Understanding and Addressing Loneliness After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It has been postulated that loneliness is one of the primary epidemics of our age. Loneliness is much more complex then it may seem; the single person living alone may not be lonely while the married person constantly surrounded with others might be. Teenagers today, never far from their countless social media feeds, report feeling lonelier than generations past. Loneliness comes not from the quantity of our social connections, but from the quality.

Loneliness is so much more than the ache of being isolated. It is associated with a greater risk of depression and an increased chance of death though all means. We are a social species; like Maslow’s young monkeys proved, we have evolved to form relationships. And we only thrive when those relationships thrive.

Understanding Loneliness After Divorce

Your spouse probably knew you better than anybody. Even if the final years of the marriage were filled with conflict, just the fact that he or she knew exactly how to push those buttons is a sign that you were known. And then at some point, either before or after the split is made official, you became persona non grata in his or her eyes. And that’s the door sliding shut on your solitary confinement.

If you do not have children or your children spend time visiting their other parent, you are facing the haunting echoes of an empty home. The barren space mirroring the chasm in your heart. It’s a strange feeling, being alone, when you’re used to another person being there. Even if your spouse traveled frequently leaving you home, you may find that the finality to this emptiness gives it more weight.

The end of a marriage is the end of so much more. Like the ripples from a stone thrust rudely into the waters, the impact of the divorce carries far and wide. You may lose friends. And many of the friendships will certainly change. It’s a cruel joke – when you need connections the most, they fall apart.

Some of loneliness after divorce is inevitable. There is a void that takes time to fill. There are changes to adapt to and a curve to learn.

But you don’t have to sit idly by. You may feel as though you’re in solitary confinement, but the only locks on that door are the ones you secured yourself.

Addressing Loneliness After Divorce

The first step in combating loneliness is understanding your social and relationship needs. Are you an introvert that thrives on alone time and only needs a few close connections? Or, are you happier when you are surrounded by people? It’s an important distinction. The introvert can feel lonely and stressed if in the center of the action, whereas an extrovert can feel painfully isolated even in the company of a single close companion. Know thyself. And create a world that matches your needs.

So many rebound relationships are entered into in an attempt to patch that intimacy void left by a departing spouse. It never works, at least at first. It takes time to form connection; a new relationship, no matter how exciting, does not yet have that vulnerability and intimacy of an established one. Instead of looking to new partners to fill that gap, turn to existing relationships. This is a great time to nurture that bond with a close family member or your best friend. Those relationships tend to take a back seat when you’re married. Invite them to sit shotgun.

In divorce, you lose people. So go find more. Invite a coworker to lunch. Accept the invitation to a party. Join Meetup.com and sign up for a group that interests you. Get to know your local grocery clerks; a smile and some brief chatter from a friendly face can change your entire day.

Cultivate your passions. What did you used to enjoy doing as a child or young adult that you no longer do? This is your opportunity. Pick up that paintbrush again. Brush the dust off that guitar. Sign up for the soccer league. When you’re engaged in what you love, you don’t feel lonely. Even if you’re the only one in the room.

One of the most devastating elements of loneliness is the feeling that you don’t matter. That you could exit the world today and no one would even notice. So make an impact. Join a volunteer organization. Become a Big Brother or Big Sister. Spend time with the elderly at a retirement home and gain wisdom from their stories. Or, register to rock newborns in the nursery and gain hope from their innocent eyes.

Ultimately, loneliness is a choice. And inaction is choosing to remain isolated.

So if you’re feeling lonely, do something.

Reach out.

Nurture connections.

And get busy.

Divorce can make you lonely.

But you don’t have to stay there.

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.

Like It Never Happened

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My life is generally divided into B.D. (before divorce) and A.D. (after divorce). I divvy up experiences, locations and even relationships between these two categories. I am (often painfully) aware of this division, this singular event that has fractured my life in two.

Last night, for a magical few hours, that mental division was erased and the crevice between my selves felt filled.

It was just a simple evening at an outdoor concert with friends – two couples, one with a kid. One from B.D. and the other (at least for me) from A.D. These blendings of friends are rare in my life due to the twin constraints of busy lives and Atlanta traffic (my B.D. friends live a minimum of 45 minutes away).

