How to Move In Together (Without Losing Your Mind)

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“What do you think about moving in with me?” The text said, signed by Tiger.

tiger3

“I’m not sure your crate is big enough for two,” I typed back, humor acting as a buffer for my careening emotions.

As I waited for a response, I looked around my space. My space. Really the only time I had an entire place all to myself. I had made it into a sanctuary of sorts. Sparse, yet containing elements that made me feel peaceful and hopeful. Almost every item was purchased post-divorce and so there was a newness. A freshness. A clean slate. An incubator nurturing me back to health.

I thought of Brock’s home. It didn’t have the same sense of peace that I had carefully cultivated in my healing space. And then I thought of Brock. And the potential we had that was really making itself evident in the last few months. Being together was more important than keeping my white slipcover spotless.

As with everything in our relationship, we stepped slowly. Carefully. Intentionally. He first brought up cohabitating in December and my lease didn’t expire until June. We used that time to adjust to the idea and, most importantly, to talk through the anticipated issues ahead of time.

Moving in together is exciting. And it’s also a challenging transition in any relationship. It softens the boundaries between the individuals. It tests the communication and negotiation skills of the pair. The shared walls act as an amplifier of any discord and the removal of their own place to escape to can create panic.

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Moving in together can be stressful. Here’s how to do it without losing your mind:

If Possible…

Start fresh. It’s so much easier to build a space together than for one person to try to carve out a niche in the other’s home. Especially if that home holds memories of a former relationship. It allows for less emotional negotiations for space and decor when you’re both opening the boxes. Of course, that’s not always possible.

If Your Partner Is Moving In To Your Space…

A few weeks before I moved in, Brock cleared out his guest bedroom. “This is your space,” he said when I came over later that night, “Paint it and do whatever you want to it.” Before long, the grey walls and the addition of my couch and rug made that space a smaller version of my apartment sanctuary. It was perfect and it was mine.

They are not a guest. And treating them like one will make their stay temporary. Don’t invite somebody to move in until you’re ready to relinquish control over (some) of your home.

Start by clearing out. Designate closet space. Make space for pieces of their furniture.Don’t be stingy – one empty drawer says, “This is my territory and I’m allowing you to encroach on it.” An empty dresser says, “I’m ready to share my life with you.”

Ask what is important to them and work together to try to incorporate it. Allow them to make some changes and imprint their preferences. Even better if you work on same changes together.

Don’t expect them to do things your way. They are not only bringing their clothes, they are bringing their way of living.

If You Are Moving Into Your Partner’s Space…

Communicate, communicate, communicate! Ask what areas they are willing to clear out. Be clear about what you want to bring in. If you want a space that it yours and your alone, make that desire clear.

You are in a tricky situation. If you tiptoe around and try not to leave a mark, you are acting as a guest and not a partner. That mindset will backfire as you feel stifled and unimportant. On the other hand, getting a key does not give you free reign to go all HGTV on the place and reinvent it in your taste. Wait too long to make changes and it will be assumed that you’re okay with the staus quo. Make them too quickly and it will feel aggressive and territorial.

Be patient with your partner; it’s not easy letting go of being the master of your domain. Yet also be clear and consistent about your needs to share the space, not just occupy it.

In both cases of one person moving into an existing home, make a purchase of something for the house together. It can be as small as a throw pillow. But it carries a big message – this is now our home.

If One Person is Messier…

Buy black towels. I found myself frustrated when my largely white IKEA kitchen towels became stained within days of moving in. So I went to Target and dropped $7.99 on a new set of towels, this time in I-can’t-see-the-red-wine-on-them black. And it’s never frustrated me again. Creativity will take you a lot further than criticism.

It’s easy for the neater person to see themselves as superior. To believe that there way is the “right” way and to expect the messier person to shoulder the burden of change. But unless you’re keeping your house show-ready for a sale, there is no “right” way to live. Instead of painting the messier one as wrong, try looking at it from a team perspective – what can we do to meet the needs of both (which in our case, is a monthly house cleaner and separate bathrooms). And be prepared for both people to make some compromises.

If You Have Different Needs for Personal Time and Space…

I see it happen all the time. One person assumes that moving in means that the couple will now share everything. That yours and mine fail to exist and that every minute home is spent together. Meanwhile, the other believes that the current amount of time spent together will persist even when households are merged. One ends up feeling neglected and the other ends up feeling smothered.

