How to Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself (and Start Feeling Better) After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you relate to any of these feelings after divorce?

“It’s not fair that my family has been torn apart!”

“This sucks! I hate having to start over at this stage of my life.”

“My ex seems to be doing just fine. Why am I having such a hard time of this?”

“Nobody else gets this. They haven’t had to deal with the stuff I’ve been dealt.”

I felt all of those and more during those first dark months. There were many days that seemed hopeless and the lonely nights stretched into eternity.

To the public, I put on a hopeful face. While behind closed doors, I threw myself quite the pity party after my ex husband cheated and then left the marriage.

The theme of the shindig was simple – innocent woman victimized by malicious husband. I resisted mailing out invitations, yet I encouraged others to attend by sharing the sordid details of what he did to me. The playlist featured various versions of, “It’s not fair,” stuck on repeat. The space was decorated with reminders of my former life, strewn about like fetid petals clinging to the floor.

This pity party went on for far too long, until its motif grew dull and everyone, including me, tired of its lack of momentum. And more than anything else, I became tired of feeling sorry for myself. And so I decided to crash my own pity party.

I found the following techniques helpful to stop feeling sorry for myself after divorce:

1 –  Fire the victim and hire the hero.

In the beginning, I focused on what was done to me. I was the object of the actions, the victim. Eventually, I grew weary of that role. After all, it really is quite limiting. I made the decision to fire the victim and hire the hero, taking charge of my own life from that point forward. This reframing of your role has to come before you can begin to make changes in your situation.

2 –  Depersonalize the situation.

Part of my “poor me” came from my early belief that my once-loving husband had somehow morphed into some malevolent creature worthy of a Marvel feature. I saw him as the weapon and me as the target. With some time and consideration, I began to realize that his actions had little to do with me. I just happened to be in the way. It still stinks to realize that you’re collateral damage, but it’s easier than accepting that you’re the hapless prey.

3  – Put it in perspective.

Even to this day, when I reflect upon my divorce, I have a tendency to be overdramatic and claim that I lost everything. Yet even though it felt like all was gone, that wasn’t quite true. I still had family, friends, career and hope that I could rebuild again. Resist the temptation to sensationalize what happened. The dry facts are often much easier to swallow.

4 – Use anger as fuel to motivate action.

“It’s not fair!” became my go-to phrase. And it was accurate. It wasn’t fair. But it was the reality. So I bundled up all of that rage about the unjustness of it all and I used it as energy to write my story and to make changes in my new life. Instead of wasting the energy of the anger on your ex or your divorce, try funneling it into the creation of something better. Even if you have a, “I’ll show them!” attitude while doing it.

5 – Edit your personal narrative.

I used to say, “I was abandoned” when speaking about my divorce. And with every repetition of that phrase, I felt even more discarded. Once I realized that I was self-inflicting further trauma with my words, I shifted to, “My ex left,” which left me feeling much better. The words we say to others have influence. The words we say to ourselves have power. Be intentional with the words and phrases you repeat to yourself.

6 – Avoid pity party attendees.

Living in the South, I probably heard, “Well, bless your little heart” dozens of times a day during my divorce. At first, I accepted those words and the pitying embraces that accompanied them. I felt comforted. Validated. But then as I started to find my voice and embrace my inner hero, those words began to chafe. At some point, those that continue to pity you will begin to hold you back. Avoid them and instead seek out those who inspire you.

7 – Remind yourself that it could be worse.

My ex left me holding the debt he incurred while building his other life (and while courting his other wife). As I made those painful payments every month, I reminded myself that at least I could pay off that balance, even if it meant living lean for a few years. Whether considering your own situation or comparing it with others, remember that it could always be worse than it is. And be thankful that it’s not.

8 – Keep a daily gratitude journal.

My journal was my savior that first year. It didn’t judge my anger, censor my pain or question my fears. But perhaps its most important role was to help train me in the art of gratitude as I made an effort to consider something I was thankful for each day. It’s hard to feel sorry for yourself when you’re busy being grateful. Whether on paper or on an app, try jotting down one to two things you’re thankful for every day.

9 – Ban the words, “I wish” and “Why me?”

I spent some time wanting things to be different, falling down a rabbit hole of “how?,” “why?” and “I wish.” Every time I indulged those words, I felt worse. Hopeless, even. Those were thoughts anchored in hopes. Instead, I replaced them with views leading to action – “I can,” “I will” and “I have.” By making this switch, you shifting your focus from what happened in the past to what you can control in the future.

