Common Challenges in Post-Divorce Relationships

Posted on by stilllearning2b
relationships dating divorce

Post-divorce relationships are often where the fears of experiencing heartbreak again collide with the hope and heady infatuation of early attachment. These opposing emotional forces, along with any lingering unresolved divorce issues, present certain common challenges in relationships entered into after one or both parties experienced divorce.

 

You meet the right person at the wrong time.

Finding a good match is as much about the timing as it is the person. You may encounter somebody who radiates potential, but if either one of you is not yet ready for a relationship, that potential has to be put on hold. It can be tempting to try to push it; to discount the warning signs that there is still healing work to be done. It’s scary and disheartening to release the possibility of a connection when you have been feeling alone and afraid of finding somebody. Yet sometimes, accepting that the timing isn’t right is exactly what is needed so that you’re not pouring energy into a relationship that is built on unstable ground.

 

You carry over blame or suspicion meant for your ex to your new partner.

If your ex behaved badly, you may be primed to assume that your new partner is also up to something whenever your back is turned. Instead of coming from a place of innocent until proven guilty, you may be operating from a place of assumed guilt where you’re looking for evidence to support your beliefs. This is easy to do. If you’ve been fooled once by a liar or a cheater, you don’t want to ever experience that humiliation and betrayal again. However, there is a big difference between staying alert for bad behavior and assuming that bad behavior is occurring.

 

A fear of further heartbreak or relationship failure hinders – or prematurely ends – the relationship.

The pain that comes from the end of a relationship is brutal and it’s only natural that we act to avoid experiencing similar heartbreak again. A healthy approach to this is to address the factors that led to the divorce and to learn to accept that sometimes relationships serve their purpose and come to an end. Yet, more commonly, the fear of further pain prompts a person to leave before they’re left, making an exit before the attachment – and the predicted pain – becomes too strong.

 

You expect the new relationship to be as intimate and fulfilling as a marriage from the very beginning.

After divorce, the loneliness and isolation are gutting. So when you meet someone and feel those initial sparks fly, you become hopeful that the loneliness is over and that you again have someone that will truly see and appreciate you. Yet, this neglects to acknowledge that building a relationship and a shared history takes time. It’s not fair to expect that level of a connection in the beginning; you have to provide it with the opportunity to grow.

 

You are expecting the new relationship to heal you and to fill in the gaping void you’ve felt since divorce.

If you believe Hollywood, all you need is the right person to come into your life when you’re down and everything will be better. There’s a reason that these stories are presented as fiction; it doesn’t happen that way. There are certain post-divorce wounds that can only be healed within the context of a relationship (not necessarily a romantic one), but the work is still yours to do.

 

You are afraid of being open and vulnerable again, so you only let them in so much before the walls come up.

When we’re afraid, sometimes we fight, sometimes we flee, and sometimes we simply freeze. The latter is what happens when you feel too exposed in a new relationship and so you tuck yourself away behind carefully constructed barricades, built in an attempt to protect the heart from further assault. Although this strategy does limit risk, it also inhibits growth and fulfillment. It’s much like an attempt to learn to swim while refusing to get out of the shallow end of the pool.

 

You mistake the intensity of early attraction as the sign that you’ve found the “right one.”

In a long marriage, the intensity of the initial attraction inevitably fades over time. And so when you experience that jolt of biochemical desire again, it sends a powerful message. It’s easy to interpret this common biological response as a sign that this is the right person for you. By all means, enjoy the surge of passion and excitement, yet refrain from making any major decisions until you’ve given your body chemistry time to normalize.

 

You overreact to benign situations because it triggers memories from your marriage.

There will be times when you and your new partner are reading from different scripts. They may think that you’re arguing over something in the present while you’re whisked backwards in time and replaying a role from your marriage. These moments are challenging in a new relationship because the person who is triggered is flooded with emotion and if that continues unaddressed, it threatens to drown the new partnership as well.

 

You grasp onto a relationship that isn’t working because you want to avoid another ending.

