PTSD After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
PTSD divorce

Can you develop PTSD after divorce?

When my husband left, I trembled for a year. That’s not just some figurative language used to convey emotion; I literally shook. For a year. My body quaked from the aftershocks of the sudden trauma, my legs constantly kicking and my hands quivering. Those weren’t my only symptoms, either. I had flashbacks and nightmares that took me back to the to the day where I received the text that ended my marriage. The 21-word incoming message read: “I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and leaving the state.” From then on, the sound of an incoming message would actually send me to the floor, where I braced myself for another digital attack. I felt numb and had trouble remembering aspects of my marriage or my husband. I avoided sights and sounds that were associated with my marriage, often driving well out of my way to steer clear of my old neighborhood. I couldn’t sleep; I was hyper alert, always scanning every room and ready to fight or flee at any moment. I could not eat and my weight fell to dangerous levels.

As far as I know, my life was never in actual danger. But apparently my mind and body never received that message. In an instant, the person I trusted the most became someone whom I feared. I felt threatened and unsafe.

I didn’t know what was real and who to trust.

My husband never forced himself upon me, but I felt as though I had been violated when I learned I had been sleeping with the enemy. He never physically hit me, but the psychological blows left scars just the same. I’ve never been to war, yet every interaction with his lawyer was a battle that left me paralyzed with fear for my ability to survive.

I by no means intend to trivialize the horrors endured by those who have been the victims of abuse or those have been through war. Those are traumas on a scale well above what I have endured. What I have come to realize, however, is that trauma can come in many forms and in many degrees. The psychiatrist I saw that first year after my divorce stopped short of diagnosing me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), but the term came up as I described my symptoms, and the medications she prescribed are frequently used in the treatment of PTSD. Another therapist I saw also mentioned the disorder and used complimentary strategies.

PTSD happens when your mind cannot process the extent of the trauma.

It’s like a short circuit in your nervous system, where you have trouble distinguishing between real and perceived threats. We tend to think of PTSD as occurring only in life-threatening situations, but it can occur anytime there is an acute or prolonged trauma. Not all divorces lead to PTSD, but if it is sudden or abusive, the trauma can be severe and sudden enough to lead to PTSD-like symptoms.

According to The National Institute of Mental Health, PTSD includes flashbacks, bad dreams, staying away from triggers, feeling emotionally numb, feeling guilty, having trouble with memory, being easily startled, feeling tense and angry. Additionally, the diagnosis of PTSD requires that the symptoms persist beyond 30 days and that they interfere with daily life. There is a difference between normal grief, shock and anxiety and the pathology of PTSD.

PTSD occurs when a perfect storm of conditions are met. First, prior traumas can “prime” someone for PTSD as the stress can actually cause epigenetic changes, rewiring the body to be extra sensitive to further trauma. Women are also more likely to experience PTSD, possibly due to heightened fear conditioning. PTSD is also more likely to occur when traumas accumulate. When someone who has some of these risk factors undergoes a divorce, particularly one that is sudden or especially toxic, PTSD-like symptoms can occur. Sudden abandonment or attack by a loved one can trigger panic and disorientation as real as any physical threat.

The trauma is stored in the body as well as the mind.

During my divorce, I learned that most people assumed that depression would be the disorder de jour after a break up. They expected me to be sad and withdrawn, curled up on my bed with a box of tissues and endless pints of ice cream. Instead, I was hyper vigilant and always on the lookout for the next blow. It’s important to realize that all divorces are not the same and we all respond differently. There is no “right” way to be after a divorce. I was embarrassed for a time to reveal the true nature of my symptoms. I felt like I wasn’t permitted to feel that way since I didn’t have a knife to my throat. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t cope with the basics of eating and sleeping. I felt weak every time I over-reacted to a stimulus. Once I admitted my struggles, I was able to actively seek help to overcome them. I also learned that I was not alone in my reaction to the divorce.

There is help for those who are experiencing PTSD-like symptoms after a divorce. First, communicate your symptoms to your doctor or therapist. A checklist can be a useful tool, especially if you are having trouble putting words to your feelings. Be firm. I found that some therapists and doctors didn’t really listen to me, rather they projected how they thought I should be feeling. Different therapies, including EMDR, have been shown to be effective against PTSD. There are medications that can be useful to limit the anxiety and to calm the mind and body. Additionally, mindfulness practices, including yoga and meditation, can also help to reset the sympathetic nervous system and regulate the release of stress hormones.

