We are defined by how we act when the going gets tough.
Character doesn’t shine until it is challenged.
And often flaws are concealed until struggle wears away the veneer of perfection.
It’s no surprise that crisis often dissolves a marriage.
That when the going gets tough, many couples instead respond as though the crisis is an ax, cleaving the marriage in two, rather than working together to meet the challenge.
So why is it that when the going gets tough, so many spouses get going?
Different Approaches
When crisis hits, people fall into two groups: those that turn towards the problem and face it head-on and those that turn inward or turn away and try not to look too closely at the carnage. And neither group really understands the other. The turn-aways look at the turn-towards and believe they are giving the struggle too much attention. That if they just focused elsewhere, the problem would diminish in capacity. The facers get frustrated with their more reserved partners, believing that they are ignoring the problem while passively hoping it will disappear.
And when a partnership is comprised of two like-minded spouses, the problem can be even worse. If both people charge towards the problem, there is no energy left for the marriage. The crisis becomes the marriage. When both people turn away, the problem may grow, malignant and untreated.
The reality is that a balance is needed. There are times to charge towards the challenge, sword in hand and ready to do battle. And there are also times when paying too much attention to the problem nurtures your struggle instead of cutting off its oxygen supply. Whether you prefer to face a challenge or look away, make sure you continue to turn towards your partner.
The Strong One
It’s common that when trouble hits, one partner wears the struggle on his or her face while the other reveals little pain to the outside world. The tearful partner can feel alone in his or her grief, interpreting the stoicism of the spouse as an indication of a callous heart. Yet so often, the phlegmatic one is determined to muffle his or her own pain and be the strong one for the other. It’s a cruel twist on the pursuer-distancer dance: the more the crying one sheds tears of isolation and frustration, the more the strong one stuffs the pain down deep. When all the other person wants is to see that their partner is hurting too.
Ideally, both partners feel comfortable exposing their vulnerabilities and fears within the marriage. And take turns being the strong one, supporting the other. We are at out strongest when we lean and support in equal measure.
Coping Tools
We are not all created equal when it comes to ability to face a crisis. Whether from a biological roulette that leaves someone less able to handle stress, or from inadequate resiliency training in childhood, some people have it tougher than others. It’s easy for the spouse with greater coping strategies to shame or blame the other, interpreting a lack of tools as a sign of weakness. And is easy for the struggling spouse to excuse her or her struggles as a byproduct of chance or childhood rather than accepting the limitations and then taking responsibility for learning how to do better.
Some people have it easier than others when the going gets tough. But we all can learn to do better.
It’s always nice when someone offers to carry our bags for us. There’s a relief that comes from shifting that burden; a sense of freedom when the weight is lifted. But when it comes to relationships, your baggage is your problem. Whether you have residual anger that flares when provoked, fear of betrayal or abandonment or irrational overreactions from triggers buried in your past, it is up to you to address them.
No Pining Allowed
It’s natural to miss your ex at times. Perhaps they had traits your new partner lacks or maybe you shared a different connection. Watch those thoughts. If you are yearning for your past, you will miss your present. Whatever was is over. Be where you are.
You Must Perfect the Art of Compromise
Marriages that occur later in life can be more complicated, as two full and separate worlds come together. Each partner may be less flexible and more set on his or her ways than in a first marriage. If you want to share your life with someone, you will have to adapt. You will have to let go in order to let in.
Vulnerability and Intimacy May Be a Struggle
Both of you have probably been wounded. Perhaps deeply. Once you have been hurt, it’s tempting to build ramparts to ensure that you are never attacked again. But a marriage requires vulnerability to survive. In a second marriage, it can be an ongoing struggle to trust enough to open up. The effort is worth it.
Your Spouse is Your Partner, Not Your Savior
It’s easy to project the “white knight” persona onto the person that helps us see love and light again. It’s important to remember, however, that your spouse can’t save you. They can only hold your hand while you save yourself. And that can make your second marriage even better.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“But I just wanted to be happy,” my couldn’t-be-ex-quickly-enough whined to the police officer in the interview room where he was being questioned for bigamy.
“That doesn’t give you an excuse to commit a felony,” the officer responded. I could hear him shaking his head in disbelief as he related this encounter to me on the phone later that day.
It brings up an interesting question though – when is it okay to cause distress to others on your own path to self fulfillment?
Your first impulse may be, “never.” Yet, we are not responsible for another’s happiness and we are in charge of our own. And there are times when you may have to step on some toes in order to make the changes that you need to make for you.
And it’s actually more harmful to engage in the people-pleasing (or cowardly) dance around the toes than to be honest and upfront from the beginning. When we try to protect people from our truth, we are acting as gatekeepers, something no relationship on common footing should ever have. Additionally, in trying to avoid hurting anyone, you create an environment seeded for deception (if you do want you want and lie about it to protect the other or yourself) or contempt and resentment (if you don’t follow your dreams and you blame your partner for your circumstances).
There are times when you have to step on some toes. Bruise some egos. Utter words that you know will lead to tears. And maybe even make a decision that causes a heart to break.
It’s not your job to ensure that your partner never feels pain. It’s not your role to act as security guard for your partner’s ego. And it’s not your responsibility to protect your partner’s cheeks from tears.
There are times that you may have to step on some toes in order to find your happiness.
But you are responsible for ensuring that you step as gently as possible. (Unlike my ex, who pretty much tap danced in combat boots over everyone in his life.)
If you are feeling unfulfilled in your life and you suspect that the pursuit of your own happiness will end up hurting others, here is what you need to consider if you want to tread as lightly as possible:
Don’t Be Impulsive
We all get irritated at times. We all reach a breaking point where eruptions are inevitable. This is not the time to throw out some news that will hurt your partner. Wait until you are calm and deliberate. Words can never be erased.
Speak Your Truth Clearly
Say it as it is. Provide the basics and only elaborate if asked.
Do Not Spread Blame
Even if you see your partner as responsible, this is not the time to point fingers. Own your part. And make sure you’re not on a snipe hunt for happiness. Not only is that not fair to your partner, you will never find what you’re looking for.
Be Patient
This may be old news to you, but it’s a breaking headline to your partner. Give them the time and space needed to adjust.
Accept That Some Pain is Inevitable
You can’t keep your partner from hurting. Offer comfort if it is welcome and don’t censor or try to minimize the pain.
Strive to Not Respond to Anger
When we are surprised and in pain, we often lash out. Try to not respond to anger; it won’t lessen the impact of your announcement.
Enlist Professional Help If Needed
Whether the news is delivered in a counseling office or a therapist is secured after-the-fact, recognize that help may be needed.
Listen and Keep an Open Mind
You may have reached a conclusion on your own. Be willing to listen to your partner. First, so that they can feel understood and also because you may find an alternative you did not consider.
And I discourage bigamy; you’ll find the police aren’t very sympathetic:)
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 