The most difficult lesson for me was to allow myself to feel the grief and the pain. I became an expert at filling my life with distractions (luckily, healthy ones, but distractions nonetheless). I was afraid that if I let the feelings in, that they would become a tsunami, crushing me under their power.
I had to make conscious decisions in the beginning to let myself feel some of it. My mind acted like a seawall, allowing some of the wave through, but holding part back. I was able to feel and process a little at a time, so that no one experience was too overwhelming. This piecemeal approach takes time, but it has worked for me because it breaks it down into manageable chunks, whereas the whole would be too much to bear.
One of the most difficult aspects of separation is dealing with the memories. I remember on my first solo grocery shopping trip, I burst into tears at the sight of the sparkling water my husband used to buy. If I couldn’t even handle the sight of an innocuous green bottle, how was I ever going to handle the places and objects that sparked real memories?
In the early months, my primary strategy was avoidance as much as possible. It wasn’t easy, though, as I lived about 6 miles from our former home and I still worked just around the corner. I secured a P.O. box in the area for that first year and I would take the most circuitous, traffic-laden route to get there so that I didn’t have to drive by my old neighborhood. Even so, I lived with constant reminders since I was so close to the crime scene.
Even while I tried to practice avoidance with the everyday reminders, I sought to consciously layer memories of the big things, I fought to take back psychic possession of certain locations or activities that he and I had done together.I staked my claim on those memories I refused to let him have them. By revisited with others and layering memories, I could once again look at those places with fondness.
It was a surreal time. I dragged city-loving friends on hikes through the mountains. I faced the place in the airport where I last touched my ex with a date, on our way to see the Smithsonian. I went with groups of friends to the restaurant where he and I ate weekly.
At first, this layering was very deliberate, intentional. Over time, I found that it became second nature, even to the point of applying a second layer without thought. Much as one does with a sweater when the wind bites a bit too much.
Do you find yourself fixated on the past, caught up in the “what if’s” and ” I should haves”? It is so easy to get lost in that world; it is like a labyrinth made of memories, embracing us in its tangled folds. Here are some suggestions on how to escape the temporal maze and look to your future.
One of the responses I frequently get to my story is, “What an idiot for getting caught.” He wasn’t an idiot, but he certainly underestimated me.
In my former life, I had a tendency to want to turn away from anything scary or ugly. My ex obviously knew this, and he exploited it towards the end of the marriage. I believe that he thought I would be so shocked and devastated by the “good-bye” text, that I would be paralyzed with fear. He thought wrong. Instead of hiding, instead of turning away, I was driven to find out what happened.
First, let me clarify. The text was abrupt. Sudden. The marriage that I knew, that he led me to see, was good. He refused to respond to any calls or texts after he left. He took all but one of the computers (mine), all of the financial documents, and strange things (like the discs that held the papers I wrote for grad school). The passwords on all of the accounts had been changed. It made no sense.
So, I immediately went into detective mode. By getting into the financial accounts, I learned of an affair and financial deceptions going back years. I also learned where he currently was staying (a few states over). It gave some answers. The emails gave the rest. Because of the way our accounts were linked, I was able to see the messages sent to his junk folder, which included those that were carbon copied.
It only took a few days for the first interesting email to come through. This one indicated plans for a visa for an upcoming trip to Uganda with the mistress. Interesting. Seemed like he was running.
The big shocker came three days after that. A message I had to read several times to grasp the meaning of. It initiated from a band in the town where he was staying. It seems they were looking for payment for a wedding they had recently performed at. His wedding.
Oops.
That started the chain that led to his arrest and bigamy charge.
I do an 1 1/2 hour power 2 hot yoga class on Sunday mornings. I have attended this class regularly since January, but it still takes me right to the edge of what I can endure. Yesterday’s class was an interesting lesson for me. I went into the class physically prepared: hydrated, rested, not too sore from the sprints the day before, ad breakfast was on board, but not a recent memory. I should have had an easy go of it.
The mind said otherwise.
As I moved through the familiar vinyasas at the start of class, I could feel my breath hitch and stutter, my mind interpreting that as an indicator of panic. Here I was, on a familiar mat in a familiar room, and my body-mind was becoming convinced that I was in some sort of imminent danger. I began to feel light-headed as the breath deteriorated further; I was losing balance in simple poses. All signals were screaming, “Get out!”
I chose to acknowledge them and ignore them. Instead of leaving the sweltering confines of the practice room, I gently folded my body into child’s pose to rest. I laid there for several minutes while the class moved and grunted around me, continuing to press their bodies into position. I simply breathed. I had to work to tell my mind that it was okay to rest, acceptable to take a break and miss part of the class. I stayed there until my breath was smooth again and my heart beat was less evident against my ribcage. I stayed there until my mind shifted from fear to acceptance. From fight to relaxation. From flight to stillness.
When I pushed back up into down dog to continue the flow, I felt revitalized and refreshed, even as the sweat poured down my frame. I went on to have a wonderful practice, even moving further into difficult (for me anyway!) poses than I had in the past.
Shift happened.
Know that your current situation and perspective is temporary. If you are unhappy with your current state, stay with it, but do not nurture it. Acknowledge it, but do not be consumed by it. Accept it, but do not run to it with open arms. Guide your mind to soften and remind your body to breathe. Shift will happen.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 