Allow the body to teach the mind how to relax.

In my case, medication helped me survive the first year while a combination of mindfulness training, yoga and exercise has alleviated most of the symptoms permanently. I still have moments of unexplained panic where a slight trigger causes an extreme reaction, but those moments are thankfully few and far between. I no longer feel like I’m a prisoner to my anxieties, trapped in a purgatory where I’m forced to relive those awful moments time and time again. I am now able to visit those memories without panic and live my life without waiting for the next blow.

I never formally acquired the label of PTSD, but it served to be a valuable framework for me to understand and communicate my symptoms and to eventually overcome them. Labels, such as PTSD, can be helpful as we try to understand a complex situation, but even they only tell part of the story. Be gentle and understanding with yourself and others. Don’t be quick to judge or make assumptions. Don’t be ashamed to ask for assistance and admit when you cannot do it alone. Seek the help you need and know that it does get better.

 

A review of Lessons From the End of a Marriage, the book that details my experience:

Lisa Arends does an effective job in writing about the aftermath, the fallout, of a life-changing shock, on the abrupt desolation of her marriage. The read is a well done walk through all the PTSD and repeating changes that occur, which is depicted in a letter written to her by her exited husband, the commentary on the letter under the umbrella of the devastating changes she experienced, emotionally, physically and logistically are a walk through the fact that PTSD is not just relegated to victims of war, but to any life encounter that uproots your very existence in a shocking manner. She’s a likeable author, an engaging woman, that you take to and feel for, because she portrays the story, the horror she lived, with veracity and integrity, to allow the facts to unfold on the page even if they point a finger back to her (ie: a text from her spouse to his mother-in-law, Lisa’s mother). Devastation upon devastation unravels and what we hold onto dearly is lost, not just in the relationship but also in the family built around it, fury and otherwise. Arends navigates through this debacle with grace and humility, filled with emotions that are painted with strokes that are sure to offer others in similar situations some reflections and ground; she labels as “Lessons” chapter after chapter, ultimately culminating in what she has learned, valuable life lessons, applicable to anyone. But, this is not just a self-help work, or a read for someone in a similar situation, it’s a compelling story of the frailty and misconceptions we all live with, the thin line of trust & betrayal, confidence and fright, love and rejection, all the things that make the paradoxes of life and keep a balance, hopefully the balance stays in some semblance of equilibrium. In Arends case she tilts off the scale and by the Grace of her very nature, the love of her family, and whatever else strength she draws from she journeys through to meet what is most precious to all of us, connecting and opening to trust (applause to Tiger, no spoilers) despite all temptations not to, and in doing so, learning the ultimate, that love does conquer and cannot be soiled by another’s shadow cast upon our soul.

In the book, I never name PTSD. I only describe the events and my reactions. Yet, here was a third party who deemed that to be an accurate label.

 

According to the Mayo Clinic, the following are the symptoms of PTSD:

Symptoms of intrusive memories may include:

  • Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
  • Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event

Symptoms of avoidance and emotional numbing may include:

  • Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
  • Feeling emotionally numb
  • Avoiding activities you once enjoyed
  • Hopelessness about the future
  • Memory problems
  • Trouble concentrating
  • Difficulty maintaining close relationships

Symptoms of anxiety and increased emotional arousal may include:

  • Irritability or anger
  • Overwhelming guilt or shame
  • Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
  • Trouble sleeping
  • Being easily startled or frightened
  • Hearing or seeing things that aren’t there

From Mayoclinic.com.

After I received the text that ended my marriage, I experienced many of these symptoms. I had the flashbacks and the dreams. I had trouble thinking and remembering. I couldn’t sleep and I frightened easily. But, most of all I trembled constantly, my autonomic nervous system was on high alert, waiting for the next assault.

At first, the triggers were everywhere. Driving along the road that passed by my old house felt like traversing a field with buried landmines. I fully expected an explosion at any moment. I responded as though every mention of his name was literally a threat to my life. At any moment, I could be catapulted back to instant where I received the text. It was as though the phone was always in my hand.