10 – Call in reinforcements.

Of all of the people in my life during the divorce, surprisingly the policeman who arrested my husband became one of the most important. As an officer, he had seen it all and so he was largely immune to the shock of my situation (although he still says it’s the story he tells the most!). His matter-of-factness and lack of effusive sympathy was exactly what I needed. Seek out people who help lift you out of feeling sorry for yourself through a combination of encouragement and butt-kicking. It may not always feel great in the moment, but it will pay dividends later.

11 – Build your confidence.

Part of my self-pity was anchored in a feeling of weakness and apprehension. I felt small and broken, impotent against insurmountable odds. So I started to challenge myself, to build my strength, baby step by baby step. I faced my fears – the small ones at first – and tested my beliefs about my limitations. Self-pity thrives on unease and frailty. As you begin to build your confidence, you starve out pity.

12 – Learn from fictional heroes.

I became obsessed with the True Blood books during my divorce. Not only was the series light and easy to follow, I envied Sookie Stackhouse’s can-do attitude no matter what disasters befell her. I even found myself thinking WWSD (What Would Sookie Do?) throughout the difficult days. Find a particular character that embodies who you want to be and channel their energy on the days when you don’t feel strong enough on your own.

13 – Consider the role model you want to be.

I remember looking out at my class of eighth graders one day as the court date for my divorce rapidly approached. I was scared. Frightened of what would happen. Anxious about what would come next. And then I looked at those kids, who were looking to me as a role model. And I decided that I wanted to show them courage and perseverance, not fear and self-pity. Who are you a role model for in your life? What do you want to teach them by your reactions?

14 – Replace pity with compassion.

Part of my pity party was a cry for compassion, both from myself and others. I wanted the pain to be heard. To be recognized. With pity, the pain is nurtured whereas with compassion, the pain is acknowledged and then the person is nurtured. Compassion accepts the suffering and also advocates the overcoming of it.

15 – Fake it until you make it.

At work, I spoke confidently about my plans for my future. With my friends, I expressed unbridled interest in dating. Yet at home, once the sun went down and I was in the safety of my bed, I still wondered why I had to endure this. And the strangest thing began to happen. The more I practiced the brave, “I got this” face, the more I began to believe it. And as my faith in myself fueled my progress, I began to experience surprise when people expressed pity for what happened.

Because at some point, the worst thing that had ever happened had become a turning point that led to the best days of my life.

The best way to stop feeling sorry for yourself is to create a life that you love.

How to Rewrite Your Divorce Story

Posted on by stilllearning2b

With personal life events, the facts matter less than your interpretation of them.

I wish I had known that in the year following my own divorce. Instead, I chased down the facts like a terrier after a rat, convinced that as soon as I had assembled all the particulars and made sense of the information, I would find peace.

The exercise was one of futility and failure. No matter how much I questioned or how hard I looked, there were certain things that would remain unknowable. My need to comprehend became obsessive, consuming my thoughts and breaking me down in the process.

In my unease with those voids, I filled them with my assumptions and reactions, feelings acting as the mortar between the bricks of what happened. And I assumed the worst, as we often do. I believed that my ex acted out of deliberate malice with a personal and directed attack. I eagerly assigned him the label of “sociopath” in an attempt to understand his actions. And I held tight to the facts I did know, using them as an excuse both inwardly and outwardly for my response.

And instead of finding relief, I only felt worse.

Time moved on and with it, the clarity of some of details faded. The facts muddied as they tumbled through my thoughts with my perceptions, like whites thrown into the wash along the darks. As first I panicked, afraid that I would forget the reality of what happened. I went through old emails, pulled out worn files in an effort to remind myself of the facts.

I was startled to realize that they no longer mattered. And even more importantly, I realized that the emotional stories that I told myself to fill in the missing information had more staying power and influence than the facts themselves.

On that day, I made a decision to actively reframe all of my earlier assumptions and conclusions surrounding the known facts of my divorce. Instead of believing that my ex acted out of malevolence, I decided to believe that he was scared and seeking to alleviate his own pain. I replaced “sociopath” with “depressed” and “addict,” both of which elicited empathy more than hatred. I reframed his ongoing lies as desperate measures in an effort to regain control of a life spinning out of hand.

I actively worked to excise the emotion of my earlier reactions. With each remaining fact and facet, I made the effort to assume the best possible motivation and intention. The mental exercise was like pouring Tide into the tumbler along with the facts, brightening the facts and softening the harsh edges.