It felt great to join the two groups, but that wasn’t the magic. That’s where the kid comes in.

The B.D. friends, Sarah and Curtis, are extremely special to me (they are the ones who opened their home to me in the first year A.D. – Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated). They have been in my life for the past decade. Due to Curtis’s schedule, Sarah, my ex and I used to enjoy events together – everything from a King Tut exhibit to the annual Brew at the Zoo. We were thrilled for them when they started the adoption process almost five years ago. Although my ex and I never wanted our own children, we both enjoyed playing the avuncular role with other’s offspring.

Sarah and Curtis received the wonderful news in April of 2009 that they had a baby girl waiting for them. She was still in the NICU and would be for several more weeks due to prematurity and other complications. In their eyes, she was perfect. She came home that May. She was still quite fragile and was tethered to tubes and alarms that kept Sarah anchored in a corner of the master bedroom for the first couple weeks.

On her first Saturday home from the hospital, I made plans to visit. My ex declined to accompany. I thought it was strange for him to miss meeting this child that meant so much to our friends. I thought it was strange, but I brushed it off. In retrospect, he didn’t want to meet her because he knew his days in that life were numbered.

I’m glad they never met. That tiny, fragile infant has since grown into a spirited four year old (Let’s Go On An Adventure) that embodies a Botticelli beauty. A child that has no memory of my life B.D. and a child with whom I have no memories associated with my ex.

I loved watching her with Brock last night as he taught her how to walk Tiger on a leash (unfortunately, no photos were taken but just picture this 30 pound girl walking a 95 pound pit bull through a crowded park – the looks we got were priceless!) and she gifted him a “friendship rock.” He has fully embraced the uncle role with her, even though they do not see each other often. Brock may not have been there for those years waiting for the adoption and the first year of her life, but he’s here now. And, as far as she will know, he is the only husband (okay, so he’s not that yet, but soon:)) that I have ever had.

Brock and Tiger - two peas in a pod:)
Brock and Tiger – two peas in a pod:)

A quick side note here – Is it weird that I love watching Brock interact with kids even though I don’t want them? I just love seeing how comfortable he is and how he understands how to communicate with them at various developmental levels. Makes me smile.

Last night, the harsh distinction (that exists more in my mind that anywhere else) between B.D. and A.D. blurred as I sat with friends who have made the journey with me and friends that have only known me after. As I looked around the group gathered on our tarp, it didn’t feel A.D.

It just felt right.

Three Way Conversation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you remember three way calling? Where you pushed a button after connecting with one person to allow you to dial out to a third?

Three way calling dominated my middle school years. I spent countless hours curled in the corner of my waterbed atop my zebra-striped comforter (hey now, it was the early 90s!) with my ear pressed to my corded phone (I didn’t have a cordless model for a few more years). Much of time, one of two of my two closest friends were on the other line. We could spend hours talking about everything and nothing. But mostly, the talk centered around boys. Hmmm…would they be classified as everything or nothing?

The legendary zebra bed and my infamous chubby cheeks of childhood:)
The legendary zebra bed and my infamous chubby cheeks of childhood:)

And then the topic of a three way call would come up. Who should we call? Is there anything we need to discuss before they are on the phone? Any bit on intel to which they are not privy? It was so deliberate, that addition of a third to the conversation. The new voice could entirely change the tone or course of an exchange. New topics may be broached or old ones discarded due to their proclivities and knowledge.

It was always a balancing act, those three way conversations. Especially with middle school girls involved. We usually had alliances; the affections were not spread equally between the three. It was always a dance between inclusion and exclusion, always wondering your place in the mix.

Three way conversations have again appeared in my life. Not via phone (do iPhones even have that capability or has it gone the way of the floppy disk?) but in my relationship.

I am acutely aware that every conversation between Brock and I also includes our pasts, the ghosts from before dialing in to voice their feelings and opinions.

