graciously sent them my way). However,  there is one blogging tradition that I feel like I just have to honor – the year in recap, especially since the one year anniversary of my blog coincides with the conclusion of 2012.

So, here goes – a look back at Lessons From the End of a Marriage 2012. I apologize in advance if I get this wrong. Again, I don’t follow the blogging rules so well:)

The Beginning

Last December, I spent some time with my friend Christian. I showed him the outline of the book which I had started two years prior and had just committed to finishing. He recommended that I start a blog as a way of pre-marketing the book. I knew nothing about blogging, so I downloaded two Kindle books on the subject – one free and one $.99 – and I set up my WordPress site that afternoon. I set a goal of posting at least three times a week, but I was intimidated by the thought of coming up with that many ideas.

I didn’t need to worry. The ideas just began to flow and I found myself posting daily. I found a rhythm of writing in the mornings and jotting down ideas throughout the day in a small spiral notebook I kept in my purse (no iPhone yet:) ). I started following other blogs and found myself pleasantly surprised at the supportive WordPress community. I was still working on the book and the blog was a great place to explore ideas and solidify the themes.

I experimented with Facebook and Twitter and tweaked my blog settings. I never really knew what I was doing; I simply did what felt right in the moment. Looking back, some of the posts makes me giggle and some make me cringe. But I’ll leave them – they are part of the history.

I learned the humor inherent in seeing how people found my site. My favorite search terms?

  • lisa arends bigamy (This one always makes me giggle. I’m not the bigamist! 🙂 )
  • monkey lifting weights (because of this post)
  • shaved monkey (that would be this one – I guess my monkey mind titles are a little strange:))
  • how to get away with bigamy (please – just say no!)
  • happy birthday to my car (I felt weird when I wrote that title, but I guess I’m not the only one)
  • goddess flexibility pics (uhmm…thanks but I’m no goddess and I’m not very flexible)
  • math show sole (????)
  • squish bikini (eww! there is a pic on here of me in a bikini, but I don’t consider myself to be super squishy)
  • crying is okay here (yes it is)
  • the joy of outdoor showering (I know I love it)
  • who did mrs wayne dyer marry (I would hope Mr. Wayne Dyer)

I went into blogging with the idea of promoting a book. I had no idea that it (and writing) would become an inherent part of my life.

Key posts:

How it Began

When is a Phone More Than a Phone?

Softness Isn’t Just for Selling Tissues

The Garden

Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Seperated

10 Things My Vibrams Taught Me About Relationships

The Importance of Love Mentors

The Blame Game

Rebooting: Are You in Safe Mode?

Taming the Monkey Mind

Goal Post

I Was Lucky

Two Years Ago Today

You Make Me Happy

What Set Theory Can Teach Us About Marriage

The Big Time

As I made my way into the blogging world, I found myself commenting on sites all over the net. Huffington Post was a frequent visit of mine and I often found that the articles in their “divorce” section spurred my own ideas, which I frequently left on their page. Then, in April, much to my surprise, I was asked to write a piece for them sharing my story.

And, oh what a ride that was. The piece went viral, sending over 20,000 visitors to my site in two days. It was cross-posted around the world in a variety of languages. The comments poured in. Most were shocked. Many were supportive. And some were hateful.

It was a strange feeling. Until that point, I had a relatively small and insular group of readers. I had kept my name hidden (thus stilllearning2b). My readers were supportive and understanding. The readers of Huff Post? Not so much. This was a crossroads for me – I had to decide if I wanted to pull back or go full force with my story, not knowing what the repercussions would be and having to thicken my skin in the process.

I think my choice is evident. I remembered my motivation to share in the first place – I didn’t want anyone to feel alone in their journey as I once did. I kept writing, adding more Huffington pieces and adding MindBodyGreen and others to the list.

Key Posts:

Check Out My Article in the Huffington Post!

Signs in the Rearview Mirror

Reaction

Strange Place to Be

Tsunami Divorce

8 Ways Yoga Supported Me Through Divorce

Have You Taken Out Your Mental Garbage?

The Long Con

Getting Away With Bigamy

The Book

By the end of July, the book was finally finished and ready to be published. I wondered if I would still feel the compulsion to write now that the project was complete. Again, I had nothing to worry about.

This period was when I really began to identify as a writer. I decided to be transparent in the process and share my story of self-publishing and writing for Huffington Post. The completion of the book also put me in a different place emotionally, and my posts began to focus more on present day rather than with wrestling demons from the past.