And I found relief.

Those facts are still stored in my brain and on some hard days, one will rise to the surface and cause my breath to catch in my throat with the intensity of the memory. But for the most part, when I think about my own experience, I see it through the lens I crafted. The reworking of the facts that allows me to feel empathy instead of rage, peace instead of rejection and pity instead of betrayal.

Because when it comes to personal life events, the facts matter less than your interpretation of them.

If you want to rewrite your own divorce story, these are the steps you need to take:

  • Recognize your assumptions. We all have a tendency to take people’s words and actions personally when it is often not about us. Strip away all of your beliefs about why something was said or why a certain behavior occurred.
  • Write the facts and only the facts. Keep it simple and keep it brief. There is no need to focus on the nuance; you only need to capture the broad strokes.
  • Pretend these same facts were presented about somebody you feel kindly towards or written about a positive character in a book. What conclusions might you reach about why these things happened?
  • Shift those beliefs to your own situation. Be persistent – your earlier and more emotional reactions will fight you for dominance.
  • Notice how you feel as those positively-spun stories start to resonate. Are you breathing a little easier? Feeling a little lighter?

Your divorce and perhaps your ex have already hurt you enough. There is no reason for you to allow your thoughts to hurt you even more.

Is It Time For You To Quit One Of These Self-Appointed Jobs After Divorce?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Prior to divorce, one of your predominate life roles is that of “husband” or “wife.” And once that position is pulled from you, it leaves a job opening that is often filled with a self-appointed role that ultimately causes more harm than good. Is it time for you to quit one (or more) of these post-divorce jobs?

Detective

In my day job, I was a math teacher, educating teenagers on how to find x. In my evenings, I dedicated myself to finding my ex so that he could face the legal repercussions of his illegal activities. Through a combination of triangulation based on account activity and Google Earth, I was able to deliver an accurate address to the police.

In the beginning, this cyber sleuthing had a purpose. Yet even once he was located and his illegal actions verified, I had trouble letting go of my new-found investigative skills. The searching felt purposeful, the details, important. By focusing on assembling information, I was able to distract myself from what I was feeling.

I decided to put in my letter of resignation for my detective role on the day after the divorce was final. I did one last search, cleared my browser history and packed away all of the accumulated paperwork. His whereabouts and activities were no longer any of my concern.

Psychiatrist

It didn’t make any sense to me. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around how my vowed protector had morphed into my persecutor, seemingly overnight. The only way that it made sense to me was if he embodied some sort of monster archetype, only described in modern psychiatric terms.

I reflected upon his childhood. I considered his traits and innate responses to stress. I carefully matched his characteristics against those that define various personality disorders until I settled on the label of sociopath. The non-violent type, as far as I knew.

For a time, I found peace in my amateur diagnosis. It was a way of finding some sense of control. By naming it, I found some dominion over it. But then memories, good memories, starting bubbling up to the surface. And I couldn’t integrate those with my current image of him. So I let go of the labels, and instead tried to see him as an imperfect man, flawed as we all are, and more a stranger to me than I knew.

Advice Columnist

Many of my coaching clients have unwittingly assumed the role of advice-giver and confidant with their exes. In the marriage, they were the competent ones, the ones who knew how to get stuff done.  And their ex partners? Let’s just say they were content with having someone else take the reins.

And even once the households were divided, the struggling ones turn to their exes for advice and assistance and the more adept ones find themselves in the position of caretaker and organizer. In some ways, it’s a mutually beneficial relationship – one person gets their needs met and the other is able to maintain a sense of control and feels as though they are needed. On the other hand, this one-way exchange keeps both people tied to the past, limiting autonomy and promoting an unhealthy dependence.

In a marriage, it’s natural to turn to your spouse for advice and to voice your opinion freely to your spouse. But after a split, the advice-giving is best done by someone else. It’s okay to step back and let your ex manage – or even mismanage – his or her own life. They are no longer your responsibility.

Medical Examiner

My marriage died a sudden death. And I had a driving need to understand why. I had no ex husband willing to talk, so I had to perform the marital post mortem with only the impression of the body remaining.

I was convinced that the only way I could obtain closure and be able to move on was if I could follow the precursors to the demise step-by-step. I examined and assembled clues like puzzle pieces. I developed theories, some more plausible than others.

It was strange, in my pursuit of the “truth,” I began to realize that the actual facts mattered less than the narrative I crafted around them. I eventually settled on an explanation that helped me forgive and let go. And only then did the drive to dissect the past fade.