My psychiatrist that I saw that first year stopped short of a full PTSD diagnosis, but she mentioned the disorder and selected medications that are used to treat it. I honestly don’t think I would have made it through without the medications. They allowed me to sleep and eat – two things I could not yet accomplish on my own.

Over time, the triggers decreased. I learned how to sleep and eat without assistance. I stopped the medications and was able to use meditation and exercise to reduce any symptoms. I can still feel the shadows of the trauma when I feel like I’m being abandoned again but, for the most part, my mind and body no longer confuse real and perceived threats.

Finding Happiness After an Unwanted Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
unwanted divorce

My divorce certainly did not present itself as a gift, trussed up with a big red bow like a Lexus in a Christmas commercial. Instead, it was a big ugly box, filled to the brim with explosives. It was a present I never anticipated and one I never desired. But, as it came with a “no return” policy, I was determined to make the best of it. From Rewrapping Divorce As a Gift

When you are facing down the bullet train of a divorce you never wanted and cannot seem to halt, all you can think about is the devastation of losing your marriage. Your partner. Your best friend. The pain is unimaginable and a future without your spouse feels impossible.

I know. I’ve been there.

And I’ve also made it through.

Now, over five years out, I can say that my tsunami divorce was the worst thing to ever happen to me.

And also the best.

Sometimes you have to lose what you wanted.

To get what you need.

And sometimes you have to decide you want to feel better.

More than you want to hold onto the past.

Let Go of the Marriage You Thought You Had

You didn’t have a good marriage.

Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you still do.

But the truth is that it wasn’t the marriage you thought you had. Because if it was good, it would not be ending.

I had the hardest time accepting that truth. From my perspective, my marriage was great. And sometimes, when I think back at the wonderful moments we shared, I still do. I was happy. I had a good marriage.

But he didn’t. And it wasn’t.

In some ways, that realization was freeing. The divorce wasn’t the end of something good. It was the end of something broken. Even if I didn’t see the cracks.

You didn’t have the marriage you thought you had. It’s time to let it go.

I know his name. His face. His birthday. His social security number. His family. Yet I still do not know who he is. However, I can tell you who he was. He was my best friend. My lover. My confidant. He was the man who built a toy chest for our friend’s son’s birthday. He was the man whose scent instantly calmed me and whose arms held me like they were molded from my frame. He was a voracious reader and he devoured science fiction and fantasy novels. His favorite series was The Dark Tower, by Stephen King. He hated tomatoes and loved Sweetwater IPA. He preferred dark clothes and refused to wear V-necks. He wore his watch on his right wrist, the face to the inside of his arm. He was the man who patiently built me an office and then rebuilt it for me when I grew weary of the desk where I spent hours writing papers. He was a quick learner, but a poor student in school. He was a fan of Apple, Banana Republic, and Alice in Chains. He was never athletic due to bad knees, although he started to work out once the pounds encroached with age.  He was the man who stayed up all night for a week with our third puppy who came to us with kennel cough. He was so confident that I would win Teacher of the Year, that he ordered flowers before the votes were announced. He was the man I turned to for advice and comfort. He was my everything.

He was all of these things, yet he was also the man who left his wife of ten years with a text message. He was the man who hid debts and stole money from accounts. He was the man who wooed an innocent woman, told her nothing but lies, and married her although he was already wed. He was the man that locked the dogs in the basement and drove off, not knowing that they would survive. From Who Is He?

It’s Okay to Grieve. And It’s Okay to Move On.

An unwanted divorce is an enormous loss. You are losing the image you had of your spouse and your marriage. You are losing your present life. And you are even losing your hopes and dreams for the future. It touches every area of your life.

It’s okay to mourn the loss of what was and what would be.

I spent hours keening in my room, my pillow muffling my cries so that couldn’t be heard. I ran hundreds of miles with tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring the path in front of me. I would pick up the phone, just wanting to hear his voice, before I would remember that it wasn’t mine to hear anymore.

And I also made strides to begin my new life. I wrote and posted goals for the year. I made new friends and tried new things. I dreamed about what I wanted for my next chapter and started taking baby steps towards those aspirations.