We all need different amounts of personal time and space. Often those needs aren’t clearly expressed until cohabitation occurs, since separate homes give plenty of opportunity for retreat. Once moved in, the frustration can build and fights can erupt over the issue.

If you’re the one needing more space, speak up. Make sure you communicate that it’s about your own need to recharge and that it’s not a rejection of your partner. If your partner needs more space, strive to not take it personally and ensure that you are not depending on them for all of your social, emotional and entertainment needs.

If You’re Sharing the Rent or Mortgage…

Don’t make assumptions. They’re dangerous, especially when made up until the bill becomes due. Make sure that the negotiations feel fair to both partners and reflect actual income and personal financial obligations. If you’re the one who insists on a big cable package and your partner is indifferent, that may be your expense to bear. If one person cares more about decor, that may be on their dime.

Figure out how accounts will be managed – completely separate, fully combined or some combination of the two? Are you still thinking about money only from your perspective or are you starting to make and work towards shared financial goals? Is one of you a svaer and one a spender? How will those differences be handled?

Moving in together sets the tone for how you and partner handle finances. In other words, it’s important, especially because fights about money are one of the major causes of divorce. Make sure these conversations happen early and often, even if they’re uncomfortable. I personally love the idea of a weekly, monthly or quarterly “budget meeting,” where expenses are tallied and approaches analyzed. It holds both people accountable and keeps money from becoming a manipulative tactical device.

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Above all, maintain a sense of humor throughout the process. It’s amazing how much easier transition is when you can find ways to laugh about it. And like any transition, it’s hardest at the beginning. Hang in there – it gets easier:)

Why I’m Attracted to People With a Difficult Past

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It happens to me all the time.

A knowing look between virtual strangers. Words left unsaid yet with full meaning comprehended. A nod to the side, understood to reference “all that”in the midst of casual conversation.

It says, “I see you. And I see that you have suffered. And even though I don’t know your story, I know that we are kin.”

People that have a past, that have been through stuff, have a way of finding each other. It’s a club none of signed up for, yet we now all know the secret handshakes and code words used to identify other members.

If I inventoried the people most important to me, their combined tragedies would fill a country music album. There are motherless children, those who have been abused and abandoned, people who are enduring long and painful and scary medical ordeals and others who have suffered great losses.

But suffering isn’t the only thing they have in common.

They also have the overcoming (or at least the first steps) of it.

—–

One of the reasons I was attracted to my first husband was that he had a maturity and perspective that comes from going through difficult experiences. It made him stand out from the largely affluent and untouched kids at my high school. As my own life experiences – a sense of abandonment by my dad, a health crisis and the unexpected deaths of several friends – compounded, I no longer felt as though I had anything in common with the average 16 year old.

Then I met him.

And we had that unspoken conversation. That handshake of pain. A meeting of eyes that had seen more than they should.

We didn’t feel as though we belonged in the worlds we inhabited. But we felt as though we belonged together.

It was an hysterical bonding of sorts. A grasping. A union born from suffering.

Of course, I didn’t see any of that at the time. I just knew that I felt understood. That he could relate to facing challenges greater than deciding what to wear the next day or what to do when you hadn’t studies for a test.

Little did I know that he would later become the source of my greatest life lesson to date.

—–

It’s completely natural for people that have difficult pasts to gravitate towards one another. After all, we often bond over shared experiences and beliefs. And we look for people that can relate to and empathize with our own situations.

That attraction isn’t always healthy; however, sometimes bonds formed from suffering become mired in suffering. The pain simply is transferred from one to another, keeping it nurtured and alive. Sometimes one person takes on a victim role and the other, needing to be needed, plays the savior. The past can become the seed that holds the relationship together and a reticence to release it (and possibly the bond) develops.

I see these unhealthy relationships like two weak swimmers trying to save the other from drowning. The combined efforts only seek to weight them both down.

—–

When I started dating again after divorce, I intentionally looked for men that didn’t have pasts. They were surprisingly common, those guys that had made through 30, 35 even 40 years of life relative unscathed.

They intrigued me.

But they didn’t attract me.

Sure, they weren’t as superficial and two-dimensional as a gaggle of sheltered teenagers.

They were perfectly nice and nothing was glaringly wrong.

But they also didn’t get it.

They had never had to face a loss that made every breath feel as though oxygen had been replaced with concrete. They had never been forced to dig so deep within themselves that they feared they would get lost before they got out. They had an easy assurance that everything was going to be okay. Because for them, it always had been.

