I remember well the first time I felt that spark. My husband had left only months before and I was still reeling from the loss. I knew that I wanted to love again, to be in love again, but, at the time, that desire felt like an impossible dream. I was beginning to question whether I still contained the capacity to feel passion. To bond. To trust. My world was filled with pain and pain was the only language I was fluent in.
Read the rest on The Huffington Post.
One of the most common complaints in a relationship that has gone the distance is the lack of excitement. Of passion.
The spark fades and is replaced by a sense of comfort.
Of predictability.
It’s natural to look for stability in our relationships. We want to feel safe. We want to limit that oh-so-scary feeling of vulnerability. We may be willing to trade some of that early excitement for the comfort of knowing that our partner will be there and that we will be safe. We exchange passion for security.
The problem with this transaction is that security is merely an illusion. There is no such thing as a relationship that is divorce-proof. There are no guarantees. We are trading real goods for the promise of a return that may never come.
It makes sense to take certain precautions. Much like most pay their rent on time so they don’t have to live with the daily fear of being evicted, it makes sense to be cautious in love. But not so cautious that you trade all excitement for the false promise of invulnerability. Even perfect rent payments do not protect your home from burning down around you.
There are problems inherent with assuming too much security. You become complacent. Bored, even. You may begin to seek excitement and novelty outside of the the relationship. Eventually, your internal narrative regarding your spouse changes to match your perceptions, reinforcing the idea that the lack of passion is par for the course with him or her. The very assumption of stability can erode away the foundations of a relationship.
You can maintain passion. You can draw out excitement. But it does mean letting go of the illusion of security. It means protecting your passion even when it can be scary.
Try listening to your partner with an open mind rather than leading with assumptions. He or she will surprise you if you allow it. When you believe you know all there is to know about someone, you begin to fill in the gaps automatically. But if you listen, really listen, you may discover something you didn’t know. Of course, that something may also be against your preferences. There’s the trade-off.
Look at your partner as an individual. Watch them in their element. See the best side of them come alive. It may or may not be a characteristic that you normally witness in them. See it. Appreciate it. Recognize that you are a team but not a single entity. Your partner is his or her own person. As you are yours. Maintain some separation, some mystery. In that way, you always leave room for discovery.
Be proactive about maintaining experiences as a couple outside of routine. Routines allow us to function but they also become suffocating if you never deviate. Try new things. The excitement will transfer to the relationship. Embrace a certain amount of unpredictability. Don’t restrain laughter. Be willing to try and look foolish.
Don’t depend upon your partner to create passion. Find it yourself. Explore the things that bring you joy, that give you purpose and allow you to create. Your partner may not share your interest in gardening or ju-jitsu, but you can share the energy that it brings you. Take responsibility for your joy. Passion has a way of being contagious. Pass it on.
Amusement parks have created an entire industry around the balance of security and excitement. They know how to give you the feeling of vulnerability, with its associated joy when you emerge unscathed, without too much of the risk. You can find that balance in a relationship as well. Let go of the illusion of security. Actively seek excitement and novelty within the relationship. Protect your passion as diligently as you protect your heart.
Related: Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems
Somewhere around 2006, when I was working on my master’s degree, my ex husband moved his office from the second floor (across from mine) down to the basement. His reasoning made sense. He was working from home, our undersized AC couldn’t keep up with the strong afternoon sun that beat down on the upstairs location and he needed more desk space than the small bedroom could offer. It wasn’t an easy move; the basement was entirely unfinished and the HVAC wasn’t run to the bottom level. He spent several weeks framing the space, hanging the drywall and building a custom coffered drop ceiling. It was soon filled with his books, computers, a TV and a couch. I thought it was his office. In reality, it became his lair.
The downstairs location offered him the security of uninterrupted privacy. He had the sound of my footsteps on the wood stairs as a warning prior to my arrival. He had space where I rarely ventured to tuck away items he didn’t want found. He could carry out conversations far away from any opportunity of being overheard.
I thought it was his office. In reality, it became the mission control center where he destroyed his life and our marriage.
As a result, the fear I never had of basements as a child materialized as an adult.
It took a while for this distrust to become apparent. For 2 1/2 years, I lived in homes without a basement. And then Brock and I moved into our current rental. With a basement. That, because of the configuration of the home, would house his office.
I had trouble at first as he expressed his desire to upgrade the pretty much unfinished space. Each plan of his spurred flashbacks of the old. It turned out that the house had my back; the basement pushed back with its moisture issues and bad smells, driving Brock to move his office to the dining room before the first year was up.
I didn’t even realize that I still harbored my fear of basements until recently. In the new (hopefully “our” in a couple weeks!) house, both offices will be upstairs but the basement will house Brock’s dream – a “man room” complete with home theater. This may be his dream (I just can’t understand the desire for another TV room when it’s just the two us but, then again, he doesn’t understand my obsession with ferns and hydrangeas), but he has made it very clear that it is “our” space.
And, even more importantly, I have zero reason to think that he is building out the basement for any reasons more sinister than to watch some silly (at least to me) animated movie featuring Superman.