Key Posts:

When Can I Call Myself a Writer?

Adventures in Publishing

Adventures in Publishing, Part II

From Victim to Victory

How to Become a Huffington Post Blogger

Welcoming the End of an Era

Write Yourself Through Divorce

Beyond Belief

Things exploded in the early fall. Another Huffington article went viral and I began to be contacted almost daily by producers. Most offers fell flat for one reason or another, but The Jeff Probst Show became a reality in September. It. Was. Surreal.

I had already exposed my identity to the internet, but now my “teacher persona” and “blogger persona” met for the first time. My coworkers read my book and approached me in the halls, giving me sympathetic hugs. My student’s parents sent me encouraging emails and engaged in whispered conversations at school events.

My little blog project wasn’t so little any more and it had grown well beyond what I could control. There was some anxiety associated with being so “out there.” It’s not always easy to have strangers comment on your life, your feelings and your actions.

Key Posts:

Time Travel

If You Missed the Show

My Motivation

Who Is He?

Lisa Arends on The Moffett Message

Marital Fraud: Questions Answered

The Blessings

I keep coming back to this. Every time I ponder pulling back, I receive an email or comment that helps me recommit to sharing. I have been so touched, so humbled and so inspired by the messages I receive or the posts I read from others who are surviving their own tsunamis. Additionally, I have found that writing reminds me of what I have in my life; it makes me grateful for what is rather than bitter for what was lost. I no longer feel alone. I am amazed at the supportive community that is all around us if we are willing to be vulnerable and show our pain. You guys are awesome:)

Key Posts:

Extend a Hand

Marathon Recap: I Won

Forgiveness 101

Quitting vs Letting Go

This is a Test of the Emergency Rant System

Practicing What I Preach

Love After Divorce: A Reflection on a Journey

I am a planner by nature. It is somewhat uncomfortable for me to accept that I don’t know what 2013 will bring. So here’s to letting go of expectations, staying in the moment, practicing gratitude and sharing the love:) I wish all of you the happiest of new years!

Revelations in Raddichio

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Yesterday morning, I received the following post on my Facebook page:

Would you be interested in going on a date with me? Say, dinner and a movie tonight? If so, could you please meet me at my place by 6:00 pm? Oh yeah, BTW I have a big dog that is really nice so don’t be scared when you see him. His name is Tiger (see pic below) and he is very sweet. Have a nice day and I hope to see you tonight.

Your friend, Brock

This request me giggling with glee and anticipation. It was so much better than the usual, “Hey, you wanna do dinner and movie tonight?” that we are both guilty of. So, of course, I accepted the date. I even showed up early:)
We decided to do dinner at a convenient little Mexicanish place down the street so that we could avoid the Friday post-work hell that is Atlanta traffic. We each got our usual: salad with beans and no dressing for me and salad with chicken and vinaigrette for him. Even though I’ve eaten hundreds of meals with this man, I noticed something last night for the first time.

A picture taken, of A Green Salad.
A picture taken, of A Green Salad. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The salad comes with the lettuce on the bottom of the bowl and then heaps of sour cream, guacamole, salsa, grilled veggies and, in his case, chicken, piled on top. Before Brock took a bite, he carefully blended the entire bowl, mixing the best parts in with the blander selections.

I looked down at my plate. I was doing my usual – eating the lettuce first and saving my favorite, the guacamole, until last. I also got to thinking about my ex.

Quick disclaimer here. I am not in the habit of comparing Brock and my ex. It is a pointless and potentially dangerous endeavor. However, sometimes aspects of Brock help to bring me more clarity about my ex.

My ex used to eat his favorite part of the meal first and then he would move on to the less palatable portions.

Revelation.

We eat like we approach life. Me? I tend to delay happiness and have no problem trudging through mediocrity to hopefully get there at some point. My ex? He had no problem going straight for what he wanted and had trouble delaying gratification. And Brock? I think he does it best, mixing satisfaction along with the necessities.

Now, Brock and I both tend to eat too quickly (I can thank being a teacher with 20 minute lunches for that one!). Maybe that’s a sign that we both need to slow down to savor life a bit more.

I know one thing. Next time I find myself eating a salad, I’m going to enjoy some guacamole with every bite.

P.S. Skyfall is Bond at its campy, fun, exciting best 🙂