Sometimes, we fall prey to the belief that someone is better than no-one. We will grasp onto a relationship not because we love the person, but because we fear being without a person. This is one of the main reasons for the advice to spend some time single before you enter into a new relationship. If you know that you’re okay alone, you’re much less likely to stay with somebody just for the sake of being coupled.

 

You attribute everything that was wrong in your marriage to your ex and expect everything to be instantly better with a new person.

Choosing the right person is certainly important. But it’s not everything. No matter what went wrong in your marriage, it is your responsibility to identify and address areas where you can do better. If you don’t, you may find that similar patterns continue to play out in future relationships, no matter who you choose to partner with.

 

Jealousy of former partners or relationships poisons the new connection.

It can be strange entering into a relationship with somebody that had an entirely other life – and love(s) – before you. It can be threatening to see evidence of this former life. Depending upon the situation, ex-spouses may even be a part of the new relationship. It takes a certain amount of maturity to recognize and accept that these early loves can coexist with your new one.

 

You compare your new partner to your ex.

It’s only natural to compare two different people who fill a similar role in your life. Yet comparison can be damaging if it impedes on your new partner’s ability to be accepted as their own person with their own inherent strengths and weaknesses. They will not be the same as your ex. In some facets, they will be a dramatic improvement and in others, they may be lacking. It’s up to you to select someone who has the characteristics that you deem critical and it’s up to you to not expect them to meet all of the positive traits that your ex possessed.

 

You experience an increased complexity in joining established lives.

If you married young, commingling two lives was probably relatively simple. That’s not the case in post-divorce relationships, with their higher bank accounts and debts, increased responsibilities and commitments and maybe even children or an ex that is still in the picture because of shared responsibilities. These external demands and restrictions are very real and can add a significant amount of challenge to a post-divorce relationship.

 

Common relationship challenges and transition points cause panic that the end is nearing.

Especially if the end of your marriage came as a surprise, you may find yourself panicking anytime your new relationship hits a rocky patch. This is tricky, because you want to take these signs seriously, yet if you overreact, you may end up sabotaging what you’re trying to save. It may take some practice to approach these issues with the right amount of energy and attention.

 

None of these common post-divorce challenges are insurmountable. Love after divorce is not only possible, you may even find that it’s better than before.

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Apart in Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b
growing apart

We were inseparable for the better part of ten years.

We met at the age of four at a Mother’s Day Out group at our church. I remember being drawn to her pigtails, her white-blond cornsilk hair reminded me of one of my dolls and stood in contrast to my much wilder and darker mane. By the time we were in first grade, we had graduated to official “best friend” status, proudly advertised on our silver James Avery half-heart charms worn on matching chains around our necks.

We did everything together. Completed each other’s sentences and knew the other’s every wish. The other kids seemed to understand that we were a package deal – make one friend and get another one free. Our friendship navigated the transition to middle school where afternoons spent catching toads were replaced with evenings endlessly dissecting interactions with the boys. Even as we took our first shaky steps into relationships with the opposite sex, we would always return to each other to seek advice and approval.

But then high school happened and those small differences that has always existed between us were suddenly magnified. My preference for Metallica drew me towards an older crowd and her love of the stage pulled her into theater. Our classes, which had rarely ever been together, were suddenly on opposite halls and our lockers were assigned in different buildings. Over the span of a semester, we went from being inseparable to being casual friends who largely moved in separate circles.

There was some sadness. I would see her under the lights on stage, those cornsilk pigtails now released into a shining wave down her back, and remember how familiar she once was to me. There were moments when I would see her name in its first-place position on my speed dial and would mourn for the connection that we shared.

Yet even with the pinch of grief that would tag along with my memories, I understood that this transition was natural.

We had simply grown apart.

Our interests, our goals and eventually, our experiences, meant that we no longer occupied the same space. And even though it was sad, it was okay. We each had our own path to take and we could remember with fondness those years when our paths converged.

Why is it that we treat marriage so differently than other relationships? We acknowledge that friendships grow and recede, changing over time, yet we fear our marriages being anything but static, constant. When we sense that our partners are growing away from us and we catch a glimpse of diverging paths, we respond with panic or a quiet denial instead of acceptance.

