Why “How Could You Do This to Me?” Is the Wrong Question to Ask

Posted on by stilllearning2b
how could you

I was a playlist on repeat.

“How could he do this to me?” I wailed to my dad as he made sure I was restrained by the seatbelt before racing off to the airport to escort me to the ruins of my once-placid life.

“How could he do this to me?” I cried to my mom, recalling how she always stated she found comfort in knowing that my husband looked after me.

“How could you do this me?” I whimpered on my husband’s voicemail as he continued to avoid my calls. I screamed it into the phone hours later.

“How could you do this me?” I carved into my journal imagining I was carving into his flesh instead.

“How could you do this to me?” I keened silently from the cold courtroom chair as I scanned his face for any sign of the man I had loved.

It seemed like the most pressing question. Holding an elusive answer just out of reach that, once found, would make sense of the senseless pain. I struggled to comprehend how someone that had only recently professed his love could instead act with such apparent malice.

The question consumed me. Engulfed me. Propelled me.

But all along, it was the wrong question to ask.

—–

It’s a normal question. We personalize. Internalize. When we’re feeling the impact of somebody’s actions, we can’t unfeel them. And those emotions are struggling to understand as our expectations are rudely slammed into an undesired reality.

It’s also a pointless question. One that rarely gets answered and even more infrequently, answered with any truth and clarity.

Because the reality is that the person didn’t act with the intention of doing this to you. Instead, they acted for them.

And you just happened to be in their way.

 

Here are the questions to ask instead:

What did they have to gain by doing this? What discomfort did they seek to avoid?

I was actually relieved when I discovered that my husband had committed bigamy. It was the first moment when I realized that his actions said way more about him than about me. It gave me a glimpse into his hidden world, where he was trying to escape the shame of a failed business and was trying to create a fictitious world where he was successful. Yes, he lied to me. But he lied more to avoid facing the truth himself. I was able to see his actions from his perspective, each choice either serving to bring him enjoyment or to offer him relief.

People act to move towards pleasure or, even more frequently, to move away from pain. Take yourself out of the picture for a moment. What did they have to gain from their actions? How did their choices help them avoid discomfort?

Yes, it’s selfish to act for your own benefit without considering others. And being selfish may be their character flaw. But selfish is a sign that they acted without regard for you not that they sought to do this to you.

Understanding their motivations goes a long way towards releasing the anger. It doesn’t excuse their choices. But it does help to unravel them and in turn, release you.

Why did I not notice? Why did I allow this?

Disorienting is an understatement. I stood in the property impound room beneath the police station as the policeman pulled out my husband’s everyday workbag. Inside, there was a wallet I had never seen filled with cards that were foreign. A camera soon followed, a duplicate of the one he had in his other life. The entire bag was a mix of the achingly familiar and the shockingly new.

I was confronted with the reality that my husband had been living a duplicitous life for years. Maybe even ALL of our years. And I had been clueless.

His actions were his problem. My ignorance was mine.

If you were decieved and manipulated, dig into the reasons that you were blind to reality. Like me, were you too afraid to face the truth and so you didn’t look too closely? Or were you pretending that all was okay and distracting yourself to maintain the illusion?

If you knew that you were being treated badly, why did you tolerate it? Had you been taught in childhood that you were lucky to receive any attention, even if it was negative? Were you afraid of being alone, opting for the devil you know?

These are big questions and ones often rooted in childhood or in trauma.It’s worth spending time here (maybe with the help of a counselor), especially if you want to avoid a repeat.

What am I feeling now? Is it all directly related or is some of it associated with past trauma being triggered?

I was on a mission. Needing information, I ran background reports. I combed through scraps of paper and old pay stubs looking for any relevant information. Driven, I triangulated his whereabouts using our checking account and used Google Earth to get a street view of his other wife’s home. I had one goal – to see him face the legal consequences for his actions.

It was all ultimately a distraction. If I focused on the detective work and the state of the pending legal action, I didn’t have to focus on me. On my pain. And on what I was going to do about it.

Are you focusing in the wrong direction? Maybe you’re busy attacking the other woman instead of looking at your marriage. Perhaps you’re busy going on the offensive for your day in court so that you don’t have to look within your own courtyard.

Be with your feelings. All of them. Even the ugly ones. Listen to them and then you can send them on their way.

Once I invited my feelings in, I was surprised to realize how much of my pain was only tangentially related to my husband’s disappearance. And how much was related to my own father’s perceived disappearance many years before.

It was an opportunity. A crossroads.

I could either ignore this triggered response only to have it return later.

Or I could address it. And work to understand how it impacted my adult choices and behaviors.

Stuff was done to you. What you do with it is up to you.

How will this impact me going forward? What do I need to do to move on?

“I need to find a way to make some good come from this,” I stated in a moment of profound clarity on the day I received the text that ended my life as I knew it. I had no idea how I was going to make that happen, but I knew on some level that creating something positive was going to be my key to survival. To thriving.

