So you thought you were safe? You survived the holiday season and you were beginning to settle back into normalcy. And then… Wham! Back with the sappy commercials. Out come the gaudy decorations. The messages of material happiness are yet again bombarding our senses from every direction.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Read the rest here. And then have a great day!
“Will I ever trust again?” I asked, turning towards my dad in the aftermath of the day the marriage died.
My voice trembled along with the rest of my body, a pleading tone hoping for a positive response.
His eyes teared, he pulled me in for a hug. “I don’t know but I sure hope so.”
It wasn’t the response I wanted, but it was honest. And honest was what I needed.
Over the next weeks and months, I asked that question of my mom, my family, my friends, my journal.
And every response was the same.
“I don’t know.”
How do you recover from betrayal by the person closest to you? How do you move forward without armor so thick that no one will ever make it through? How do you ever put faith in another person after doing so destroyed your world and you in the process?
You begin with yourself.
Intimate betrayal is an attack on two fronts. The first wound comes from the one who betrayed you, the piercing pain when you realize that he or she was sliding the blade into your back with every embrace. The second comes from within, as you begin to doubt yourself, your worth and your senses.
And you have to heal them both.
Before you can ever trust another, you have to learn to trust in yourself.
And that begins with trusting your strength to see you through.
If you believe that you are not strong enough to survive something, you will turn away from any indications that speak of impending disaster. The only way you will be receptive to reality is if you know you can handle it. Remember times that you have revealed your strengths. Celebrate those. Create smaller challenges in your life and master them. Write your story and cast yourself as strong and brave. Don’t let your betrayer create your character; you have the power to mold yourself in an image of fortitude and perseverance. Learn to see yourself as a survivor and thriver rather than a victim. You are the phoenix, not the ashes.
You can make it through anything.
Believe it. And it’s true.
And, once you know that you can survive, you’re ready to learn to listen, to see. Not with the fears of the past or the worries of the future, but with the truth of today.
Check in with your gut. If your intuition speaks, listen. Remember, there is nothing it can say that you cannot handle. Be present in your life, check words against actions. Trust that you will be okay even if someone’s actions indicate a problem. When learning to trust another, move slowly, letting out a little rope each time. Watch to see if they hang themselves but also be careful not to do it for them. If you act as though the past is on repeat, it will be replayed. See with the eyes of now, not the pain of yesterday. Sift through your past to find patterns, both in your betrayer and yourself. Learn how to change your responses to interrupt the playbook of the past.
Will you be able to trust again?
Yes.
But it can’t be blind trust, operating on wish alone.
It’s a trust born from strength and intention.
It comes from being present and truthful.
It hopes for the best but does not fear the worst.
It understands that you cannot control another but you can always depend on yourself.
You are strong.
You can be trusted.
Believe in yourself.
As a homework assignment for girl’s weekend this past summer, I was asked to read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. I was fully willing, but somewhat skeptical, since as the only child of a counselor, I was raised on a steady diet of self-help. I think I overdosed.
After the first few pages, my skepticism was replaced with excitement and understanding. This was one book that made sense to me.
The premise is straightforward: four agreements that, if followed, will change your life. The book is short and the agreements are extremely simple, but nowhere near easy. They are applicable to every area of life and manage to be general and still useful all at once. They are interconnected, one always leading to another.
As part of my own work with The Four Agreements, I am drilling down and applying them to various areas of life. I’ve already explored The Four Agreements in marriage and The Four Agreements in wellness. Those were easy applications. After all, those are areas where your intention is to be honest and you want to be your best.
Now, for the hard one — The Four Agreements in divorce. How can these covenants help you navigate such an awful time with more dignity and awareness? Can these promises actually hold true while in midst of a life disintegration? Can they help to provide support and focus intention in those darkest of days?
I think they can.
It can change the way you view your ex and your divorce. And it can help you find peace through the pain.
This one passed with barely any recognition. It was just another day. I only became aware of its familiar form as I was signing passes for students. Yesterday marked what would have been (note: NOT what should have been) the 14th anniversary of my first marriage. And there were no ghosts. No whimpers from the past. No nothing.
It was a day unmarred by bygones and what-ifs.
But it hasn’t always been that way.
Here’s my post from last year’s anniversaries that aren’t:
Today would have been my thirteenth wedding anniversary. Thirteen years ago today, I married my high school sweetheart on an empty beach in Florida. The photos from that day capture the love we had. The youth. The innocence. The promise.