Prison Warden

Divorce is scary and disorienting. Nothing is certain, everything is in question. I often hear from people that respond to this frightening period with absolutes- “I am never going to trust again,” “I am never going to let anybody in again,” “I just can’t do this.”

They are acting as sentry, building walls and posting guards around the uncertainties of life. They seek to control all that enters and prevent any unauthorized exits. For the prison warden, the rules are rigid, the mind always watchful and the expectations have been constructed around the idea that everyone is disreputable.

Being a guard against life is not only exhausting, it’s doomed to disappointment because it’s impossible to protect from all misfortune. By all means, be observant and alert. But you don’t have to wear the Kevlar vest just to live your life.

Tabloid Journalist

“Can you believe what he did now?” I asked my coworker after informing her of my ex’s latest shenanigans. The news brought her some entertainment and distraction from work and sharing it made me feel important. Of course, in order to maintain interest, the news always has to be fresh and ideally, each new story tops the last.

This self-appointed role combines the obsessiveness of the detective with a need for attention and validation. The salacious details are mined and then shared, followed by the reward of a shot of feel-good dopamine.

The tabloid journalist requires drama to survive. Even if they are not directly manufacturing it, they are elevating it through attention and energy. It feels boring at first, turning away from the revelatory details. But it soon becomes freeing as you realize you are not dependent upon “likes” for your friendships and you have time and energy to dedicate to more advantageous pursuits.

Defense Attorney

For almost a year, I carried a printout of my ex’s mug shot and associated newspaper article. Whenever I would have to deal with somebody about a delinquent account or talk to another attorney, I would present them with the paper. It was my clumsy attempt at saying, “I’m innocent. He’s the one who did this! Please don’t judge me.”

Part of my drive to proclaim my innocence came from my ex’s attempts at gaslighting. He had engaged in some extensive character assassination behind my back while we were married, spinning horrific (and quite creative) falsehoods about me. And so I became obsessed about trying to clear my name and restore my reputation.

Eventually, I realized that those who knew me didn’t need my evidence of innocence, they had faith in me regardless. Those that had been fed a steady diet of lies by my ex were unswayable and so were not worth my efforts. And the relative strangers that I was so determined to convince? They didn’t really care whose “fault” things were, they were just doing a job.

 

Take an honest inventory of the roles you’ve assumed after your divorce – are they serving you or is time to quit and move on to a new line of work?

The Importance of Rituals

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We mark life’s important milestones with rituals – words and actions, often shared with others, that become a signpost that one stage has ended and another has begun. After death, we gather to pay our respects and to remember the life that blessed us with its presence. We use graduations ceremonies to delineate the end of childhood and the beginning of a new, more independent stage. Birth announcements are sent so that the larger community can share in the joy of a birth. Celebration dinners are held to acknowledge birthdays or promotions and flowers are sent in solitary to those in grief.

Rituals provide a shared language, a way to both announce the transition and to allow others to share in its experience. In ritual, we acknowledge the importance of any loss or any new gains. There is comfort in the action, especially when it suggests a next step when your vision is clouded over with emotion. Rituals both honor the past and allow for change; they are the spiritual linkage between what was and what will be.

Rituals provide a pause.

A collective breath. A rare moment to simply be in the between. An opportunity to connect through shared memories and possibly shared tears.

Some rituals are more private – the silent prayer, the daily scribbles in a journal, or the annual review of important photographs on an anniversary. Yet even these provide a sense of connection, providing a feeling of being part of something greater than ourselves.

Without hours of returning to alien and vacuous house after my husband abandoned me, I engaged in spontaneous rituals of my own. I burned love notes that I had written to him in the outdoor fire pit that we had recently bought together. Each pledge of love fed to the flame brought a new wave of fresh tears and each charred fleck of paper that escaped towards the sky brought with it a new sense of hope for rebirth.

Later that night, possessed with restless energy and filled with grief that alternated between rage and sadness, I gathered up his things, hauling trash bag after trash bag to the garage. I needed to finalize his exit by the removal of the evidence of his existence.

Over time, the rituals became less frenetic and more purposeful. I committed to daily entries in my journal, many of which were a way to say goodbye. I took one last walk through my garden, touching each plant as I passed. The tangible detritus of our marriage in the form of photos and letters was packed away until I could decide what to do with it. And the night my divorce was finalized was a strange parody of a birthday dinner, attended by friends and family.

Divorce is the end of one life and the beginning of another.

