I Was Lucky

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was lucky. I never spent time in a decaying marriage. The lies that destroyed the relationship protected me for its duration, keeping me cloaked in relative comfort.

I was lucky. I never had to wrestle with the question of should I stay or should I leave? That decision was made for me.

I was lucky. I never had the pain of hoping for or trying for reconciliation. You cannot reconcile with someone who has become a ghost in his own life.

I was lucky. We did not have children. I did not have to see the pain on their faces, nor engage in a battle for them through the courts.

I was lucky. I had a clean, sudden amputation of my life, my marriage. The trauma was near-fatal, but I was left with a clean cut.

I know not all of you are so lucky. You may be deciding if your marriage can be saved. You may be hoping that it can still work out, alternating between hope and despair. You may be subject to painful contact with your ex. You may have to tuck your kids in, wishing you could take their pain away.

Even if your marriage did not end in a sterile amputation, you still have some control over how it heals. Take care to keep the wound clean and expose it to fresh air. Tight bandages may hide the damage for a time, but the wound will only fester when it is kept in the dark. Do not worry at the healing skin. Leave the scabs until they fall off of their own accord; they provide needed protection. Be gentle with the new skin, the new growth, for it is still fragile with its pink-tinged hope. Sooth the wound with the balm of your friends and family, your pets, your passions. And know that the scars only serve to make you even more beautiful.

Why I Became a Tough Mudder

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I told my family last year that I had signed up (and paid good money) for an 11 mile obstacle run, I think their first response was to shuffle through their contacts looking for the psychiatrist I saw in the early months of the divorce.  “You’re doing WHAT?  Why?,” I heard repeatedly, usually followed with a resigned head shake, “You’re crazy.”  Crazy I may be, but I felt compelled to do the event and I am so glad that I did.  Tough Mudder was more to me than a run.

A few months after the July disaster of my marriage, I signed up for my very first race ever: a half marathon.  This was a bit preemptive, since not only had I never competed, I still was weak and skinny.  I went into that race only having completed the distance once before.  That was the worst race of my life (cold, rain, illness), but I endured and made it through.  It was exactly the confidence boost I needed at that point.

Over the next several months, I ran more races, but none of them required me to dig all that deep into myself.  None of them gave me the sense of triumph over adversity that I was seeking.

Then came Mudder.  My boyfriend was the one who actually found this race and he proposed that we enter together.  I loved the idea immediately. With a shared purpose, we hit the gym with renewed vigor and not a little trepidation.

The event itself was unbelievable.  It turned out that it was slated to be held in a dry county, so the money that normally went towards beer instead paid for a longer track – almost 15 miles up and down (did I mention up?) a motocross track.  The temperature was cold, and the water obstacles were colder, as volunteers emptied flats of ice into the streams.

It was an amazing challenge for my boyfriend and I to tackle together.  It gave a true sense of working together and overcoming adversity.  My other races had been alone; it was beautiful to have someone to share this with.  It helped me learn to trust him, learn that he was not going to abandon me when the going got tough.  We pushed each other, encouraged each other, lifted each other, and even shared some muddy, sweaty kisses.  It was amazing.

I think everyone, especially those re-centering after trauma, should do their own version of Tough Mudder. Something that pushes you further than you comfortably want to go.  Something to show you what you can accomplish.  Something to show you that discomfort is temporary.  Something to show you that the support of friends can help get you through when you want to quit.  When the big picture of what you have to overcome is too big, it helps to have a little Mudder to think back on and realize, “I can do this.”

Tough Mudder logo
Image via Wikipedia

Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated

Posted on by stilllearning2b
English: The Ronald McDonald House (1705 Clinc...
Image via Wikipedia

The Ronald McDonald House is an organization that provides free or low-cost housing for families who have a child undergoing treatment in a hospital in a city away from their hometown.  The homes are designed to be welcoming and comfortable, providing a haven for the family while they are dealing with stress and uncertainty.

I think that same model could work for the recently separated.

When my ex left,  I found myself with I home a could not afford (literally or emotionally), no family in the city where I was employed, and I knew that I should not live alone (not that I was in any shape to go apartment hunting).  I was fortunate.  Very fortunate.  A friend and her husband immediately offered their spare bedroom, even though they had just brought home an adopted preemie that had problems of her own.  I went from 2000 square feet to 200.  It was perfect.

That home, which I was in for a year,  was a key component of my healing.  It was a safe place, filled with the sounds and energy of family.  It was space where I could cry, scream, and curse.  It was a house that provided normalcy, as my friend and I engaged in our usual debates.  It was a place for gaining strength, the baby and I both placed on weight-gaining diets.  It was a home that welcomed me, as I  was.

Not everyone undergoing a divorce has the opportunity to be in such a place.  But maybe they should.  Perhaps we could have transitional homes for those who are leaving one life behind and unsure of what the new life will entail.  Homes where discussions of depositions, custody, and infidelity are just normal nighttime ramblings.  Spaces where we can scream the anger out and cry the hurt out, until we are ready to leave intact, ready to face the world again.

I don’t see Ronald McDonald taking up this cause, so let’s help each other by creating safe spaces for those navigating the pain of an unanticipated and unwanted major life renovation.

Why I Run

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I run not to get away,  but to get through.

I run not to become out of breath, but to gain breath.

I run to be social and I run for solitude.

I run to connect and I run to disconnect.

I run not to avoid work, but to inspire work.

I run to feel empowered and I run to remind myself that I am still weak.

I run to meditate and I run to ruminate.

I run not to lose weight, but to gain balance.

I run because it is what I do.

Because I run, I can be who I am.

And that is why I run.

Psychology May be a Soft Science, But She Drives a Hard Bargain

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Statue of Pax in the garden of Pavlovsk Palace

I used to think that I could reason my way through anything.  I viewed psychology and the other soft sciences with derision, much preferring the absolutes of the harder sciences and mathematics.  I thought I could if-then my way through anything, repair any damage with deduction, and apply analytical reasoning to solve any dilemma.

I was wrong.

Psychology may be a soft science, but she drives a hard bargain.  She lets her influence be felt, even if her presence is ignored or denied.  We can try to avoid her, turning our minds away, but she is still there.  Influencing our thoughts, driving our behaviors, pressing on our insecurities.  We can pretend as though we are strong enough to not feel her sway, but it is an illusion. In fact, the more she is ignored, the more powerful she becomes.  She has the power to destroy, to eat from the inside out.  It is best to befriend her, to listen to her and try to understand.  Accept her ways and feel her influence.  Allow her intuition to soften deduction.  Embrace the feelings she shares with your analytical mind.  Welcome her and she will only make you stronger, reinforcing reasoning with her gentle touch.

Psychology may drive a hard bargain, but it’s a bargain you’ll want to take.

 

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