Smile
What Would Make it All Okay?
I used to play this mind game with myself.
I started by thinking it would all be okay if he had to face me. I entertained vicious dreams of inflicting bodily harm in order to make him feel at least a piece of the pain I was experiencing.
But really all that would do was temporarily release the rage while reducing me to the level of a petty crook. And the pain could never compare.
So then I thought that it would all be okay if he was required to spend time in prison. I wanted him to suffer the loss of a life like I had and to be reduced to a bare existence.
But really all that would do was give me a brief respite from the possibility of running into him in public. And it would fuel funny jokes about him dropping the soap.
So I concluded that it would all be okay if he was convicted of the bigamy and had to go through life limited by the label of felon. I wanted his future to be restricted as he destroyed mine.
But all that would do was give me a moment of satisfaction that he was caught.
So I resolved that it would all be okay if I shared his name and picture with the world, shaming him and protecting others from his machinations. I wanted him to face the embarrassment I felt.
But that would only make me look vindictive and would cause me to be ashamed of my own behavior.
So I decided that it would all be okay if he paid me back the tens of thousands of dollars that he stole from my past and robbed from my future. I wanted him to face the fear of living so close to nothing.
But really all that would do is sooth the account woes; the heart would still be shattered.
So then I was emphatic that it would all be okay if I received an apology letter. I needed to know that he felt guilt and remorse for his actions and for the impact it had on me and our families.
But all that would be is a paper filled with words carrying no more meaning than an essay typed by monkeys.
And still I kept trying.
I played out certain scenarios in my mind and found that each time, the relief would be temporary and greatly lacking.
I finally had to accept the conclusion that there was nothing that could make it all okay.
Nothing that is, except myself.
Okay wasn’t going to come from the courts. Okay wasn’t going to be linked to a bank transfer or prison sentence. Okay wasn’t even going to come from him.
I had to figure out how to create okay on my own.
For me, okay was found in creating meaning and purpose from the pain. It came from sharing my story, not to shame him, but to help others. It came from encouraging dialog about abandonment and marital fraud, hoping to protect others. It came from using my rock bottom as a foundation for a better life.
Ultimately, my okay comes from helping others find their own okay.
Your okay is not out there.
It’s in you.
Claim it.
Ownership
Excuses
Chutes and Ladders
Do you remember the game Chutes and Ladders?
The slow, steady climb to the top of the board?
The delighted squeal that would escape your lips when luck granted you a ladder, bypassing multiple rows in a single move?
The utter helplessness and defeat when that same luck turned and landed you on a chute, plummeting you back to the beginning?
After the divorce, I felt like I was trapped in some twisted version of the game, the final square holding the peace and healing I so desperately desired. For long periods of time, I would trudge slowly through the levels. Not making great progress, but progress nonetheless. Sometimes, I would be blessed with a ladder, a sudden jolt of insight or a pleasing outcome that would elevate my healing to new levels.
And then there were the chutes. The triggers. The memories.
Inevitably, they seemed to appear just when I was feeling confident. Comfortable. As though they fed on optimism.
I would find myself disoriented within their slippery embraces. Only to realize that I was back to the beginning once I regained my senses. Peace once again a far off dream.
Chutes and Ladders is based on an ancient Indian game that was designed to teach Hindu children about karma. The final square symbolized nirvana, the ladders represented virtues and the snakes, the original version of the chutes, were vices. There were fewer ladders than snakes, showing that it is often more difficult to climb than it is to fall. At the end of the game, salvation was granted to the one who made it to the final square while the rest of the players faced rebirth at a lower rung.
Although intended to teach about choice and consequence, the game itself is based entirely upon chance. Fate.
Which makes it easy. But also frustrating.
Because in life, we always have choice.
In life, we can learn from our mistakes.
In life, we can accept where we are in the moment yet always strive to do better.
In life, we can slow the slide and even climb out of the chute.
In life, we can roll the dice but we can also build the ladder.
In life, we become better at climbing the more we do it.
In life, success comes not from watching others fall, but in helping to lift them up.
In life, nirvana is not only the end goal, but is a presence to be found along the journey.
In life, we cannot control every play of the game but we can learn to steer its outcome.
It’s so easy to feel helpless and powerless after divorce, subject to the whims of the dice that may send us back to square one on any given day.
It’s so easy to feel defeated. Tired of the climb when every ladder towards healing seems to be paired with a chute greased with pain.
It’s so easy to fixate on your small patch of real estate on the game board, that you fail to see the bigger picture.
The fact that you are making progress. Maybe not steady. And certainly not linear. But progress.
Peace is possible.
Keep climbing.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 