Our traumas help to form us, but we do have to let them define us. You are not what happened to you. You are not your suffering. The first step in healing is taking ownership of your reactions and choosing to respond in a manner which will help you let go of the past.
You will always see the event as a delineation in your memories; there is a “you” before and a different “you” after that has been changed by the trauma. When you become stuck, you view the repercussions of the event as malevolent and place the responsibility for the changed self on the event.
It happened. It hurt. It changed you. By letting it define you, you simply give it more power. You have the ability to create beauty out of the pain.
One of the most powerful images I held in my mind during my divorce was that of how I handled a fallen tree in my garden. I had a large tree come down in an area where I had cultivated a beautiful woodland garden. Those delicate plants were now exposed to the harsh midday sun and would not survive. I mourned the loss of the area for a day or so and then I went to work. I dug up and moved all of the shade-lovers and replanted them in new areas that would still give them the shelter they needed. I then loaded up my car with sun-loving plants from the nursery (yes, this was the fun part!) that I never had space for before. I was able to create a new, different, but even more beautiful garden where the tree had fallen.
Are you letting your divorce define you? Do you give it (or your ex) the power to control your life now? This is a choice and you can change your mind.
I was never an athletic child. I always had various bodily complaints: asthma, joint problems, allergies, and I found it way too easy to pass on physical exertion due to these issues. Strangely enough; however, one of my long-standing complaints ushered me in to the world of sports and exercise.
I had always had pain and weakness in my hands and wrists. When I was 14, I had a carpal tunnel release done on the right hand after a nerve conduction test revealed a substantial decrease in nerve function. I had a hard road back from the surgery and I needed rehab beyond physical therapy. I had always loved the Monkees (RIP Davy Jones, my first crush) and was particularly enamoured of the episode where they fenced. (Okay, so maybe I was also influenced by Cary Elwes in tight pants in The Princess Bride. Back to the story…)
So in my 14-year-old brain, I came up with the following:
play with swords + strengthen my hand + get to hit people + hot guys in tight pants + mask to hide bad hair day = “mom…I want to try fencing”
Luckily, she agreed. I began to train at Salle Pouj, run by Gerard Poujardieu, a French fencer with a sharp wit and a tongue to match. My years training with Pouj were amazing. He knew how to support me and encourage me at the same time (translation: a swift kick in the butt). I learned what my body was capable of as I began to gather medals and I learned what my mind is capable of as I worked to overcome fear and pain. Here are just a few of the lessons I learned on the strips of the salle.
Commit
The big day had arrived. All of the fencing gear that I had ordered had come in. Pouj was going through each item, describing it and inventorying it. When he was through, he picked up a patch from his desk and showed my mom and I where it needed to be placed on the shoulder of my jacket. “KTB?,” my mom asked, “What does that stand for?” With partially chagrined look (yes partial, if you had known Pouj, you would know that he would never be fully chagrined about ANYTHING), he replied, “Kill the Bastards.” My pacifist-leaning mom looked shocked. I grinned.
He went on to explain that it meant to not do anything half way, to commit to your actions. In a lesson, he would say “through the spine,” meaning not to hesitate or back off. If you’re going to do it, do it right. Sometimes when I doubt myself, I can be heard muttering, “KTB” under my breath.
If you’re in a battle, it is a battle against yourself
Fencing is a bit deceptive. You face off across a thin strip, mano y mano, waving swords in each other’s faces. It would seem clear that your opponent is the masked person on the other end of the strip. I soon learned that my true opponent was myself. Each bout I strove to be better than I was before, regardless of who held the other weapon. They were almost inconsequential.
The true battle was in my mind. Against my own fears. My own voice telling me I couldn’t do it. I discovered that if I worked to win the battle in my head, the one on the strip usually worked out in my favor.
This is Pouj BEFORE a competition. He was touching each medal in turn, saying, “This one’s mine…and this one’s mine…” He was highly confident:)
Sometimes, you simply cannot prepare enough
I ended up being pretty good at fencing. I frequently placed in the top 3 in the state for my division. One year, Pouj convinced me to compete in the Junior Olympics. I was confronted with the reality that Texas is not the fencing center of the country (I mean, who knew?). I trained hard for that competition, but it was not enough. I faced three left-handed in a row, and I had very little experience with the topsy-turvy world of fencing against lefties. All those fancy moves? Yeah, they don’t work anymore.
It was a hard lesson to learn. I had gone from being near the top to being inconsequential, a mere blip on the screen as my opponents continued to advance. I realized I had to let it go. Some situations are not winnable no matter how much you prepare.
