It’s Nice to Be Important

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Not long after we started dating, I accompanied my teenage boyfriend to his grandfather’s funeral. I had never met nor heard anything about the deceased; my first impression came from the pastor’s opening lines:

“It’s important to be nice, but it’s more important to be important.”

Surprised at the mutilation of the common quote, I turned quizzically to my boyfriend.

“He messed up,” he confirmed in a whisper, “But it’s accurate in this case.”

I spent the remainder of the service wondering about the life and priorities of a man who left his family with that impression.

You can read the rest over at The Good Men Project, where I am now a contributing writer:)

My Story – Part 2

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Please watch Part 1 first:)

Thanks for the positive feedback on the first video. I thought it might give a more “human” feel to the story and I’m glad to see that that seems to be the case.

I want to address a couple points. First, I don’t consider myself brave. I just think there is a need for a public dialog about divorce and deception. This kind of situation is so much more common that we know (for both men and women) but many don’t talk about it because they feel ashamed or foolish. The only shame is in remaining silent and allowing this continue and for people to feel alone and unsupported.

I know there are those that wonder why I still write and talk about this now that I am happily remarried and have moved on. I talk about it because there are still those going through it. I talk about because I want to show the depths I came from and give hope to those still there. I talk about it to show that it’s okay to still feel sad sometimes and that our pasts are a part of us.

Those of that read me regularly know that I don’t spend much time talking about those first few awful weeks. That’s because it makes me hurt for the Lisa of five years ago. I wish I could tell her that it would be okay great and that she would have love and life again.

Without further ado, here’s part two:

 

And now on to Part 3!

My Story – Part 1

Posted on by stilllearning2b

And then check out Part 2.

Sleight of Mind

Posted on by stilllearning2b

 

Our minds are so skilled at focusing on one thing to the exclusion of others. We see what we expect to see. We look to verify our assumptions.

Sometimes our brains filter information so that we can focus on the most important information. Other times, our brains take shortcuts so that we can free up processing space for more pressing concerns.

But other times, our brains perform this sleight of mind in order to distract us from the real issues at hand.

I had someone contact me recently who was concerned about the attentions his wife gave to another man while they were separated. Because it was less painful to focus on that man than on the changing feelings of his wife.

I have a friend whose husband is suffering from a degenerative disease. She is focused on creating a home. Not because she doesn’t care about her husband, but because it is an area that is safe for her brain to tread.

After my ex left, I focused my attentions on the legal process and on trying to label him. It was too excruciating to process the loss, so my brain looked the other way.

We want so badly to have control. So we choose to focus on those things that we feel like we can change or command.

But remember, just because you didn’t see the bear, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

Your brain is a powerful magician.

But you can learn to see through its tricks.

 

Scars

Posted on by stilllearning2b

How do you handle your scars?

 

Not the physical ones, the mottled yet smooth flesh that speaks of wounds to the body. But the emotional ones. The invisible lesions that cross your heart born from trauma to the soul.

 

It’s strange, you know, how we wear the marks upon our flesh with pride or at least confirmation of a life lived fully. We speak of battle scars and wounds of adventure. We allow the twisted flesh to speak of our courage or enduring spirit. We share the stories behind the blemishes with only the slightest hint of embarrassment or shame. They are not lashes of judgment; they are simply the spoor of life upon our skin.

 

It’s strange, not that we share those marks with little thought, but that we hide our emotional wounds so deeply. We speak of them with derision, as though they are separate and shameful. We dismiss them as baggage and belittle those who carry it.

 

But those wounds formed by the piercing knife of betrayal or the crushing blow of loss also have stories to tell. Those marks from past relationships and failures also are the traces of our pasts. We hide our heart’s scars as though they are shameful. As though the vulnerability that allowed the attack must be kept secret and the signs left behind buried deep within.

 

I have always loved the images of people who have embraced massive physical scars by painting them with tattoos. The breastless women with colorful murals across their chests. The amputees with often humorous paintings claiming the site where the limb once reigned. The burn patients whose textured skin serves as a unique canvas for tattooed paintings. The surgical scars that are woven into a larger picture, part of the story but not the entire tale.

 

I am always stunned by the beauty. Even more so than those whose bodies display an airbrushed perfection. These are strong bodies. Bodies that have felt the claws of life and yet still stand proud. Bodies that do not hide their stories, but embrace them and claim them and speak them in their own way.

 

Tattooed Scar Gallery (warning: some pictures may be NSFW)

 

Scars are not a sign of weakness.

 

They show that you are not afraid of life.

 

Let them be your badge of honor rather than your burden.