After Being Cheated On: Feeling Like You’re Not Enough

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It’s a common reaction when you discover you’ve been cheated on:

“What did the affair partner have that I don’t?”

We dive headfirst into the assumption that we’re somehow lacking and that our deficits prompted our partners to stray. After all, if we were enough to satisfy them, why would they be hungry for more?

Sometimes, we funnel this into trying to make ourselves “enough” for them, morphing and minimizing in an attempt to be wanted. Other times, this feeling of not being enough is carried quietly as the rejection is internalized and self-worth is minimized.

Yet this narrative – that they strayed because we were not enough –  is categorically false.

Before you accept that the affair(s) happened because of what you’re lacking, consider the following:

 

The Cheater Benefits From Blaming You

It is in their self-interest to spread the blame for the affair as much as possible to limit their own responsibility. They will gladly declare that, “If you only…” or “You never…” in order to deflect your attention from their betrayal.

Sometimes these accusations hurt because they contain a kernel of truth. Maybe you haven’t been giving the relationship the attention it deserves or you have let yourself slide from the early days of the marriage. Yet, those are no excuse for infidelity nor are they a critique of your character.

If the cheater can get you to believe that “you made them do it,” they can continue to see themselves as a good guy as they cast you as the villain. They are not an impartial director. Fire them and embrace the true nature of your character.

 

The Affair Partner is a Blank Slate

Once the affair begins, you, through no fault of your own, become a source of discomfort for your partner. When they look at you, they may feel guilty about what they’re doing behind your back and they feel a tension between how they’re viewed by you and what they are doing. Or, if they delight in getting away with deception, they begin to see you as weak because you’re falling for it. (Yet, in my book, trusting in your spouse is not a character flaw.)

The affair partner is a fresh start. They may be complicit in the affair, in which case, the guilt is shared and in the open. Perhaps they are gullible, without the knowledge that you have to counteract the image that the cheater wants to project to others. Or, maybe they are a fresh person to deceive, bringing the cheater a sense of delight in again being able to fool people.

In these cases, the affair partner does have something that you don’t. But is it something that you want?

 

Cheaters Want Fantasy, Not Reality

And the affair partner can provide that for a time.

They often remain mysterious for longer as dalliances are limited by external factors. The affair is carried out in a bubble, separate from the real-world pressures and challenges. Those unknowns and time apart are filled in with mental images and assumptions.

You can’t compete with that any more than a real woman can compete with an airbrushed image in a fashion magazine. It’s not that the affair partner is better, it’s that in many ways, they are created by the cheater’s projections and desires, unchallenged by the harsher light of the real world.

Instead of trying to compare yourself to fiction, celebrate the fact that you’re real, authentic and multidimensional. That’s better than a fabrication any day.

 

One Person’s Choice Doesn’t Determine Value

When you see the person in front of you at a buffet pass up the strawberry cake (your personal favorite), do you jump to the conclusion that something must be wrong with the cake?

So why assume that your partner’s choice of something different is a direct reflection of you?

 

I’ve said this before, but I think it bears repeating:

Never let a person of questionable character determine your worth.

 

 

 

 

Do You Ever Hear That Voice?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you ever hear that voice? The one that tells you that you’re not (good/smart/strong/thin/pretty/rich) enough?

The voice that finds your insecurities and broadcasts them back to you?

The voice that makes you question your choices. Your life. Your worth.

Do you ever hear it? Do you listen?

I’ve been listening to it lately.

It started innocently enough. I needed to buy a new pair of sandals to replace a pair that self-destructed. I made a stop at the shoe store on my way to gym. At the store, I took off my gym shoes and peeled off my socks only to discover that the polish on my toenails was chipped and half rubbed off (the natural consequence of spending more time running than on toe painting).

I looked up and noticed that all of the other women in the store were perfectly polished – nails and otherwise.

I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed.

The voice whispered to me that I was not good enough.

I got over it enough to locate a pair of sandals and escape to gym, where I thought I would be safe.

But the voice followed.

It watched the other women in the gym and was quick to point out comparisons.

“Look at that! She can squat 140 pounds. You can’t do that!”

“Oh, look. She’s wearing that cute Athleta outfit you wanted. Too bad you only have your old race t-shirt on.”

“Look at her form on leg lifts! You’ll never be flexible enough to do that.”

Over the next couple weeks, the voice was like a malignant parrot on my shoulder. I’d shake it off for a time, but it kept coming home to roost. It seemed to feel the need to comment on every area of my life:

When a pair of shorts I wore last summer wouldn’t quite make the journey over my hips, “Well, look at that. Getting a little chunky there, are we?”