Size doesn’t matter
Okay, get your head out of the gutter. We are talking about when I was in high school, after all.
As you may be able to tell from my photos, I am rather vertically challenged. Fencing is a great equalizer amongst athletes of all sizes. I routinely beat men who topped me by a foot and were much stronger. I learned to become confident in my body and feel strong and powerful, regardless of my pants size. How big you feel is so much more important than how big you are.
Don’t be too predictable
There was one particular pattern Pouj taught me that I really liked. It worked well with my height and my unexpected strength (in fact, I routinely disarmed Pouj with this particular move, which was no small feat!). As you can imagine, I used this sequence a lot. Too much, as it turns out, as my opponents began to anticipate its use. I had grown too comfortable, too predictable.
For my next trick, I taught myself to beat one rhythm with my left hand on my back leg while I fenced to an entirely different drummer. That kept them guessing:)
Analyze the slow and trust instinct when the speed picks up
In a lesson, Pouj would have me analyze and practice a move over and over, first in slow motion and then at speed. This was comfortable to me, as I like to think and stay in my brain-space. I did well, until the day of my first bout came. I tried to think through every attack and plan every counter-attack. The problem? I was still analyzing the initial attack and my opponent would be on his second.
I had to learn to trust my instincts. Believe that the body knew what to do.
If you hold on too tightly, you lose your ability to move
I fenced with what was called a French grip (which Pouj insisted on, go figure). The grip was a singular piece of metal, about a quarter of an inch on each rectangular side. My instinct when I first held the weapon was to grasp the hold tightly in a fist, especially because the 2 1/2 pound weight of the foil was quite a burden for my rehabbing hand. Pouj shook his head at me. “No, no. Not like that at all.” He pinched the grip between my thumb and forefinger and coached the other fingers to lightly wrap around. He explained that this limited grip was where all of my movement and control came from. If I was to hold on too tightly, I would not be able to move. By letting go, I gained more strength.
Hmmm…I think that lesson wasn’t fully mastered in the salle. Maybe that’s why I’ve had to repeat it.
And, finally, don’t drink too much water before putting on all of the safety and scoring gear for a bout
Pretty self explanatory.
In memory of Pouj, who taught me more than he ever knew.
I was engaged in my usual Sunday cook-a-thon last week when I faced a small dilema. I wanted the smoked paprika (fancy, I know) for the recipe, but it was out of reach. I keep this particular item on the top shelf of the spice cabinet due to its infrequent use. Normally, I simply climb up on the counter below to reach the items on the top shelf. At this particular time; however, my very full and very hot slow cooker was occupying the exact counter real estate where I would need to place my knees.
At first, I became frustrated. I felt like the recipe wouldn’t be perfect without the addition of the smoked paprika. Then, I glanced up, spying the perfectly normal and perfectly accessible paprika right in front of me. It would do just fine.
Some days and some situations are not about trying to achieve perfection. When you’re in a rough patch, trying to maintain a high standard can be daunting and add unneeded stress. It is okay to redefine your goals and adjust accordingly. Sometimes, it’s all about what you can reach.
And, for the record, no I did not think about pulling a chair over to reach the paprika. There is probably a lesson in that too…
It was a happy accident. My mom was talking about how she met the goal of improving her blood work (cholesterol, glucose, etc.) and needed a new motivation to continue to eat right and exercise. I was feeling the travel bug biting hard and my unused passport in my maiden name was growing restless. And, somehow, some way, the topic of Italy came up.
She mentioned that it was her dream destination. The top contender on the bucket list. I casually mentioned, “Why don’t we do it together.” I heard her face light up over the phone. She grew excited. Giddy. We only had a few minutes until I had to go, so we quickly talked through some basics. I had made the trip to Italy once before with a high school group, so I had some idea of what I wanted to do on this trip. I thought of the places I had gone and what I wanted to share with her. I took off like a rocket.
Rome, of course. The history there. Piazza Navona and that little gelato place. Vatican museum. That place was amazing. Famous artwork even lined the hallways to the bathrooms. All those cathedrals. The Coliseum. I wonder if it’s still full of cats? The Pantheon. That one caught me by surprise. The beauty and unexpected joy of the rain pouring through the occulus. Florence. The Uffizi Gallery. Oh my god, those statues were amazing. Pompeii. I still dream of that place. Inspiring and haunting all at once. All the images came tumbling back.
I never made it north of Florence. She began to speak wistfully of Venice and the lake country. We would have to include those, as well.