I felt separate from them. Different.

And I also felt a strange need to protect them. To let them be in their unaffected worldview for as long as fate allowed.

They seemed fragile to me. Untoughened. Untested.

I was equally uninterested in men who still lived in their pasts and showed no signs of wanting to move on or those who tried to pretend that it wasn’t a big deal. I knew what happened when suffering was damped down and pushed aside – my ex taught me that one. And I had no desire to live someone else’s past.

I found myself attracted to men who had been through the lows of life and had climbed out, one difficult step at a time. Someone who also knew how bad it could be and yet hadn’t given up. Someone who developed strength with every step and wisdom from every glance back. Someone who wouldn’t pull me down or carry me along, but who would walk with me.

We’re often dismissive of difficult pasts as being unwanted baggage.

Yet often the people with the most to carry have the greatest spirits.

—–

When I look around at the amazing people I choose to have in my life, I’m blown away by their resilience and attitudes. I surround myself with them because they understand and also because they inspire.

 

I’m Determined to Make Marriage Work: Valuable Lessons From Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b
second marriage

“A second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience.” Oscar Wilde

“This is it, though.” I said to my then-boyfriend when he brought up the idea of marriage. “I want to be married again but this is it. I’m not going through another divorce.”

And with that vow, I decided to do some things differently in my second marriage. Because even though there is no such thing as divorce-proof, I can still make sure that I do everything I can to inoculate my second marriage from dissolution.

Choosing Differently

I based my choice of my first husband largely upon how he treated me. I chose my second husband more because of how he treated people other than me. It’s easy to treat somebody well when you’re in the sunshine-and-roses stage of a new relationship. That’s more a sign of hormones than character. But how somebody treats people in general? That’s telling.

I also looked for concrete signs in my second husband that he wasn’t afraid of imperfection and that he had a proclivity to repair rather than replace. My ex was concerned about appearances. How he was perceived. Weakness and flaws were to be feared and concealed. In contrast, my second husband sees cracks as an opportunity for creative problem-solving and reworking. I’m still learning from him on that one.

Awareness That Sustainability is Not Inevitable

I assumed that my first husband would always be there because he always had been there. I expected that marriage to last because I wanted it to. I thought that since we had been okay, that we would continue to be okay.

It was a naive view of marriage – seeing it like a Rube Goldberg design with it’s upfront work followed by effortless activity. I see more like a garden now. Yes, much of the work is concentrated in the beginning. But it takes constant monitoring and consistent attention to ensure its continuation. If it’s neglected for too long, the flowers will fall to weeds.

Never Take Anything For Granted (And Never Fail to Share Appreciation)

My ex husband was good to me. But I wasn’t always good to him. I transferred my work stress onto his shoulders, lessening my load but also burdening him. I would thank him for some kind deed, but then negate it with criticism about some detail. I expected him to help and grew accustomed to his willingness to do so.

Now, I allow myself to be surprised at every gesture of kindness or every offer of help. Not because it’s rare, but because I appreciate it every time. And I more generous with sharing that appreciation and keeping any disappointment in the details to myself. To say, “Thank you,” rather than “Thank you, but…”

Allow My Husband to Feel Like a Man

Perhaps because my first husband didn’t fit neatly into society’s stereotypes about being “a man,” or maybe because I went through my formative dating years without my dad around, I didn’t have an awareness of the importance of certain conditions and their impact on a man’s self-worth.

From my now-husband, I’ve learned about the importance of feeling like a man. Of feeling in control over his domain. Of being recognized for his contributions. Of feeling a need to protect his family. Of feeling a need to appear the strongest when at the most vulnerable. And of the shame and emptiness that can come from not feeling like a man.

Do My Own Thing (And Encourage Him to Do His)

My ex and I used to do most everything together. We enjoyed each other’s company and we enjoyed many of the same experiences. We even shared many of the same friends. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it meant that we grew to depend upon each other for much of our social, intellectual and entertainment needs. And that’s a lot to ask of one person.

Although I may sometimes grumble that I’m a Ju Jitsu widow, I’m glad that my now-husband has passions apart from me. And I make sure to engage in mine as well. Our separate interests keep us interesting to each other. It means that we get some of our needs met elsewhere, placing less demand on the marriage. I miss him sometimes, yet that also means that I’m always happy to see him.