We accuse them of no longer being the person that we married, beg them to stay the same as they were. We project our own discomfort with change onto their shoulders, penalizing them for wanting to change direction.

It’s sad when two people who were once so compatible begin to grow in opposite directions. It’s painful to be presented with the choice of following your heart and moving in a new direction or silencing your heart in order to preserve a relationship. You may secretly crave a reason to end the relationship, struggling to acknowledge that it has outlived its usefulness when there is nothing identifiably wrong with it.

You fear breaking hearts, yet your heart is breaking every time you feel like you have to make a choice between your partner and your purpose.

There are no easy choices when a couple has grown apart. Choose to stay and you and your partner risk feeling diminished and stifled. Attempt to renegotiate the marriage and you may find that the terms are not agreeable or that they are not sufficient to mitigate the growing distance. Walk away and you invite loneliness and regret even as you move towards your light.

This is not to say that marriage should be discarded as easily as a shirt once fashion changes. There is a commitment. A promise. Ideally, core values and goals are still in alignment and individual growth can occur within the supportive structure of the marriage.

But that is not always possible. The couple that met through faith and always held religion as the cornerstone of their union will be rocked if one partner disavows their church. Or, if two people came together with the express wish of starting a family and one later decides to remain childless, the bedrock has been fractured. You can fight the situation, but your protests will only go so far.

I often learn about acceptance through nature. My backyard is comprised of a small oval of grass surrounded by trees and shrubs. Most of them happily grow together towards the sun, leaning against each other for support and generously sharing the sunnier spaces. Or, they renegotiate, sharing the same soil yet bending their stems in different directions in order to both have their needs met.

Some become bullies, so concerned about their own needs that they shade out those around them. Others allow themselves to be shaded, giving up their own potential for growth with barely a whimper. I rarely intervene, but when I see a plant failing to reach its potential because of its location, I feel obligated to step in and either move the limbs that are blocking the light or replant the stifled one in a more favorable location. I don’t brand this intervention as “failure,” it doesn’t indicate a problem with the individual plantings. It’s simply something that needs to happen for growth to continue.

Yet marriage is more important than a bunch of flowers looking for their own stream of sunlight. We build lives together, share dreams and fears as we layer years of shared experiences. There is a vision of a shared future, moving forward along the same trajectory that was envisioned from the beginning.

And yet…

Change is inevitable. And sometimes endings are as well. There are times when the kindest action is to honor when your paths converged and allow them to continue along their own course.

 

Taking the Long View

Posted on by stilllearning2b
long view divorce debt

Yesterday was a big day for me.

After two decades of carrying the burden, I finally paid off the last of my student loans.

I have to say, I was a little disappointed in Discover’s response to the zero balance. I wasn’t expecting anything too major, maybe just some balloons dropping down from the ceiling, applause coming through the speakers on my computer and a moderately-sized parade in front of the house. As it was, I had to make do with a sentence sandwiched between the ads for a credit card and a personal loan: “Congratulations. The balance on your student loan account is now zero.”

It’s been a long journey getting to this point. Much longer than planned-for or anticipated.

Life is funny that way.

And in so many ways, this slog back to financial health mirrored the emotional healing from divorce.

I don’t know what my credit score was on the day my world exploded. I refused to look. The last time I had checked, it was just above the 800 mark. But that was before my then-husband maxed out my credit cards, stopped paying my student loans and took out additional credit lines in my name.

I considered bankruptcy. The financial counseling session that I was required to complete as part of the pre-qualitification for the process left such a sour taste in my mouth. The advisor kept questioning my claims about my budget, unable to understand how I ended up in such a mess with a relatively frugal spending pattern. No matter how many times I explained what my husband had done, she didn’t seem to get it.

She blamed me. And I blamed me too.

Not for spending the money, but for being so stupid as to allow it happen without my notice.

So I hung up and took out a pad of paper to work out how I could pay back the money on my teacher salary without resorting to filing for bankruptcy.