By all means, grieve.

And also live.

I would have moments, even days, where the suffering was unseen. But its absence was always short-lived and my brain had a trigger-finger that would herald its return at the slightest provocation. My body held the memories like the discs in a juke-box, ready to play with the touch of a button. As long as I didn’t approach, I was okay. But as soon as I recounted the tale, my voice would tremble and the pain would come rushing back as though it had been lying in wait.

And so I kept telling the story. And with each retelling, the heartache faded a little more. And the suffering grew weaker. My once constant companion became like a distant friend – we may keep in touch on Facebook, but we have no real need for face to face. From The Evolution of Suffering

Don’t Sign Away Your Right to Happiness

It’s funny. In a divorce, people will fight over the house. The retirement. The cars. But they often forget to fight for what really matters.

Your own well-being.

Be too stubborn to allow your ex to control your happiness. They may have ended the marriage, but they didn’t end you.

My early inroads to happiness were initiated out of spite. I went to a party at the lake soon after the text, mentally saying, “I’ll show him that I can still laugh.” I accepted a date, thinking “I’ll show him that I’m still desirable.” I went hiking on “our” favorite trail, muttering “You can’t take this from me” with every step.

In time, my spite faded, but my tenacity did not.

I was more determined than ever to live a good life. To show that I am stronger than what happened to me.

If you can’t because of, smile in spite of.

I began to realize that by telling him that he made me happy, I was putting all of the responsibility for my own well-being on his shoulders.  That is a huge burden to carry and one that was unfair to him.  I had given him the power to make me happy.  Which means he also had the power to make me unhappy.

If I had left that power in his hands, he would have packed up my happiness with the rest of his belongings when he walked out the door.  I snatched it back from him, determined to find a way to regain ownership of my well-being. From You Make Me Happy

Just Because You Can’t Picture It, Doesn’t Mean You Can’t Create It

It’s difficult to imagine things that we have not experienced. It is one of the reasons that we fear loss more than we value gain. And when you’re trying to picture a life without your spouse after an unwanted divorce? The brain simply seizes, locking in on what is missing.

Your brain is only telling you part of the story. Yes, there is loss. And there is also possibility.

In the beginning, all I could think about was that I wanted what I had had. Then I realized I could create something even better.

It’s hard in the beginning to think about your future, unbound by the marriage you thought you would have forever. We tend to limit our thoughts and, in turn, ourselves.

The ending may have been unwanted. Now create a life you want.

Bloom where you’re planted.

Everything’s going to be okay.

That was my mantra for that first, awful post-divorce year.

Everything’s going to be okay.

I would repeat those words in my head as I lay sleepless every night.

Everything’s going to be okay.

My friends and family would offer those words as comfort, reminding me that the “now” was not the always.

Everything’s going to be okay.

I imagined some future where he would face consequences and I would be relieved of mine.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Sometimes, I railed against that platitude, uncertain how anything could ever be okay again.

Everything’s going to be okay.

But still, I held onto those words like a life raft, wanting to be pulled free from the pain.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Those words were my Xanax against the panic, the overwhelming fear of unwanted change.

Everything’s going to be okay.

One day I realized that it really was okay. Maybe it wasn’t the okay I imagined, but it was okay nonetheless. From Everything’s Going to Be Okay

Different Can Be Good. Or Even Better.

Yes, it is hard adapting to life after an unwelcome divorce. You are forced to change when you were happy with the status quo. It’s not fair. Life rarely is.

You can’t go back. But you can always move on.

And one day you just might find that you’re happy that your life didn’t go as planned.

I know I am.

So now here I am. Open and bleeding. No walls, no buried head. I need to learn to be here, to stay vulnerable, without allowing myself to panic and either hide or grasp too tightly. It’s not easy. It doesn’t feel safe.

I want reassurances. Promises. But the truth? That’s only a bandaid. I need to relax and breathe through my fear. I know I’ll be okay, I just need to do a better job of convincing myself. After all, the only true abandonment is when we abandon our true selves. And that’s one I can control. From Vulnerable

Here’s my personal message to those in acute divorce pain. In it, I give some strategies for moving on when all you want is for everything to be the way it was.