I had no idea just how hard that road was going to be. That even seven years on, I would still struggle to differentiate between true threats and echoes of the past. I have had to become an expert on my own healing, learning my triggers and becoming a master at disarming them.

Become a specialist in you. Explore your trouble spots and experiment with ways to strengthen them until you find what works. Be attentive to you. Be proactive. And most of all, be determined.

This is a defining moment in your life. You decide what it defines.

How can I avoid being in this position again? What are my lessons I need to learn?

A part of me – a BIG part of me – was surprised to see my fairly new boyfriend at the airport to pick me up. I had assumed that since my husband deemed it suitable to abandon me while I was visiting family, a recent beau would certainly follow suit.

I was operating from a place where abandonment was presumed. And if that mindset persisted, so would the discarding.

Instead of focusing on what happened, shift your attentions to what you can learn from what happened. They’re hard lessons, I know. The most important lessons always are.

Your power comes from choosing how you respond. And every bad moment is an opportunity to learn to respond a little better.

How can I turn this into a gift?

When I look at my life now, I am profoundly grateful for what happened years ago. I’m thankful for the shock. For the pain. For the confusion. And even for the anger. Because all of that has led to a much better place – a much happier place – than I could have ever imagined.

This is a hard question. Perhaps the hardest.

It seems impossible when you’re choking on the pain that it can actually help you learn to breathe. But it can.

Be patient. And be persistent.

Because finding the gifts hidden beneath is the best gift you can give yourself.

So that one day, instead of saying, “How could you do this to me?” you can say –

Thank you for doing this to me.

And mean it.

 

Are You Tired of Hearing, “It Will Be Okay”?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
be okay

“It will be okay” is sometimes a platitude, uttered in ignorance by people who have not ever tried on your shoes, much less walked in them. And that pat phrase, along with its twin, “You’re never given more than you can handle,” can spark ire in the one who is in the midst of the very-much-not-okay and there-is-no-way-I’ll-be-able-to-handle-this. It those cases, “It will be okay” feels dismissive, empty, hollow. A brush off followed by a watering down.

But those speaking in ignorance aren’t the only ones to share that phrase. Others come from a place of experience. They’ve been on the floor amongst the ruins of their life. They’ve lost everything and felt that overwhelming ache of the unfilled void. As they listen to your cries, they are transportated back to their own fresh pain (when nothing ever felt like it would be okay again) and they contrast it with where they are today (okay or even better).

And when they tell you, “It will be okay,” they’re speaking from experience. Not ignorance.

Sometimes we think of “okay” as “the same as it was.” And that will obviously never happen. In my mind, “okay” means adaptation to the change, accepting what is and building upon that base. “Okay” doesn’t mean that there isn’t loss, that there isn’t pain. It means that the loss is no longer all-consuming and the pain is no longer your identity. “Okay” doesn’t undo what was done, it doesn’t erase the past. “Okay” is a place of hope, a whisper that tells you one more breath, one more step. “Okay” means that the way you feel right now is not the way you will always feel because everything changes, even pain. “Okay” says that no matter what has happened, you can still find happiness and peace.

Everything really will be okay.

Fixer-Upper Relationships – What You Need to Know!

Posted on by stilllearning2b

What area do you want to live?

How much do you want to spend?

And how much work are you willing to do?

Those are usually the first three questions a real estate agent asks a person in the market for a new house. And perhaps the response to the last is the most telling.

Some people look at house that has some functional deficits or is in need of a complete overhaul as chance to create what they what. A challenge, yes. But also an opportunity.

Others want to move into a ready-made house. Open door, insert family. Perhaps because of limitations of time, money or skill, they are reticent to consider a property in need of renovation to bring it up to their expectations.

Those in the second group usually get their wish at first. They find something brand new and stylish or luck into finding and falling in love with the renovations that previous tenants have undertaken.They quickly add the finishing touches that make the house a home and settle in. And for a time, all is well.

It happens gradually. The AC goes on the fritz. The paint colors no longer inspire. The wood floors start to show some wear and practically beg to be refinished. A passing storm pummels the roof, leaving tears in the once tightly-locked shingles. Or maybe it’s less the structure and more the space. That inconsequential guest bathroom is no longer large enough once the kids arrive. You find yourself cursing that awkward corner in the kitchen.

The house that was once move-in ready has started to demand attention.

To need fixing.

For those that truly fear repair, they may use this as an opportunity to leave the old house and find a new and perfect one.

For those that fear change, they may simply turn a blind eye to the house and ignore its needs (as well as their own).

And the others? They begin to see that at some point and in some ways, every house is a fixer-upper. And that rather than trying to find the perfect house, it’s more about finding the house whose quirks are permissible and putting in some elbow grease to make the rest shine.

Those same contrasting viewpoints follow into the dating world.