I had to be strategic, although I wanted nothing more than for all of those debts to be instantly reduced to zero (and for my checking account to rise above sea level since he had left me with a negative balance). Silently, I yearned for my credit score to again be solid, instead of the shamefully low number that I knew I carried as a virtual scarlet letter, branding me as someone who didn’t have it together.

Over the next five years, I slowly and steadily paid off his parting gifts – a sum total of $80,000, if you include the legal fees that he was ordered to pay and never did. Three years after he left, I finally summoned the nerve to check my credit score. It wasn’t good, but I knew it was better than it had been.

I understood that this wasn’t a quick fix. It may have been destroyed in an instant, but rebuilding was a long game.

But even then, with the bulk of the debt resolved, it wasn’t over. The foreclosure (yet another gift from my ex and a legal system ill equipped to deal with manipulators), still pulled down my credit score, an anchor to the past. And the student loans, which were supposed to be paid off (according to the financial plan I had with my then-husband) in 2012, had instead been relegated to minimum payments in order to focus on the accounts with higher interest rates first.

Last year, the foreclosure dropped off my record, instantly catapulting my credit score almost 70 points. And then yesterday, I wiped out the student loans, which should bring me back up to my starting place of just over 800.

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It’s taken 9 years and 51 days to get here (But who’s counting?). There were certainly improvements along the way, some major and some so small that they were barely noticeable. But until yesterday, I didn’t feel as though it was “done.”

And that’s how the emotional work felt as well. I wanted it to be resolved quickly. I told myself that once the legal process was over, I would refrain from looking back.

Yet just as the foreclosure pulled down my credit score, the divorce still weighed down my heart.

It was a long, slow climb back to emotional health and stability. Some days brought great improvement. Most heralded imperceptible improvements. And still others sent me tumbling backwards, leaving me bruised and fearful that I would never make the climb.

Yet, at some point, it happened. Unlike with the financial health, I don’t have a single event that I can point to where I was informed, “Congratulations. The balance on your emotional trauma has now reached zero.” But I can look back at my writing and see a difference. In 2016, there were still posts where I was struggling with trust and abandonment and vulnerability. In 2017, those are absent. And that continues. That doesn’t mean that life is always easy, but it does indicate that I am no longer responding to the events from the past.

Healing from anything requires taking the long view. It demands patience and persistence, especially in those times when progress feels sluggish and uncertain.

Keep at it. One day you’ll be able to look back and realize that it’s no longer a reality, simply a memory.

The (Unspoken) Truth About Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When asked about the state of their union, people often feel like they have to defer to one of two responses:

“It’s all good,” or, “It’s over.”

Yet the reality is that most marriages spend much of their time between these two extremes. Where some things are good, some areas are taut with tension and loving thoughts are interspersed with feelings of frustration or even disengagement. And by neglecting to talk about the reality of marriage, we leave those in completely-normal-and-not-always-ideal marriages feeling unsure and isolated.

 

Even the best marriages have bad days.

Or weeks. Even months. Whether from external pressures or changes prompted by internal struggles, there will be times when things are not good. There may be spans of silence, a lingering sense of tension in the air after a difficult conversation or nights spent lonely in separate beds.

When these bad days occur, it can be easy to catastrophize. To assume that a bad day indicates a bad marriage and that this is a sign that the end is near. One partner may be more prone towards panicking, attempting to grasp on in a desperate attempt to stop the imagined slide downhill. This often has the opposite effect, as the one who is latched upon feels increasingly trapped and becomes desperate for escape.

Some bad days pass on their own, especially if their cause is largely centered outside the marriage. Others are a cry for help, a sign that the marriage needs some attention and perhaps modification. And others are just part of the natural ebb and flow of life, expansion followed by contraction. This is one of the reasons that the first year of marriage is often deemed to be one of the most challenging – it follows after the excitement of wedding planning and establishing the relationship. The day-to-day of normal marriage simply can’t live up to that level of expectation.

 

Even the closest couples need time apart.

In the beginning of a relationship, the excitement and novelty leave you counting the minutes until you can be with your newfound love again. It seems impossible that there will ever be a day where you look forward to a trip that takes them out of the home for a few days. But it will happen.