And a dose of laughter and truth:

photo 2-104So get out there and live!

How to Accept the Apology You Never Received

Posted on by stilllearning2b
apology never received

In an ideal world, everyone that causes harm to another, either intentionally or unintentionally, would immediately offer up a genuine apology: accepting responsibility, acknowledging the pain, express empathy and remorse, immediately changing behavior and, if appropriate, making amends for the damage caused. But we know that rarely happens. And it never happens as quickly as we would like.

Instead, we receive a “sorry” tossed out with little thought and nothing to back it up. We hear, “I’ll do better” and better never comes. We may find that in place of an apology, we instead receive blame and misplaced anger as defensiveness leads instead of empathy. The apology may be discounted by the excuses that accompany it. We may see an utter lack of comprehension at the pain that was inflicted. Or we may just be listening to radio silence, waiting for an apology that never comes.

An apology that maybe we don’t even need.

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Why do we want apologies?

Children are taught almost as soon as they can talk to say “Please” when they want something, “Thank you” when they receive something and “I’m sorry” when they hurt someone. At the most surface level, we view an apology as a basic ritual of societal order that preserves a sense of fairness and responsibility.

Apologizing has become almost a knee-jerk reaction for many. How often have you bumped into somebody or inadvertently cut someone off with your grocery cart and had the word, “Sorry” out of your mouth without thinking? Even in such a minor interaction without much empathy or remorse behind the word, the apology still carries importance. When it is uttered, it acknowledges the infraction and its impact on the other person. When nothing is said, the other person feels invisible and insignificant.

At its most basic, an apology says, “I see you.”

And a lack of an apology is a passive rejection.

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What do we expect from apologies?

Pain wants to be heard; the need for our suffering to be acknowledged drives our need for an apology. And the greater the perceived damage, the greater the perceived need for an apology. We all have an inherent sense of fairness, a balance of how things “should” be. When someone harms us, that balance is disrupted and we presume that an apology will make strides towards correcting that imbalance and restoring a sense of fairness.

We often see an acknowledgement of the slight and remorse for the actions as the keystone in the bridge to healing. As though once that apology is received, the remainder of the recovery follows. And so we wait.

Because we want to be heard. Understood. And the pain keeps screaming until it is recognized.

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What are the limitations of apologies?

Apologies can never undo what was done. They are not a magical eraser than removes any harsh words or caustic actions. When we imbue them with these special powers, we increase our expectations to a level that can never be reached.

No apology will ever be good enough to abolish the pain and reverse the damage. Just as you cannot control somebody else’s apology, they cannot mitigate your suffering.

You can’t outsource healing. You have to do it yourself.

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Do we need apologies?

An apology or a lack thereof is a reflection of the other person’s character, not your worth.

When somebody causes harm and refuses to accept responsibility, they are telling you who they are, not who you are.

When someone is too cowardly to admit fault, they are showing you their shortcomings, not yours.

And just because somebody displays an utter lack of empathy, it does not mean your pain is not real and valid.

When you wait for an apology, you are allowing the person who harmed you to continue to harm you. You’re letting them decide if you get to be okay again.

And is that really a decision you want to place in the hands of someone who lacks empathy and courage?

If this person is still involved in your life and they are unable or unwilling to authentically apologize, take a good look at your boundaries. Is this someone that you want to remain in your life?

How can you accept the apology you never received?

The most critical component of accepting an apology you never received is to eliminate any magical thinking you have about apologies. They are no holy grail of healing. They do not have the power to erase what has happened. Once you realize that, it becomes easier to let go of the driving need for acknowledgement and amends. An apology is only required if you give it that power.

Your well-being should not hinge on somebody else’s shortcomings.

Their inability to accept responsibility is their problem.

Not yours.

Your healing is your responsibility.

Accept it.

If you’re having trouble accepting an apology you’ve never received, this can help.

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Ten Ways Your Divorce Makes You Better Than Before

Posted on by stilllearning2b
divorce better

I don’t think anyone ever responds to the childhood question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” with “Divorced.” Yet, for many of us, the end of a marriage does become part of our life story. I know I don’t have to point out the downsides of divorce to you; after all, they have a way of speaking for themselves.

