Rebooting: Are You in Safe Mode?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Rebooting in safe mode.

Divorce is a major reboot of your life.  Control-Alt-Del of all that is familiar.  The process can vary, some may have time to save and safely exit their open files.  For others, applications are subdued with repeated clicks of the “force quit” button.  Divorce causes damage to the system, errors and gaps.  For most of us, we have to start our lives over again in safe mode.

According to Microsoft,

Safe mode is a troubleshooting option for Windows that starts your computer in a limited state. Only the basic files and drivers necessary to run Windows are started. The words “Safe Mode” appear in the corners of the display to identify which Windows mode you are using. If an existing problem does not reappear when you start in safe mode, you can eliminate the default settings and basic device drivers as possible causes.

After a divorce, safe mode means that your life is powered up again in a limited state.  Only the necessary applications  for living are in place; it is survival mode.  There is nothing wrong with this state; in fact, it is often required to be able to function at all.  However, just as a computer in safe mode is not truly operational, a life in safe mode is not truly living.  Safe mode is a time, a space, a tool that should be used to diagnose and treat any maladaptive hardware or software issues so that a full reboot can occur.

Look at your own life.  Are you in safe mode?  Does this state still serve you, or is time to complete the repairs and perform a full reboot of your life?

A(void)

Posted on by stilllearning2b

He had lost himself.  Somewhere along the way, he no longer knew who he was.  Did the depression come first, leading him astray?  Or did the depression tag along, following the self out the door?  Regardless  of the order, he was left a shell.  Rather than face the void and explore its dark depths, he chose to avoid by creating a facade of a man.  It must have been exhausting, balancing on that edge, trying not to fall while maintaining the illusion that he was nowhere near the cliff.  He was a master at that delicate act for years.  Even when he left, he thought he could continue to pull a Copperfield on those around him, using mirrors of  deception  to hide the enormous truth.  The fall was  inevitable.  For a brief period after his arrest, he seemed to see the precipice, the darkness surrounding him just beyond the lights he used to distract and blind.  Yet still, he was unable to face the pain, and he chose to continue being a master of illusion. By denying the void, he allowed it to grow.

avoid

I also avoided the truth in those years, not consciously, but on some deep level. I didn’t give any credence to the physical symptoms of anxiety that coursed through my body in the final few months; I wrote them off as work stress combined with my Type A personality. It’s hard accepting that I didn’t see the truth. I feel bad for me, but even more so, I feel like I failed him. One of the few regrets I have is that I didn’t know that he needed help before it was too late.

I expected to face my own void when he left.  I loved  that man, adored  him.  He had been the driving force in my existence for half my life.  How could I lose him and not face a gaping wound?  The initial loss was too raw, too overwhelming to feel any sense of  loss.  As I settled in to my new state of being, I surprisingly realized I didn’t feel as much emptiness as I expected.  It was more like the void left after a tooth has been pulled: slightly sore with the occasional shocky bit, but mainly just strange and alien.  Like one does with the tongue after losing a tooth, I explored the hole, drawn to its strangeness.  At first, it consumed all my waking thoughts, but as time elapsed, it grew less prominent.  I became accustomed to his absence faster than I ever anticipated, consciously filling that void with friends, activities, anything I could get my hands on.  I survived not by teetering on the edge, but by filling in the hole.  I am still aware of the place where he was, but accept that he was the tooth that needed to pulled for healing to occur.

I hope that he is not still trying to walk along that cliff or survive the darkness beyond.  I wish that he, too, can find a way to heal the void.

Opportunities

Posted on by stilllearning2b

purple crocuses with closed bloom Français : D...

The best lessons can be found when we are facing unanticipated change and loss. It is a moment between moments where we are lost and searching, broken and vulnerable, wanting and open. In those moments between moments we learn who we really are and what we are capable of.

When you find yourself in that moment created in the space after a sudden change, try to see the opportunities wrapped within the loss. Growth is so much easier when we are unencumbered by our usual habits and assumptions. Rather than immediately seeking protection from the pain, be with it and be vulnerable. It is in those moments between where our potential resides.

Blame – Continuing the Conversation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

So why do we play the blame game at the end of a marriage, assigning guilt like we’re tallying points in a shuffleboard match? Why does it have to turn into a bride vs. groom match with everyone taking sides?

The blame frequently starts within the dissolving union. One partner often holds the other responsible for the destruction of the marriage. They can be quick to list the faults and transgressions of their ex, pointing fingers at another as a way of avoiding having to look at themselves. This is frequently performed behind a shield of righteousness, painting the blaming spouse into a victim role where they have no responsibility for their own actions and their own happiness.

Not all blame comes from within. Some of the most painful and damaging blame comes from those outside the marriage who feel the need to pass judgment on its demise. Read the rest on The Huffington Post.

 

Trigger Points

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Collage of several of Gray's muscle pictures, ...

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Not surprisingly, most of my triggers have to do with fear of abandonment or betrayal. These are the ones that petrified me in the early months as their intensity would take me back to the moment I learned that my life as I knew what over, curled on the floor in a fetal position around my phone.

As with physical trigger points, emotional ones also improve with time. My trigger points are fewer and further between and the response is somewhat muted.

But time is not enough.

My triggers have the potential to be a source of tension in my current relationship. It’s not unheard of for Brock to commit a level 1 offense on the Relational Transgression Scale (RTS) and for me to respond as though it is a level 10 misdeed. That’s not fair to him or our partnership, nor do I want to respond in that way.

Aware of the potential damaging nature of my triggers, Brock and I agreed early on in our relationship that I would make a concerted effort to neutralize them as much as possible. These are the strategies that I found useful:

Awareness: The first step was for me to become aware of my triggers, especially when the pain and reaction was referred to a different area. I learned that when I reacted strongly to something, it would behoove me to look deeper to see if my response was actually due to something in my past. Often it was.

Avoidance: Avoidance has its place. In the early months, I simply could not handle certain known triggers. I gave them wide berth until I was strong enough to face them.

Preemptive Strike: Now, when I am going to encounter a known trigger, I work to calm myself ahead of time. Some exercise, meditation and a reminder of my gratitude for my current life go a long way to preventing an overreaction.

Layer: I have reclaimed certain triggers by intentionally layering new and happy memories over top. The old pain is still there, but it muffled by smiles.

Plan: I also have backup plans for those times when the triggers do strike. I am better at stepping back. I remind myself to breath. I know that a long run will help to dissipate the pain and allow me to think again.

Trigger points are difficult to treat. If you try to force them to relax, they will grip and the pain will intensify. The mind almost has a fear of letting go of those painful nodules; it seems as though it works to protect them, those memories of our trauma. Be patient and apply gentle, yet persistent pressure at the point of the pain. Breathe into the tightness and give it permission to fade. The past will be there. The pain will never be forgotten. But you do not have to allow it to keep you bound in agony.