My ex husband has visited me the past several nights.
Not in person, thank goodness, but in my dreams.
When I awoke from the first one, I found myself strangely calm and more than a little perplexed. I was surprised for a couple reasons. I’m nearing the tenth anniversary of the day the marriage died and I have not had a dream about my ex husband in the last nine of those years. So it was more than a little weird to “see” him now.
I was even more astonished at my lack of emotional residue after awakening. Because the last time he visited my dreams, I woke up feeling physically ill and emotionally traumatized. Not to mention completely repulsed at his image imprinted on my brain.
But these recent dreams have been different. In them, he approaches me calmly. Like a normal human would, no longer wearing the monstrous skin he donned when he vacated the marriage. And I respond to his advance like a normal human. No shaking, no emotional tsunamis, no reaction at all really.
There are no words exchanged in the dream that I have been able to recall. And the only touch that I remember was his hand on my shoulder in that way that you do when you’re trying to provide comfort to a relative stranger. Which I guess we are.
I wonder why he is appearing in my dreams now after being absent for so long? Perhaps the significance of a decade apart is tugging at my brain? Or maybe the resolution I’ve had in my waking life for some time is finally settling in to my unconscious brain?
But there’s another explanation that I like the best. It’s silly, really. Not based in scientific reality in the slightest. Yet it somehow feels right. Maybe, just maybe, he’s coming to me now as a kind of peace offering, a sign that he’s in a good place and ready to both acknowledge and learn from the past. These visits are his energetic way of honoring what we once were to each other and offering a blessing to where we are now.
Silly? Yes. But I still accept the peace offering. Even if it’s only in my own head.
The delighted squeal that would escape your lips when luck granted you a ladder, bypassing multiple rows in a single move?
The utter helplessness and defeat when that same luck turned and landed you on a chute, plummeting you back to the beginning?
After the divorce, I felt like I was trapped in some twisted version of the game, the final square holding the peace and healing I so desperately desired. For long periods of time, I would trudge slowly through the levels. Not making great progress, but progress nonetheless. Sometimes, I would be blessed with a ladder, a sudden jolt of insight or a pleasing outcome that would elevate my healing to new levels.
Inevitably, they seemed to appear just when I was feeling confident. Comfortable. As though they fed on optimism.
I would find myself disoriented within their slippery embraces. Only to realize that I was back to the beginning once I regained my senses. Peace once again a far off dream.
Chutes and Ladders is based on an ancient Indian game that was designed to teach Hindu children about karma. The final square symbolized nirvana, the ladders represented virtues and the snakes, the original version of the chutes, were vices. There were fewer ladders than snakes, showing that it is often more difficult to climb than it is to fall. At the end of the game, salvation was granted to the one who made it to the final square while the rest of the players faced rebirth at a lower rung.
Although intended to teach about choice and consequence, the game itself is based entirely upon chance. Fate.
Which makes it easy. But also frustrating.
Because in life, we always have choice.
In life, we can learn from our mistakes.
In life, we can accept where we are in the moment yet always strive to do better.
In life, we can slow the slide and even climb out of the chute.
In life, we can roll the dice but we can also build the ladder.
In life, we become better at climbing the more we do it.
In life, success comes not from watching others fall, but in helping to lift them up.
In life, nirvana is not only the end goal, but is a presence to be found along the journey.
In life, we cannot control every play of the game but we can learn to steer its outcome.
It’s so easy to feel helpless and powerless after divorce, subject to the whims of the dice that may send us back to square one on any given day.
It’s so easy to feel defeated. Tired of the climb when every ladder towards healing seems to be paired with a chute greased with pain.
It’s so easy to fixate on your small patch of real estate on the game board, that you fail to see the bigger picture.
The fact that you are making progress. Maybe not steady. And certainly not linear. But progress.