Now obviously every conversation between two people pulls from their respective pasts. It’s impossible for two adults of any age to speak without their pasts whispering their ears. Our experiences shape or beliefs and our perceptions. We filter the world through this netting woven from days gone by.

With my ex, I was not as aware of the past. We were together from such a young age, perhaps I assumed my past was his past.

But that’s not accurate. Even though we lived parallel lives for many years, we had different perspectives born from our childhoods. I neglected to listen to the specters whispering of the trauma caused by his alcoholic family and I didn’t pay attention to my fear of abandonment on the other line. I acted as though we were in on a private conversation when, in reality, it was a three way conversation with our pasts.

I’ve returned to the state of my youth. I am more deliberate about those three way conversations. I listen to the voice that is speaking – past or present – and try to respond appropriately. It’s easier now to tease out the utterances of former lives, as we each bring years of unshared experiences to the table. I am more aware of their effect on our views and responses, the latter of which are often anchored more in yesterday than today. We cannot hang up on our pasts; we must learn how to engage them in the conversation.

The zebra-topped water bed has long since been retired and I no longer have a corded phone. However, the three way conversations continue. Only now we don’t spend hours giggling about boys.

To those impacted by Boston: Marathoners train to endure pain. But there is no training that can prepare you for this kind of torment. My heart goes out to the runners, their supporters and the thousands of people who are taking care of the affected.

You Up For Something New?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

That was the text that came to my phone at 3:30 this afternoon. Of course, there’s only one appropriate response:

“Sure.”

The text came from a friend of mine that I frequently refer to as my “sprinting buddy.” We first met at the gym a couple of years ago. He was in the early stages of trying to regain his fitness after a knee surgery that ended with a staph infection and landed him in the hospital. When we met, he had been cleared by the physical therapist to lift weights again but his leg was still weak and shaky. I admired his spirit from our first meeting. He wasn’t moaning about the years he lost fighting for his leg. He didn’t complain about the loss of fitness he once had. Instead, he talked about his dream to play tennis again and, even more, to sprint again.

Our casual gym discussion eventually turned into a weekly “leg day” workout. I delighted in coming up with exercises that would challenge him and his strengthening leg. He never complained (only would text me the next day to let me know if his legs were sore or not). Although, I did sense a wary look when I pulled out the Bosu Ball or the kettlebell:)  We did squats and lunges. We balanced and jumped. And his leg grew stronger while we shared giggles over the customs associated with our mutual Norwegian roots.

Throughout that time, he still dreamed of sprinting, something he enjoyed and excelled at in high school when he was on the track team. His first tries that year fell flat. He just wasn’t ready.

At the end of that school year, I switched jobs and gyms. We lost touch for a few months. Then, I got a text asking if I wanted to meet up to run sprints. I was thrilled. We met at a nearby park where I watched as he wrapped his knee in a couple of layers of protective gear and jogged a couple of test laps. The mind was ready to run, but the body still needed convincing.

The look on his face while running that day was amazing as he ran the dream that had kept him going through the ordeal with his knee. The joy was contagious. I found myself pushing myself harder and having more fun than I ever had before while sprinting.

We continue to meet up to run sprints whenever we can. He has since well surpassed me (I think there may be some cheetah mixed in with that Scandinavian blood). Every time we run, it leaves me feeling so refreshed and relaxed, even through the wheezes as I struggle for air.

The parallels between our recoveries these past couple years have been interesting. He was cleared by his physical therapist about the same time I was cleared by my psychiatrist. We were no longer “sick” yet we had quite a ways to go before we were fully operational at the levels we were accustomed to. We both tried to push the healing process along on our own timelines only to be reminded that it wasn’t within our control. And finally, we both came through the other side stronger and more grateful than ever before.

So, what was with the something different? Normally, we run 100 yard sprints. He had worked his way to 200 yarders while I was training and recovering from the marathon (sneaky!). Today was my first stab at them. And, I gotta say, they were pretty awesome.

I love the feeling of running while giving 100%. I love the satisfied exhaustion I feel after sprinting. I love having friends in my life that are an inspiration. But most of all, I love to see people accomplish their goals and delight in the fruition of a dream.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish catching my breath:)