What would have been our tenth anniversary was the hardest. He has left five months prior and we were still legally married. I used a psychiatrist’s appointment as an excuse for a sick day off work (the last day before winter break and a planned trip to San Antonio). After the morning appointment, I took a Xanax (one of three I took during the whole experience) and spent the day in my bed in my friend’s guest room. I distinctly remember not wanting to be alone and feeling reassured that her husband and then her father were going to be there throughout the day. I couldn’t muster up the energy to be social. I don’t think I ever made it down stairs, but I remember listening to the sounds coming in my door. I spent the day in a fugue state – not awake and not asleep. I tried to read, but couldn’t. I tried to sleep, but that eluded me too. I cried. A lot. I wrote. I cried some more. I could not face that anniversary that wasn’t.
By the would-have-been eleventh anniversary, I was in a much better place. I was situated in my own apartment and in the early stages of a new relationship. It was still a very difficult day. A sad day. I went to work. I functioned. But I also broke down and cried a few times. I was afraid to be alone that evening and spent the night at Brock’s. I still mourned what had been lost, but I also saw hope for the future.
Last year, on would be anniversary number twelve, I felt okay. I didn’t feel like I was a damn holding back a wall of sadness that was waiting to crush me. I felt okay. But I didn’t trust it. I remember tiptoeing through the day, as if I might release the pain if I tread too hard. The pain didn’t come. I spent a normal (as normal as a middle school can be) day at work and spent a quiet evening on the couch with Brock.
And today? On lucky number thirteen? I’m alone at the moment and I okay. No, I’m more than okay. I’ve been aware of the date but it hasn’t hurt. I left a note for Brock this morning as this same date is a difficult anniversary for him for different reasons) and I received an image with the following quote from him on my Facebook:
Good relationships don’t just happen. They take time, patience, and people who truly want to be together.
That definitely helps keep any demons at bay:) I came home to Brock and his friend, who just had knee surgery, on the couch laughing and playing Call of Duty. It was a scene that made me smile – two friends helping each other and laughing while doing it. By the time I got back from the gym, Brock was at ju jitsu, where he will be until after I’m asleep (I’m pitiful in the evening). I’m alone on December 18, but I’m not alone. I’ve let people into my heart and they are with me even now. Oh, and Tiger and Maddy too:) It’s hard to feel alone when you have a 90 lb pit bull on your lap!
Anniversaries that aren’t are strange things. They are meaningless and yet we mark them. It’s a time when we used to reflect upon the past years of the relationship. Now that the relationship is over, we find ourselves playing a game of “what if?,” wondering what this day might have looked like otherwise. These anniversaries are so piercing at first, the loss overwhelming and threatening to undo a year’s worth of work. But they don’t have to stay that way. We can let them soften, let them become mere curiosities on the calendar. I see it like a number line. I used to count the positive numbers away from my wedding day. Now, I am on the other side of zero, counting away from my divorce date. I can see today as would-have-been thirteen or I can celebrate it as it-is-three. I bet you can guess which view I choose:)
So, I am wishing myself a happy anniversary. And I am celebrating three years of loving and laughing and learning. That’s an anniversary I can celebrate every year!
And today, yet another year out, I am still celebrating. And wishing all of you happy anniversaries that aren’t.
Many of us will face a personal tsunami at some point in our lives. We will be felled by a great wave bringing with it sudden change and loss. Perhaps your tsunami is in the form of the death of a loved one, maybe it is the loss of a job or a way of life or possibly you have lost the health you took for granted. My own tsunami was in the form of an unexpected divorce after being abandoned via a text message.
Regardless of the nature of your abrupt trauma, tsunamis have some common characteristics. By their nature, tsunamis are difficult to predict and even harder to prepare for. You have to face the realization that you cannot control your surroundings. The world that you knew is gone, swept away in a single move. You feel disoriented as you try to navigate this new realm.
Soon after the trauma, it feels like it will be impossible to rebuild. The odds seem insurmountable. The shock and grief permeate everything and make every move a struggle. Restoration after a sudden trauma is not easy, but it is possible. In fact, you can even learn how to surf your tsunami, moving through it with skill and grace.
The following are my healing tips for anyone who has been flattened by a tsunami.
Breathe
The blow of sudden trauma is physical. The body tenses as if anticipating another blow. The breath is the first to suffer; it becomes shallow and rapid behind a breast wrapped tight in a straightjacket of sorrow. Release it. It won’t be easy and it won’t be automatic, at least in the beginning. Set a reminder on your phone or computer to take several deep breaths at least once an hour. As long as the body is anticipating another blow, the mind will be as well. Sometimes it’s easier to train the body and allow the mind to follow.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 