Permission Granted

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I was a freshman in college, I spent a brief period in a grief support group. I was reeling from the deaths of over a dozen friends in the previous few years. There was a young man who had recently lost his mom to cancer and a woman whose brother was killed the previous year in a head-on collision. Three other women rounded out the group. They had all miscarried.

All of our losses, although different in degree and detail, had much in common. But there was one factor missing for the ones who had suffered the loss of their unborn child; they didn’t feel like they had the right to grieve. Either explicitly or implied, they had all received the message from people around them that theirs was not a “real” death and that their level and duration of grief should match that fact. Their grief, rather than being supported, was minimized.

Unlike the rest of us, who were deemed “faultless” in our losses, these three women had faced accusations and associated guilt that they were somehow at fault. That they were responsible for their loss. They had the added burden of a sense of culpability and a target for blame.

I ached for these women.

Their loss was real. Their pain was real.

And the fact that their pain was downplayed and finger-pointed made their grief all the more real.

A divorce is a death.

Not of a person.

But of a marriage.

It is loss of the possibilities of the future.

It is collapse of a partnership and a family.

It is the cleaving of lives and often self.

And part of what makes divorce so difficult is that it is the demise of a marriage and yet there is a stigma attached to grieving its loss. There are no wakes, where loved ones gather and offer support. There are no obituaries published to disburse the news and quiet the rumors. You garner uneasy looks in you mention how you miss your spouse, especially if he or she is playing full-on offense in the divorce. There are no established rituals for mourning a marriage (and I don’t count the uptick in the often-gaudy “divorce party” a grieving ritual). And there are certainly no memorials planned.

It is a complicated grief. The person is still alive, yet the memories are now tarnished perhaps beyond recognition. They become sort a walking dead.

There is always a questioning and doubt as to what you could have done to alter the marital course. And it is a tricky path to walk between responsibility and needless guilt.

You may feel confusion because you initiated the divorce and yet you don’t understand why you are so sad to see the end you hoped for finally arrive.

You hear statements from others like, “My divorce is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” while you’re still reeling from the loss and grieving in silence.

The loss is real. The pain is real.

And the fact that the pain was downplayed and finger-pointed makes the grief all the more real.

So hold a funeral for your marriage, a sign of acknowledging the end and a first step of letting go. Take some tangible piece of the marriage (no, not your ex!) and release it through burial or a funerary pyre.

Write a eulogy for your marriage, telling the whole story from hopeful beginning to bitter end.

Plant a memorial tree symbolizing your roots in the marriage and your limitless growth above.

Re-purpose a memento from the marriage to serve as both a memory of what was and a reminder that you can transform your future.

It’s okay to mourn your marriage.

It’s okay to grieve your loss.

Permission granted.

What a Thing is Not

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sometimes you have to experience what a thing is not before you can truly appreciate it for what it is.

I wound up at the doctor’s office Tuesday night in order to rule out strep (one of the gifts middle schoolers love to give their teachers!). Apart from lethargy and a headache, my primary complaint was a sore throat and very swollen and tender glands in my neck. I knew it was time to go in when I was counting the turns (and subsequent neck pivots) that occurred on my way to work that morning.

The nurse practitioner delivered the welcome news that it was not strep (yippee!) and she inquired about any sinus congestion.

“None!,” I replied confidently, thinking back to only weeks before when the flu made me sound like an MMA fighter after an especially brutal match.

I was sent home with a pack of prednisone to counteract the inflammation along with the usual recommendations.

And four hours later, I was stunned.

That congestion I was sure I didn’t have? I had just become so acclimated to it (and the excessive swelling was holding it in place), that I was completely unaware of the pressure. At least the until the steroids started to take effect.

And once I learned what the absence of congestion was, I could appreciate the obstruction for what it was.

(And appreciate the availability of modern medicine and clinics with late hours!)

We acclimate to where we are.

We adapt to our surroundings until we are larger unaware.

Until it shifts.

And the contrast is uncomfortable.

Even painful.

But the disparity between what was and what is allows us to fully see a thing for what it is.

There is a Korean spa in town that has an amazing wet area. One of my favorite pastimes there is to spend several minutes either in the hot tub or the steam sauna followed by a dip in the arctic plunge pool. Those first few moments in the frigid water are brutal; I have to force myself to continue to breathe. After a minute, my body acclimates and the cold is invigorating. And then eventually, I do step out and enter the warmth of the tub or sauna again, the heat just as uncomfortable as the cold at first. Until it isn’t.