Prioritize Self-Care and Extinguish Martyrdom

I can have an ugly tendency to do it all and expect empathy or recognition for my efforts. In my first marriage, I sacrificed my well-being for the financial health of the family, taking on every additional school and tutoring assignment that I could. Rather than doing it from a place of generosity, I often did it from a place of martyrdom – look how much I’m working for us.

Needless to say, that’s not a healthy approach. I now strive to recognize when I’m slipping into that mindset and when it’s noticed, I either shift to a place of giving or I switch to a period of self-care. I also work to be careful of my decisions. Rather than claiming I’m doing something because of someone else, I recognize that I’m choosing to do (or not so) that thing. The other person may be a factor, but they are not the causal factor.

Manage My State of Arousal and Anxiety

I can get pretty worked up. My emotions and anxieties can build until they feel like soda bubbles beneath my skin. In my first marriage, my ex became the expert at talking me down. All he had to do was wrap me in his arms, skin to skin, and my heart rate would quickly slide back down to normal. I grew dependent upon that power. And he abused that power.

When my anxiety is spiking, I can’t reason well. I can’t engage meaningfully and fairly in a difficult conversation. And I can’t listen fully because the fears are screaming too loudly. I’ve spent the past almost seven years (wow – has it actually been that long?!?) learning to recognize and tame my anxiety. I’m not always successful. But I’m always working to be better. And it’s my responsibility.

Have Patience With Problems and Openness With Solutions

I’m impatient when it comes to…well, just about anything. And problems (or perceived problems) in my marriage are not exempt. When I used to be upset at my ex for something, I would bring it up right away and expect an immediate solution. That led to a lot of bandaids, I figure, hiding the bleeding fatal wounds beneath.

I’m now more patient (sometimes too patient – always learning!) with bringing up issues. And I try to pose them as questions to be answered, not as problems with solutions I’ve already devised (which, let’s face it, usually consists of the other person needing to change). I try to be open to solutions that I haven’t thought of and be accepting of the fact that they may take time to work out. Curiosity and a sense a teamwork go a long way in negotiating life with another.

Be Willing to Confront and Challenge

When my ex was laid off yet again and had trouble locating a new company in his limited field, he elected to go solo. I supported him completely, surrounding him with pep talks and agreeing with all his decisions. But underneath, I had doubts. Both in his business model and in his justifications of money spent on equipment and software. Instead of just nodding along, I should have challenged his decisions. But I was afraid to.

When I have concerns now, I voice them. Not in an effort to shoot my husband down, but with the goal of helping him – and helping us – make better and more informed decisions. I’m not afraid to stand up to him, even if it means my toes get stepped on. A little bruising of the feelings is better than standing back and letting someone veer off course.

Trust But Verify

My avoidance of verification got me into real trouble in my first marriage. I took his word way too easily because it’s what it seemed on the surface and what I wanted it to be deep down. In my second marriage, I trust my husband. But it’s not blind trust.

I am also more aware of the importance of trusting myself. To see what’s there and to be okay even if I don’t like what I find. I’m better at checking in with my intuition and making sure it agrees with what I’m being told.

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It’s sad how many of us don’t really learn how to do marriage until we’ve buried one. I guess it’s one of those areas where we have to experience it to really learn it. I’m just determined to not need a repeat of the lessons. Because that’s a class no one ever wants to take again!

 

 

 

 

 

Is Divorce Your Only Option?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I first read this piece by Matt on why he declined to participate in Huffington Post’s collection on when divorce is the only option, my knee-jerk response was that sometimes divorce is the only option.

When I filed for divorce, my husband was MIA, married to another woman and still actively funneling my credit and paycheck towards his new life.

I certainly didn’t see any other option other than cutting those legal ties as quickly as possible.

But what if I had discovered the infidelities (financial and relational) months before? The decision to divorce at that point would not have been so clear. Perhaps he could have received intensive treatment for addiction. Maybe trust could be rebuilt along with the finances, a team approach towards mending a broken marriage.

And if I had been aware of his shame or his unhappiness or his struggles with employment years before the end (and realized my own fear of confrontation), the entire trajectory of those final years could have been altered. Tracks built together towards a different future.

What if we had made a more conscious start to our relationship rather than simply following one foot in front of the other? What if we had spent more time discussing the potential hardships that can befall a marriage and explore ways to avoid those traps?