But still my mind throws up flares of panic.
The damn dominos are set in my mind: marriage>basement>bigamy. Yeah, dumb, I know. Otherwise, wives all over the place would be backfilling their basements. But minds aren’t always rational.
Even worse, I wasn’t even aware of my brain’s protestations as I normally am. (I’m blaming this on the sheer amount on my brain at the moment, by the way:) ) Instead, I made comments like, “I’m never going to see you again” as we discussed the plans for the man cave. Sarcastic? Yeah. But still a cry for attention from a panicking brain.
I’ve come a long way from the woman who halfway didn’t expect Brock to pick her up at the airport (could that actually be over three years ago?!?). I know he is not my ex. I trust him.
But apparently I don’t trust basements.
Much like it takes time to layer over triggers, I also need to layer over cause and effects (or correlations) from my past.
It may be a basement, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lair.
After all, I slayed the dragon.
I think this basement is more a bat cave for a wanna-be superhero.
I can live with that:)
Search for “divorce” on Twitter, and you find countless posts like the following:
I don’t believe in divorce….when me and my partner have problems we will sit down, talk and work it out! Commitment for life
As though one can make divorce not real simply by pretending it doesn’t exist. I hate to break it to them, but divorce is kinda like gravity’s impact on an aging body; it exists whether you want to admit it or not.
I didn’t believe in divorce either. I believed in commitment. In working things out. In staying together. However, my husband did not feel the same way.
The problem with the Twitter quote above is that it completely neglects to acknowledge your partner’s view and actions, neither of which are under your jurisdiction.
You may not believe in divorce but if your partner stops believing in the marriage, you’ll change your mind real fast.
I try to remember that these statements are coming from ignorance and a lack of exposure. These are people who have not been touched by divorce. These are people that believe that promises made can never be broken. These are people who think that their wishes are strong enough to ward off any unwanted situations.
I both envy and pity them.
I was them.
I had that certainty, that confidence in my marriage. I believed that divorce couldn’t happen to me because I didn’t want it to. I didn’t realize that my husband had developed a different view. My certainty that it couldn’t happen to me meant that I was blindsided. I was betrayed, not only by my husband, but also by my beliefs.
I worry about those who believe that it can never happen to them. I hope they are right and they never face the pain of lives torn apart. However, I worry that many of them will realize that belief is not enough to hold a marriage together.
The most difficult aspect of any relationship is the acceptance that your partner is an individual with his or her own thoughts and actions. You cannot control them. You cannot change them. All you can do is love them and embrace them while being the best you can be.
Maybe instead of saying, “I don’t believe in divorce,” it should be, “I believe in doing everything possible on my side to ensure that we do not divorce and I hope that you can do the same.”
Now that’s something I can believe in.
Next week, I will meet 120 strangers. They won’t remain strangers for long. I’ll soon learn their names (okay, maybe “soon” isn’t the right word…this seems to take longer and longer every year!). I’ll discover their likes and dislikes, their celebrity crushes (please no Bieber this year!) and their favorite clothing brands. I’ll hear about their summers, their siblings, their pets and their families. I’ll figure out who needs to be pushed and who needs extra TLC.
These kids will be in my life for 180 days. Most of them, I will never see again after May. These are relationships with an expiration date. Before I ever meet them, I know when the connection will end.
There is an urgency to teaching. I have around 160 hours (once you subtract out testing days) with each of these students. In that time, I have to teach them the 8th grade math as well as remediate any gaps from prior years. I have to improve their reading and writing abilities. I have to help them mature and grow as students and as people. I have to form relationships, as that is the single best way to motivate a middle schooler. I seek to teach them the importance of perseverance and of failure. I want to inspire them to make healthy choices and to become role models themselves. I want to be remembered, not as their favorite teacher, but as the one that pushed them and helped them realize their potential.
Every moment has an importance with that expiration date on the horizon.
On the flip side, when they are driving me crazy (shocking, I know, but middle schoolers can be trying at times!), I remember that it is temporary. The child who constantly argues or interrupts will be gone from my room before I know it.
The expiration date minimizes the impact of those negative moments.
When I entered my first marriage, I saw it as a relationship with no expiration date. We were young and it seemed like our time together would stretch on forever. Moments passed without importance because we were sure there would be many more on the horizon. Only when the marriage unexpectedly spoiled, did I realize that there were wasted times that slipped through.
With my soon to be second marriage, I know that it has an end. I hope that the end is far in the future, but there is no way to be certain. We’re older and more aware of the end of life and of the illnesses that can strike out of nowhere. I am more aware that marriages can falter even without intent. I no longer count on those untold years in some imagined future, as they may never materialize.
I treat my relationship now as though it has an expiration date. I savor each wonderful moment and don’t fixate on the frustrating ones. I know I have a limited time and I want to make the most of it. Only in this case, I’m not worried about teaching math concepts:)
And for today, making the most of it means taking a family hike before the craziness of a new school year, a move and a wedding. I’m not at the precipice anymore; I’m taking the plunge!
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 