And after an hour of alternating extreme temperatures, my body and mind feel more alive than ever at 70º.

Because sometimes you have to experience what a thing is not before you can truly appreciate it for what it is.

7 Reasons People Withdraw in Relationships

Posted on by stilllearning2b
withdraw

We’ve all felt it.

That certain chill in the air. The posture slightly too rigid and closed off. The tone that is just a little too clipped. The words may be right, but something is off.

A disconnection.

It’s like the plug that charges the relationship is only partly plugged in.

It happens in every relationship. It can be as minor as one partner withdrawing for a few moments or hours. Or, it can also prove fatal to the marriage when withdrawal becomes the default position.

So why do people withdraw from their partners? What makes the connection faulty and the charge intermittent?

Fear of Intimacy

It’s scary to allow someone in to your innermost thoughts, dreams and fears. As relationships progress into ever-deepening levels, it’s common to pause and even retreat for a bit to acclimate to the new level of connection must like a deep sea diver has to take breaks on the return to the surface. This type of withdrawal, when short-lived, is nothing to worry about. It’s simply time spent adjusting and processing before the next level is reached. If, however, the retreat from intimacy occurs early and often, it may be a sign that someone is not yet ready to be vulnerable and open.

Fear of Rejection

This withdrawal type can lead to a sad self-feeding loop. One partner is afraid of rejection and decides that he or she would rather retreat than risk approach. The other partner can then easily feel rejected by their partner pulling back. You can have a situation where both people crave connection yet are too afraid to risk asking for it. If you find that you are afraid of rejection, work to address your own needs that allow this worry to grow. If your partner makes a bid for attention, work to respond in a way that is accepting rather than rejecting.

Flooding

Some people are more sensitive than others; an amount of emotion that may feel perfectly tepid to one person may be scalding to another. When somebody floods, their emotions are overwhelming them. And even though their surface may remain placid, inside they are a tantruming toddler. When someone is flooded, they are unable to respond rationally and struggle to normalize their emotional balance. When something is too intense, it’s natural to retreat for a time. Flooding is often a sign of some unresolved trauma, the emotions triggered having more to do with the past than the present.  If your partner is easily triggered, work to be supportive and patient while encouraging him or her to address the underlying issues. If you find that you are easily overwhelmed, make resolving your trauma a priority.

Anger

Some people wear their anger on their sleeves, leaving no doubt as to the emotion at the helm. Others are more covert, either because they have been trained to hide anger or because they are afraid of addressing the underlying problem face on. And furtive anger can often lead to withdrawal when one partner steams in silence. When anger is at a peak, it is often advisable to retreat for a time to calm down and think more rationally. That respite should be followed by approach, communicating the anger and working together to resolve the broken boundaries. If one (or both) partners consistently fume from afar, the anger will only mutate into resentment, causing a more permanent rift in the relationship.

Introversion

Some people simply require more solitude than others. It’s easy for an extrovert to sense a disconnect from their introverted partner when the latter is retreating in order to refuel his or her energy. If you are the more introverted partner, it is your responsibility to communicate your need for alone time to your spouse and make connection and intimacy a priority when you are together. If you are feeling left out by an introvert, learn how to establish connection without overwhelming their senses.

Outside Pressures

Marriages do not exist in a vacuum. We all have demands placed (okay, sometimes heaped) upon us from outside the relationship. Withdrawal can occur anytime someone is feeling overwhelmed and overworked. It’s a method of survival, cutting off blood flow to some areas in order to focus on what is critical in the moment. A marriage can survive a short-term starvation of attention and energy. Yet leave the tourniquet on too long, and there will be no marriage to return to. If your spouse is in survival mode, strive to be compassionate yet also persistent about maintaining connection. If you are the drowning one, don’t neglect to ask your spouse for a hand.

Pursuer/Withdrawal Dance

This is one of the fatal relationship patterns often described by Gottman. Understand that your partner’s withdrawal has more to do with them then with you. Don’t take it personally. But at the same time, take it seriously, because a habit of withdrawal can initiate a catastrophic domino effect. The initial withdrawal can occur for any of the above reasons. If it is then followed by a desperate grab for attention by a panicking spouse, it sets up the choreography for a dance where one partner is always retreating and the other is always grasping.