Or, tracing that reasoning all the way back, what if I had been more aware of my own struggles with abandonment and anxiety and more attuned to his struggles with avoidance and shame when we first started dating? Maybe I would have chosen a different husband. One that wouldn’t have made divorce the only option.

Any marriage can get to a point (The “F” It Point) where divorce becomes the only option.

From ‘Til Death Do You Part?:

I see the vows as like the wheels on a bicycle. Ideally, both are fully functioning and working in concert. If one tire is a little flat, the other can help support the weight for a time until the tire is re-inflated. If one wheel is bent, the ride may not be over as long as the metal is hammered back into shape. Yet if one wheel is removed, the bicycle is useless no matter how hard the remaining wheel works. And it’s time to either find a new wheel or learn how to ride a unicycle.

But that point doesn’t spontaneously generate. And its creation is ultimately the responsibility of both partners.

Sometimes divorce is the only option.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

If you enter marriage with your eyes open and your ego checked.

If you commit to fixing yourself rather than blaming another.

If you quiet your fears enough to face the truth and trust that you can make it through.

And if you understand that divorce is always an option and that it takes awareness, intention and effort for it to never become the only option.

Should I Divorce? 12 Questions to Consider

 

The (Mostly) Unfortunate Side Effects of Being Ghosted

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Being ghosted is the relationship equivalent of the missing persons case. Except in this case, the person chose to go missing. Decided to disappear, leaving you abandoned and doubting.

Being ghosted is heartache seasoned with questions. It’s loss co-mingled with rage. It’s hard to know when to stop hoping and when to start grieving. It’s challenging to put down the mystery before the secret’s revealed and instead pick up the self-help and start to apply its principles.

Before you can move on from being ghosted, you have to understand the impact that it’s had on you. The unfortunate side effects of being ghosted:

Your confidence will take a hit as you question why you were unworthy of a conversation.

You will struggle to take others at their word and you will struggle even more with trusting your own perceptions and conclusions.

Balance between naivety and panic will be hard to find as you try to talk yourself off a ledge while at the same time looking up at the sky for the other shoe to slam into your head.

You may begin to grow towards perfectionism like a plant towards light, some inner voice whispering that you were left because you weren’t good enough.

Prior abandonment, through death, divorce or even adoption will be triggered. And the unwanted child within you will cry at night.

Details become everything. Data points to be combed and connected, looking for clues. And this is not only applied to the ghost, but to any new relationship as well.

The ghosting itself becomes a mystery, a rough stone that tumbles endlessly through your mind as you look for cracks that will reveal what happened. It’s easy to become obsessed with why it happened.

You may be swallowed by depression as the anger and blame is turned inward with no outward target in sight.

Trivial things will grow in importance – the last place you saw the person, the last word, the last embrace. They will grow until they almost overshadow the ghost themselves.

Small disappointments have the ability to become catastrophic as the ghosting has kicked one leg out from under you and it doesn’t take much to make you topple to the floor.

You’ll make sure that you can always be independent at the drop of a hat, financially and otherwise.

You become a screenwriter, crafting narratives around what happened and continuing the threads into an imagined future where you try to figure out where your ex is now.

Emotional walls are constructed in an attempt to keep one safe from others prone to disappearance. Walls that don’t discriminate and keep out the helpers as well as the ghosts.

Numbness sets in, spreading out from your frozen and shattered heart. Some days, it almost seems as though you’re outside yourself.

A fear of discord develops. After all, a disagreement can be a reason to leave.

The rituals of coming and going take on a greater importance. Reassurance that the person will return and celebration when they have.

Certain headlines and news stories catch your eye and you always search for their name.

You may fight an urge to be clingy, wrapped so tightly around someone that they cannot easily shake you off.

You scan crowds looking for signs of your ghost. It’s a bit like a horror movie – you don’t want to look, but you’re compelled to.

You respond irrationally to anything that reminds you of the precursors of the ghosting.

Rage will fill you at the unfairness of it all and you will scream at the injustice of having your voice taken away from you.

Mystery is eventually pushed out by clarity as you start to put together the pieces you were unable or unwilling to see before.

You will begin to see a distinction between you and your ghost, who you are will no longer be defined by what happened to you.

With some time and some distance, relief will begin to permeate. Relief that you’re alive. And even relief that they’re gone.

And at some point, the side effects will be gone as well.

 

For a great piece about the characteristics of ghosters, click here.

And if you want to explore the benefits of being ghosted (no, really), check this out!