I hear whispered confessions from friends, deeming me a safe receptacle for their secrets, admit to feeling guilty when they let out a little cheer when their spouse pulls out the driveway for a few days of absence. “That’s totally normal,” I reassure them and the relief is palpable.

Too much of anything – or anyone – can easily become too much. With overexposure, appreciation is easily replaced by irritation and small problems begin to accumulate. I like to relate it to ice cream. The stuff is amazing. You maybe even want some every day. But if you have a gallon of it in one sitting, your body is going to rebel. That doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you or the refreshing treat; it simply means that you need a break before you can enjoy it again.

 

Even the most compatible couples can struggle to find connection.

When my now-husband and I were first dating, we lived across town from each other. And in the Atlanta metro area, that’s quite the commute. Since we couldn’t see each other more than once or twice a week, we would spend evenings on the phone, chattering on about anything and everything.

It was easy to find things to talk about – not only did we live our days in largely separate worlds, we were still in the process of learning about the other person. Now, eight years later and sharing the same bedroom on most nights, we can go days without a meaningful conversation. The reasons are multifold. Our lives are more overlapping so there is less to share about the day-to-day. At this point, we’ve divulged and discussed our pasts, our passions and our perspectives and since we’re not yet old enough to be forgetful, there simply isn’t a need to cover the same material again. And we’re busy. The activities that were pushed to the side in those early months of the relationship have again found their place, leaving us with little time to connect during an average week.

As a result, there are times when we can feel disconnected. Like we’re crawling in bed with a virtual stranger, who both knows everything about us and yet we have nothing to talk about. And then, we carve out some time to do something new together, even if it’s as simple as dinner at an untried restaurant. The new environment inevitably sends a current through the relationship, reigniting the spark of connection.

 

Even the most agreeable people will have differences of opinion. 

I love my husband, but there are times I think he must be a visitor from another planet. After all, surely no reasonable adult human could actually think that??? In my first marriage, I let those differences of opinion bother me. I would either take it personally (seeing an attack on my viewpoint as an attack on me), allow my mind to be changed or feel threatened by the disparate stances.

It no longer bothers me so much (Unless it’s about school; I get pretty sensitive when people who are not in the academic sphere try to tell me about modern-day school issues.) when we have opposing viewpoints. In fact, I’m more likely to find it interesting (Why do you think that way?) or humorous than threatening. I have learned that it is possible to both love and support someone even while disagreeing with them.

There are some things that are so important that dissent is a sign of trouble, but for most everything else, a difference of opinion is simply a sign that you are two different people. And that’s a good thing.

 

Even the strongest marriages have periods of renegotiation and transition.

There is an immense about of negotiation and compromise that occurs when a relationship first becomes serious. The amount of togetherness is determined, acceptable interactions with the opposite sex are established and relationship patterns are initiated. That period is widely accepted as a precarious one. Some relationships emerge on the other side, stronger and established, while others fail to effectively negotiate a path.

What is less discussed are the inevitable transitions that occur throughout a marriage. As children come and go, job responsibilities shift and health crises seemingly come out of nowhere, the established roles and routines may longer be appropriate. And because we’re creatures of habit and we universally fear loss, these renegotiations are often even more difficult than the initial shift into commitment.

These times of transition are stressful and we often struggle to find the words to describe them adequately. We are uncomfortable with change and with making space for the unknown, especially when our most intimate relationship is threatened. Yet those same uncertain times that scare us also provide us with the most opportunity for growth.

 

Even the most reasonable parters will sometime respond irrationally. 

I am normally a very rational, even analytical, woman. Unless I’m poised at the top of a hill. At which point, I turn into a blubbering child. My husband knows this about me, and so he lovingly becomes extra-patient with me in those moments. My thoughts on a hilltop are not rational, but they are real. At least to me and in that moment.

Most people aren’t as afraid of downhills as I am (thank goodness, or whole industries would be wiped out), but we all have our particular triggers that cause us to behave irrationally and emotionally. And when you’re married to that overreacting person, it’s hard to suppress the urge to declare, “Just what in the hell is wrong with you?” and to respond instead with a combination of compassion and encouragement.