When one of my students complained about a boring lesson, “Wow, you can’t even make M&Ms entertaining. That’s pretty bad.”

When I looked at my book sales and saw that they had slipped, “What did you expect? It’s not like you’re any good at this.”

When another week went by and I hadn’t finished a piece I started for Huffpo, “You’re just a fraud anyways. Just give up on it.”

Yesterday, after more than a week of this verbal abuse by my own critical mind, I decided I would take some action. I stopped at Walmart on the way to yoga, thinking that some new makeup would do the trick. Maybe eye liner has some magical gag order action. The eyeliner is nice (and much easier to apply than the broken, stubby pencil I had been using that always threatened to leave splinters along with its color) but it didn’t shut up the voice.

That’s because I was allowing the voice to distract me from the true insecurities.

I wasn’t really upset about unpainted toenails or curvier hips.

It’s bigger than that.

The life of a teacher has a rhythm: frantic action in August and September settle into a routine that slowly builds in intensity until it peaks in May. And then we breathe.

Except I’m not content to simply breathe.

I’m not content to simply be a teacher.

I want more.

But I don’t know how.

Last summer, I was singularly focused on finishing the book and getting the wellness coaching business up and running.

I succeeded on both fronts.

This year, I have so much I want to do.

But I also have doubts. Am I wasting my time and energy? Which paths do I explore and which should I ignore?

Last summer, I posted four small bulletin boards above my desk, labeled body (marathon training), book (notes, etc. for writing it), blog (goals and post ideas) and business (goals and info for the coaching). I have not altered the boards much since the summer. As I look through the pages tacked to the squares, I realize that I am accomplished most of what I intended last summer.

So why is it not enough?

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Change is scary. Risk is scarier still. My inner critic is telling me to maintain the status quo, to not dare to post bigger goals and intentions. The voice tells me not to try so that I do not risk failure.

Today, I am telling my inner voice to shove it.

I am dedicating today to rebuilding my boards. I am committing to posting bigger goals and aspirations than before. I am pledging to sort through my ideas and clarify my paths. I am promising to use those boards as inspiration and motivation this summer.

So, yeah, I hear that voice. But today, I’m telling it to shut up. After I paint my toenails, that is:)

(This post makes me think of that old SNL skit with Stewart Smally: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.” 🙂 )

More, Please

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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My cat has developed a poor habit of late. She herds us towards her dishes and yowls incessantly, asking for more even though her bowls contain adequate amounts of food and water. It’s like she looks at them but doesn’t believe them. She can only be silenced by the sound of the food in the container where we store it. A simple mock pour will placate her for a time until she yet again demands more of what she already has.

It’s an exasperating habit, especially since she seems to be most likely to share her anguish between the hours of two and four. In the morning.

I don’t know what drives her need: fear? confusion? greed? dominance? Or maybe she just finds humor in making her humans dance.

The act, regardless of its motivations, drives me crazy. But I can relate.

There are times in my life when I exclaim that I do not have enough instead of seeing what I actually have.

“I don’t have enough time.”

Yes I do. But this sentence shifts the responsibility off of me and onto the rapidity of the earth’s rotations. Clever, huh? What I really mean when I use this phrase is that the purposed actions are not important enough for me to make time. Time is there. It’s up to me how I allocate it. It’s also up to me to learn to take responsibility for that.

“I don’t have enough money.”

This one is fear talking. I have enough money to live, to pay my bills and have some fun. What I don’t have is enough money to sooth my anxiety, a fallback fund large enough to quell fears about the future. I’m (slowly) working to build that fund, but in the meantime, I can work on the fears, many of which are rooted in unreality.

“I don’t have enough stuff.”

Yup, confusion talking here. It’s all too easy to get caught up in the idea that happiness can be bought. I find myself flipping through catalogues or fighting the urge to hit the stores when I am unsettled in some way. Material goods will only distract for a short time. Happiness can only be found within. And, the reality? I have the stuff I need.

“I don’t have enough followers/likes/comments/book sales.”

Let’s be honest. It’s nice to have people want to hear what you have to say. It’s nice to be appreciated. respected. It’s nice, but it’s also a slippery slope. It’s easy to get carried away with the numbers game, only feeling validated when they reach some ever-increasing quantity. The problem then is that you never feel satisfied with what you have.  I’m working on bringing my yogic mind to blogging and accepting what is rather than wasting energy wishing for more.

How often do we fail to see what we really have? How often do we wish for more than we need? Look at what you have before bemoaning what you want.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. My cat is yowling for more food.