But what about the upsides? What about the ways that your divorce, even if it was of the unwanted or malignant variety, has made you better than before?

Because whether you realize it or not, divorce (like many other life challenges) has changed you. Shaped you. Strengthened you.

Its harsh grit has left you polished. Its demands have made you grow. And the pain has left its mark.

You aren’t the same person you were before. You’re better.

Maturity

You may have to be a legal adult to get married, but there are no tests for maturity before we pledge our lives wed to another. And in many cases, we enter our first marriages still children in many ways. Perhaps we placed too much faith in the idea of soul mates and happily ever after. Maybe we didn’t fully appreciate the effort that marriage requires. And possibly we still carried childhood wounds and patterns into our marriages rather than assuming adult responsibility for our own responses.

Divorce is like a drill sergeant yelling, “Grow up!” into your tear-streamed face. It leaves no room for childhood fantasies and overdependence on others. It requires that you put on your big-girl panties or big-boy briefs. Maybe for the first time in your life.

Confidence

In the beginning, divorce saps your confidence. You may be feeling defeated because you couldn’t hold your marriage together. If an affair was part of your divorce story, you’re wondering what the new partner had that you do not. And once you face the dating scene again, yet older and saggier than before, your self-doubt grows.

However, that’s only part of the story.

Because 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. And divorce certainly provides these opportunities in spades.

Perspective

The only way to truly understand something is to first walk through it and then step back and look upon it from a distance. There’s a reason that some of the best marriage advice comes from people who have been divorced – they know the beginning, the middle and what can lead to end in a way that those only speaking from within cannot fathom.

As time goes on, and your divorce moves further back in the rearview mirror, you will be able to see patterns less clouded by emotion and cluttering detail. That perspective gives you information that you can use to change your own behaviors and to improve your future relationships.

Continue to read the rest.

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6 Letters to Write After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
letters divorce

Some people get a “good” break-up. They get transparency, conversation, empathy and some form of closure.

But the rest of us?

We get abandonment, betrayal, deceptions and any hope of a conclusion has to come without the cooperation of the other party. Or perhaps our ex is present but insists on shifting the blame and responding in anger, instead of telling you what you need to move on. And even if you had a “good” divorce, there still may be things left unsaid that are holding you back.

I spent many months thinking I needed something from him – an explanation, an apology, even an argument would have been preferable to radio silence.

Eventually, I tired of waiting on him. So I took matters into my own hands, picked up a pen and held the conversation myself.

Over the next several months, I wrote six letters – three to him, two to me and one “from” him. I never sent any of them, although I have published a few in an edited form. The letters were never about him. They were about allowing me the conversation, the explanation and the apology I never received. And even though the words all came from within, the release was as real as I could get without him taking part in the dialog.

Writing these letters may feel strange; they’re more about feeling and less about thinking. Writing these letters may be painful; they force you to address issues you’d probably rather politely decline. And writing these letters is freeing; when you write it, you can change the narrative in your mind and create your happy ending.

From: Present Self
To: Self Before Break-Up

Purpose: This letter’s purpose is multifold – it helps to alleviate any guilt you may feel at how things ended, it allows you to explore any lessons found in the past and it acts a cheerleader to help keep you going through the dark days post divorce. If you are six months or more post break-up, you can also write a letter to your self that was in the early days after the end of the relationship; it helps to s=build compassion for yourself and illustrates how far you’ve come.

 

From: Present Self
To: Ex

Purpose: Of all of the letters, this is probably the most frequently written. I know for me, they (yes, there was more than one!) practically demanded to be typed out, fingers slamming the keyboard in anger. This is the letter where you say all of the things you wish you could/had to your ex with no concern of repercussion. Don’t censor yourself; write what comes. This is not a letter meant to be shared, rather it is a good candidate for the purification of fire.

From: Present Self
To: Ex

Purpose: This one’s a doozy; it requires that you flip all of your current thoughts on their head. You’re addressing your ex again, but this time in gratitude rather than in anger. I call this radical gratitude, where you express your appreciation for the person and situation that hurt you the most. Unlike the previous letter, this one actually benefits from seeing the light of day – not by being sent, but by being posted in an area where you can be reminded each day of the gifts hidden beneath.

Continue to read the rest.

 

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