—–

Some people are looking for that perfect person with an expectation that if it’s right, it will just work. No effort required. Any sign of cracks or peeling paint is seen as a problem and may result in a new search or a blind eye turned.

I had that view the first time around. And it made any discord or disagreement a very scary thing. A potentially fatal flaw in the foundation. While dating, I first looked for move-in ready men, those that seemed to have all their cobwebs dusted and scuff marks polished.

They never lasted.

What I only realized later is that every single relationship falls into the fixer-upper category.

That’s right. There is no such thing as a move-in ready relationship.

Because even those people that appear perfect on the surface have flaws just below. Every person has areas where you will be easily compatible and those where you will have to figure some things out. Just like how you figured out how to finally utilize that awkward corner in the kitchen. Every person brings their own childhood issues to the table and sometimes they will come to the forefront.

We are all fixer-uppers.

We are always fixer-uppers.

That’s not a flaw; it’s an opportunity.

And the opportunities are multiplied when those two fixer-uppers move in together.

Every relationship will face wear and tear and require some elbow grease. Every partnership will be tested and may require occasional reinforcement. There will be times when you feel hemmed in by the walls and other times when they feel comfortable and cozy and welcoming.

It’s about choosing the one whose flaws you can live with and learning how to make the rest shine. It’s about going in with realistic expectations that everything changes over time. It’s about maintaining perspective during those stints when everything seems to be breaking down and expressing appreciation when it goes well. It’s about learning together, trying and trying something new when that doesn’t work.  It’s about learning to tell the difference between do-it-yourself repairs, those that require a professional and those that signal that it should be condemned.

And it’s about choosing every day to put in the effort. To build. And rebuild.

 

 

I Wonder

Posted on by stilllearning2b
wonder

My ex had a birthday recently. His 39th.

I wonder if he’s still alive. At the end of it all, he seemed to be on a collision course with an early death.

I wonder if any wrinkles or grey hairs have started to appear. I used to look forward to growing old with him.

I wonder if he still lives in the area. I hope not. In fact, I would like it if he took a job at the research station in Greenland. Or maybe started growing potatoes on the moon.

I wonder if he’s lonely. Or scared. Or still addicted.

I wonder what he thinks about our past. His actions. My reactions.

I wonder if he’s living an honest life now. Or if he’s still playing hide and go seek. Only without the seeking.

I wonder if he’s happy. I hope he is. I had years of wishing him ill. I’m past that now.

It’s such a strange feeling having somebody go from being your every-thing and your constant to suddenly being a no-thing and a gaping absence. I don’t love him. I don’t hate him. I don’t even miss him. But after so many years, it’s hard not to wonder about him.

And I wonder if he ever wonders about me too.

 

And here’s what I really, really, really wish I could tell him.

 

For the entire story, see Lessons From the End of a Marriage.

 

It Stays With You

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Texas has been getting pummeled with repeated rounds of severe storms. And Texans aren’t surprised. Because they’ve come to expect these epic storms. It’s familiar territory.

And once you’ve been a Texan (raises hand), you’ve always been a Texan. With a Texan’s memories and expectations.

These are some pictures of flooding in San Antonio, where I spent my formative years.

From a young age, I was schooled to avoid creeks and low lying areas during any kind of decent rainfall. In driver’s education, we spent the better part of a class learning about the signs of a flooded roadway and the repercussions of ignoring those signs. This was harder than you may imagine, as the literal measuring sticks at flood-prone intersections usually ended up underwater themselves. Even before I started driving, I learned alternate routes through the city that avoided the roads that had a tendency to submerge. That included a stretch of I-10 through downtown.

As a child, I watched with horror the footage of a school bus swept off the road by raging floodwaters, teenagers desperately grasping onto trees awaiting helicopter rescue. When I went tubing down the Guadalupe River every summer, I would stare up, way up, at the high water marks on the trees and rocks. I was stranded by water several times, unable to leave the house or unable to return.

As you can imagine, this stayed with me.

Even though Atlanta’s soil is actually permeable (unlike the slooow-draining limestone under a dusting of dirt that supports San Antonio), I still react defensively when the rain starts pounding. I mentally catalog potentially flooded roadways (a rarity here) and think about the closest high ground.

When my ex (also from San Antonio) and I purchased our first home in Atlanta, we viewed it with Texas eyes and insisted upon full coverage flood insurance even though we were not officially in a flood plain. We didn’t care. We saw that small, tame creek and didn’t trust it. Because we had both witnessed the incredible transformation of trickles into torrents in mere moments. In our ten years there, we never did use that insurance (although the flood map was redrawn a few years before we left and the house was deemed to be in the flood plain. Validation:) )

Of course, we didn’t buy the insurance with the expectation of using it. We bought it just in case. Protection against an unlikely but previously experienced outcome.

I didn’t have cheating, lying husband insurance.

Perhaps I should have. But that was an unexpected storm, one that I had never experienced and never saw coming.

One that I have now experienced.

And it stays with me.