And here’s the hard part – unless we share the same emotional triggers as someone else, it is difficult (if not impossible) to understand where that person is coming from. And when that person is your spouse, that is a frustrating pill to swallow.

 

Even the most loving unions will have times where love is dormant. 

Love is more about action than feeling. There will be times when you don’t feel an overwhelming sense of love or affection for your partner. Some days, irritation and annoyance speak so loudly that they drown out the soft utterances of fondness. The love isn’t gone, but it’s quiet.

It’s important how couples respond to each other in these difficult times. There can be respect even without understanding. Kindness even in the absence of fondness. Tolerance when cooperation is lacking. And above all, a willingness to listen for the sleeping love and the patience to wait for it to stir once again.

 

Related:

Why I Don’t Want a Perfect Marriage

A Growth Mindset in Marriage

A Facebook Marriage: Keep the Smile On Or Else

 

 

 

Love Testing

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Love testing.

It’s one of the reasons that teenagers are difficult to deal with. Before they take the leap out into the adult world, they want the security that comes from knowing that you love them unconditionally. Your words and prior actions are often not sufficient for these temperamental creatures. They want reassurances. They want proof.

Operating below the level of full consciousness, they engage in behaviors and make decisions that they know you disapprove of. They often fail to hide these choices and they may even flaunt them. Of course, some of this is fueled by the teenager’s desire for exploration and their lack of a developed prefrontal cortex.

But that’s not the only motivator.

These undesirable actions are often driven by the teenager’s search for the answer to this question –

“Will you still love even if …”

 

And teenagers aren’t the only ones that engage in love testing. Adults, especially those that have been betrayed or abandoned, can utilize this strategy as well in romantic partnerships. Like the teenagers, these adults are seeking reassurances that the past will not repeated. They are testing the strength of the commitment by weighing it down with  ever-increasing challenges. They want security. Promises. Certainty.

And so they test. Maybe treating their partner with disrespect. Or flirting openly with another person. Or letting the weight begin to comfortably settle around the waist. Or continually breaking up only to pick back up again. Or spending just a little more than was agreed upon. Boundaries are nudged and the reactions observed.

Will you still love if…

There are problems with this approach. Partners are not parents. Their love does have its limits. At some point, the weight tied to the commitment will be too much to bear and their acceptance will be be withdrawn. And that point will inevitably be reached because    no matter how many love tests they’ve passed, until you trust in yourself and your ability to handle whatever may comes, it will never be enough to assuage your insecurity. And regardless of how many transgressions the love survives, there is no such thing as certainty in love.

That’s not to say that love should be welcomed without confirmation. The tests will come naturally over time as life presents you with challenges and obstacles. Take this opportunity to observe how they respond – Do they shut down or shut you out? Do they find refuge in the guise of victimhood and point fingers? Or do they see you as a team and work cooperatively towards resolution or acceptance?

Once we’ve been hurt, we will do anything to avoid being hurt again. But love doesn’t work that way.

As I’ve written before, 

Love is all or none.

If you try to hold it at a distance, you end up pushing it away.

If you attempt to control it, you will inevitably strangle it.

If you build walls and hang back out of a fear of being hurt, you are avoiding the very intimacy that is the foundation of a relationship.

If you punish your new partner for the sins of the old, you are wrapping the new in the cloak of the past.

If you assume that this partner will also hurt you, you are more likely to be hurt again. After all, the dog that you expect to bite often does.

Love is always a risk. Whether you’ve been hurt before or not.

It’s just that those of us who have felt the anguish of an end know exactly what it is we are risking.

And you may decide that it’s not for you. That you’re happier alone and don’t want the risk or the compromises again.

That’s okay. Life is not one size fits all. Tailor your life to your specifications.

But if you do decide you want to let love in, you have to be ready to embrace it. Risks and all.

That ten-foot pole may make you feel safer, but all it’s really doing is keeping love at arm’s length.

Love is all or none.