When? We set a date. Summer of 2013.
All of this occurred in under 20 minutes. A trip sketched out. A dream laid.
Good thing I tossed a coin in here 20 years ago!
I had a busy evening with friends that night. She had a busy evening too; purchasing travel and Italy apps, buying books, and beginning research. I could tell she was thrilled. Even better, I could tell she was motivated to stay healthy to be able to handle the rigors of Italy. I am excited to be able to do this trip together: mother and daughter. We will have our challenges, but they are known ones and mainly due to our different paces. It’s a good thing that I have mellowed somewhat and that my Vibram running shoes pack down small:) I am looking forward to showing her the sights that made such an impact on me 20 years ago and seeing the look on her face as she visits the locals of her dreams.
This was just a few short weeks ago. Since then, she has mapped out the itinerary and started researching hostels. I have begun the process of figuring out how to feed myself while there (luckily, it looks like gluten free will be easy, but I remember them all too clearly calling me a “sadomasochist” for being vegetarian when I was a teenager). I’ve been inundated with Italy-themed emails and the first “mom” package of books has arrived. I love it. I get to see my mom excited and, for me, I get to obtain the first stamp on the passport of my new life.
Look out Verona, these two ladies are coming your way!
the “I” or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought. (from dictionary.com)
Ever since we first begin to see ourselves as separate, sentient beings in childhood, our egos define how we interpret the world around us. That sense of self may actually be holding you back from healing from your divorce. Do you see yourself in any of the following patterns?
It’s All About Me
When I first realized the extent of my husband’s betrayals, I kept asking, “How could he do this to me? To the one he was supposed to love?” I saw his actions directed towards me as an arrow towards a target. I assumed he was thinking about me as he made these decisions. He lied to me. He cheated on me. He stole from me. That pattern kept me fully anchored in a victim state, the recipient of all the pain and deceptions.
Slowly, I realized that it wasn’t all about me. He lied and cheated and stole, yes. But he did those things because of whatever demons had him in their grasp. He didn’t do those things because of me. He most likely wasn’t even thinking of me while they occurred. He did them and I was in the way.
I shifted my thinking. When he hurt me, he was acting to protect his own sense of self rather than trying to wound mine. I began to let the anger go.
It is not easy to remove the ego from interpreting the actions of one so intimate to you. Try looking at the situation with an open mind, letting go of your own ego, and see how your perspective shifts.
The Reflective Ego Shield
Our egos are vulnerable beings; they often cover themselves in highly reflective shields, deflecting any criticism and shining it back at its source. I used to get very defensive when anyone suggested that I had a hand in my husband’s actions. I would retaliate, lashing out at them as I tightened the stays on the armor protecting my ego. It was a very scary proposition to let some of that armor go and to examine what was shielded underneath. I learned the role that my own insecurities and anxieties played in the end of my marriage. Instead of reflecting all of the responsibility on him, I took my share.
There is a difference between taking responsibility for your own actions and taking the blame for another’s actions. If you are carrying your own reflective shield, try lowering it and examining what lies beneath.
The Hidden Wounds
The ego doesn’t like to show its vulnerabilities. When asked, “How are you doing?,” the ego always answers, “Fine.”
I remember how many times I falsely spoke that word in those early months. Much of that time, I wasn’t “fine,” I was angry, sad, bitter, anxious, sick, and disconnected. But I also didn’t want to reveal those wounds. To let the world see the depth of my pain. I kept it covered with a band-aid of “fine.”
Your wounds cannot heal unless they are exposed to the air. The bandage can remain on to protect your injuries from the world at large, but you remove them when are in a safe place to let the healing begin.
Ego as Strongman
Our egos are a bit like young meatheads in a gym. Flexing in the mirror, wanting to appear strong and capable amongst the others. This means that sometimes we will try to lift more than we can without asking for assistance. And, just like in the weight room, this can only lead to disaster.
Prior to my husband’s David Copperfield act, I was horrible at asking for and receiving assistance. In fact, that was actually one of the points of contentions in my marriage; I always made it clear that I could do it alone. I guess he wanted to prove me right. Regardless, I made things so much more difficult than they ever needed to be by denying offered help and refusing to ask for help when it was needed.
Are you acting like the young man in the gym? Ask for a spotter and you’ll not only gain the respect of those around you, but you will also be able to lift more than you ever thought possible.
Our egos tend to operate below our conscious thought. After all, they are us. And they are often the biggest barriers in our way.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 