And unlike most life transitions, divorce does not come with a socially-constructed instruction manual that suggests pre-approved rituals. So we have to construct our own way to mark the occasion, both remembering and honoring what was and making space for what will come.

Signs You’re Holding On When It’s Time to Let Go

Posted on by stilllearning2b
holding on

Letting go is hard.

Damned hard.

I first learned this as a young child, exploring my grandmother’s basement, packed to the ceiling with carefully labeled and organized items as though she was preparing to seek refuge from the apocalypse.

Which, in many ways, she was.

She lived through starvation and disaster on the Dakota prairie that followed the first World War. Later, she experienced the Great Depression and the subsequent war that followed. She felt the burden of providing for three children while also caring for a sister and a husband that faced medical crises.

All of this occurred long before I was born. So I puzzled at the multiples of cans stacked on a windowsill that approximated a grocery shelf when a fully-stocked pantry and fridge occupied the kitchen above. From my perspective as a middle class American kid, the grocery store was a constant. I simply couldn’t understand the need to create an additional level of food security at home even as I could see how deeply the need went within her.

Then my parents divorced. And for the first time in my young life, I felt that overwhelming need to hold on to something – anything – in an attempt to create that sense of security and certainty that I needed to feel safe in the world. In fact, that need was part of what drove my attachment towards my first husband. Sometimes I wish that hindsight could be aimed forwards.

At some point, most of us experience that sense of life pulling the rug from beneath our feet. We reach out. And grab on. 

Only to realize much later that we’re still holding on long after it’s time to let go. 

The following are possible signs that you’re still holding on when perhaps it is time to let go:

The person, object or situation no longer brings you joy or fulfills a purpose.

The first hosta that I planted in my old front yard brought me endless pleasure. I admired its immense green span when I pulled into the driveway and marveled at the unfurling of its new leaves. As the sun intensified over the ensuing weeks, the once-pristine leaves began to brown, turning shriveled and deformed in the face of the sun’s relentless beating. The plant no longer brought me joy. Instead, the sight of the failing foliage brought me guilt and shame and frustration. Even as I refused to admit defeat and replace it with something more suitable.

We all have a tendency to that, to stubbornly hold on to our choices even when we no longer find joy or usefulness with our selection. Life’s too short for placeholders and clutter. If it doesn’t bring joy (to you or someone else) or fulfill a purpose, why continue to hold on?

You show signs of anxiety when you consider letting go that are out of proportion with the actual loss.

Have you ever removed a pacifier, favored toy or security blanket from the hands of young child? Did they act as though you were threatening their very existence? This just goes to show how easily we assign great meaning to things that can be relatively inconsequential.

We use these things – whether people or items – much like first responders use gauze to pack a wound. We stuff them in around the bleeding spaces in an attempt to halt the flow of emotion. Their presence means that we don’t have to examine the wound. And we fear that if we remove them, we will succumb to the underlying injury.

The opportunity cost is beginning to be a burden.

I was in contact with a person who was in an on-again, off-again relationship. They were torn. On the one hand, they were afraid of being alone and were appreciative of the positive aspects of this particular partner. On the other hand, there were significant communication struggles and work that both needed to do to past this. Ultimately, this person decided to move on – literally – because continuing to say “yes” to this relationship meant saying “no” to many exciting opportunities that were presenting themselves.

Whenever you are holding on to one thing, you are preventing yourself from holding on to something else. Are you finding that you have goals that you cannot seem to meet because your attention is still directed towards this other thing? Are your hands too full to pick up what you desire?

You find yourself making excuses and becoming defensive when questioned.

My need for my ex husband was extreme. So extreme that I was not able to face the thought of losing him, much less confront the reality of who he was. I made excuses for his excuses and defended him to myself and others. And the one time someone asked if I was afraid about infidelity while he travelled? Let’s just say that they never tried to bring it up again.

We often feed ourselves the narrative that we’ve made choices and now we have to live with them because it’s easier than facing the fact that maybe we made the wrong choice and we have the power to change it. Denial is powerful and it puts up quite the fight when it feels threatened. As such, when you feel yourself gearing up for a battle when there are no weapons drawn, it’s a sign that you may be grasping onto something that would be better off released.

The fear of the leap is the only thing in your way.

It’s scary to take a leap of faith.

The thought of letting go when you fear that you may plummet seems like a fool’s mission.

Yet if you’re always holding on, you’ll never know what you can reach.

Related: The Danger of Holding On

Let That Sh*t Go!

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