 

All relationships have an ebb and flow of intimacy. The challenge is learn how to ride it out rather than allow any periods of withdrawal to slide into a downward spiral of disconnection. For the partner sensing the distance and craving connection, the key is to relax and not push away or flood the more reserved partner. And for the attachment to return, the retreating partner must be aware of his or her own patterns and make a sustained effort to maintain the intimacy.

How the Language We Use Reveals Our Assumptions

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was working on a post about relationships that begin with infidelity the other day when I found myself at a loss.

Unless I’m sharing my personal story, I try to write from as much as a gender-neutral perspective as possible. I typed the phrase, “Mistress or …” waiting for the masculine version of the word to pop into my head.

And I drew a blank. My trusty thesaurus wasn’t any better and even Twitter couldn’t find a male-gendered term that means an affair partner.

As I reworked the sentence to include a gender-neutral poor substitute (paramour), I found my mind actively chewing on this suddenly-realized vacancy in our language. After all, women cheat (the studies are notoriously inaccurate, but the rates aren’t usually much below men) and I would wager (again, going with statistical evidence) that the majority of those women are cheating with men.

So what are those men called?

 

It gets even more interesting.

 

We have a gendered name for the betrayed husband – cuckhold – a term that originally meant a deceived man who ended up caring for a child born from another man. And in fact, adultery has historically (and in many cultures) been considered much more heinous when it is between a married woman and another man than when the man is the one straying from the marital bed. Which makes sense from a purely economical standpoint; a wayward wife may mean a man’s resources are going to help perpetuate another’s genes.

Yet even without the biological concern of a woman unknowingly raising another woman’s child, there are certainly plenty of men who procreate outside of marriage.

So what do we call their deceived wives?

 

When a mistress is reviled (such as by the wife), she is referred to as the “homewrecker.”

I’ve never heard of a man referred to by that term, even though it is not exclusively feminine.

 

The woman is also more likely to be called terms that shame her for her sexuality, whereas the man is more likely to be called out for his duplicity.

 

The words used extend to within a marriage. How often do we hear about a “frigid” wife being the cause of a sexless marriage? Yet Google implies that men are equally likely to be the frigid ones. Except we don’t call them that.

 

 

The language seems to favor the fooled husband on the marital side and the kept and wanton woman on the outside of the marriage. Even though those roles are easily interchangeable and are more about character and circumstance than about gender.

 

And what does that reveal about our assumptions?

Interesting to think about.

 

Have any known words to add?

Any words you would like to create?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Overcompensation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I know I was shocked when I first heard the news.

I’ll bet you were too.

We trusted him. We respected him.

We felt like we knew him.

And then when the stories about his impropriety began to surface, we started to question.

Not only his authenticity, but also our own judgment.

Like so many that lead lives of misconduct, Bill Cosby hid behind an illusion of perfection. He played the father we all wished we had, and his off-screen demeanor paralleled his on screen performance. He always seemed kind. And patient. Making us laugh and making us learn.

And also making us look away from his behavior behind the scenes.

Causing those that heard of his behavior to question the veracity of the claims.

And perhaps even making those subject to his offenses question their own memories.

Because in so many ways, he was so good.

Too good to be true.

I never realized that my ex was also too good to be true in many ways.  I thought I was lucky to have a husband that I got along with so well that we never seemed to have areas of friction. I felt blessed that he was so patient with me and would strive to temper any anxiety I felt. I was in awe of his ability to solve any problem and I delighted at the fact that he always had an answer.

I trusted him. I respected him.

I felt like we knew him.

And then when the stories about his impropriety began to surface, I started to question.

Not only his authenticity, but also my own judgment.

And all too often, that’s how it is. Sometimes the wolves walk among us unshielded. But much of the time, the wolves are dressed in the finest wool, revered as the ideal lamb.

And who suspects a lamb?

Watch out for those who overcompensate. Those who seem too good to be true. Be wary when tensions never rise and irritation rarely shows. Be cautious around people who never sweat and never seem fazed.

Because all of us are a blend of both wolf and sheep.

And those who pretend otherwise are hiding something.

Related: Covert Abuse