Forgiveness Mandala by Wayne Stratz (Photo credit: Nutmeg Designs)
Forgiveness. That word is often tossed about in hushed and almost reverent tones. It is the holy grail of one betrayed. Have you forgiven yet? We feel pushed to reach that nirvana, yet we are unsure how to navigate the labyrinthine path that leads us there. Nor are we even sure that we would recognize our destination once we have arrived. The trouble is that forgiveness will take on a different facade for every seeker and the path will vary depending upon who is stepping upon it. Even though forgiveness is an individual journey, there are some universal guideposts that can help you navigate your own way.
Understand What it is Not
Someone has wronged you. I get it. I’m not trying to take that away from you. Forgiveness is not a pardon. It is not excusing actions that are immoral or illegal. It is possible to accept the past, acknowledge the wrongs, but not be help prisoner by the actions of the object of your anger.
Blur
Forgiveness has always reminded me of one of those optical pictures where you have to relax your eyes and unfocus in order to see the image hidden in the pattern. If you look too hard and focus too much on absolution, it will remain hidden. Think of forgiveness like a shy kitten. If you lunge towards it and try to grab on, it will run away every time. Relax and soften and let it come to you.
Time
Forgiveness takes time. You can’t schedule it like an event upon a calendar (trust me, I tried). The time needed to forgive will differ for everyone. It doesn’t mean there is something wrong with you if it takes you longer than it did your friend. Be patient and allow it to unfold on its own schedule. I know, it is easier said than done, but that is the nature of this elusive beast.
Keep Living
Luckily, while you’re waiting for the forgiveness fairy, you can keep living. Don’t put your life on hold. Move forward and move on. Surround yourself with people that bring you joy. Play. Laugh. That ember that still burns inside does not weigh so much that you cannot move despite it. Live as though you have forgiven.
Gratitude
Gratitude and anger are mutually exclusive. Be mindful of what you have and (brace yourself, this is the hard part) what you gained from the person that you need to forgive. I know, your hackles went up. “That ^#%^&? How can I be grateful?? He/She did _______ to me!!” True. I’m not trying to take that away from you. You have a right to be angry. But you also have a right to see the good. Look for it.
Remove the Ego
We all find humor in the self-centered world of the 5 year old, yet we really haven’t evolved that much from kindergarten. When things happen around us, we have a tendency to believe that they happened to us. For example, your child comes home and immediately is defiant and argumentative. Your defences go up and you perceive your progeny’s behaviors as an attack. If you take a moment and breathe and remove yourself from the equation, you most likely realize that the instigation for the behavior is probably something that happened at school minutes or hours before. Spouses are no different. Perhaps you weren’t really a target after all, just collateral damage.
Humanize
We are familiar with the concept of putting someone on a pedestal when we idolize them. We essentially do the same when we demonize a person. It can be easy at those extremes to see a person as two-dimensional, flat. We conveniently remove those characteristics that do not fit our perception. The truth is that we are all human in our messy and sometimes contradictory three dimensionality. Allow yourself to see the human side of the object of your anger. Let your own humanness peek out as well.
Start With Yourself
It is amazing as you take the journey of forgiveness how much changes as your perspective moves. You may be surprised that the target, the object of your wrath has shifted to yourself. We don’t like to be angry at ourselves; it feels traitorous, so we often project it on another. Like with everything, you have to begin with yourself. Soften to your mistakes. We all make them. Be gentle with yourself yet firm in your intentions. Let it go. It’s okay.
How will you know when you have reached your destination? There is no placard that says, “You are here.” No one stands at the gate and hands you a medal. Perhaps forgiveness is best described as peace. I hope you can find your own nirvana. Please leave breadcrumbs for those who follow behind.
We just returned from our annual Thanksgiving camping trip.The car is unpacked, the boots are off, and the washing machine is steadily rinsing away any traces of campfire smoke. The trip may be over, but there are lessons and memories still to savor.
Apparently the picnic table is more comfortable than the cold, hard ground!
We looked for a gator but never found one even though the tracks were everywhere!
I was booking the reservations this year just as we faced our first real cold snap, thus I chose to find a campground near the Georgia-Alabama border not too far from Florida instead of our usual Smokey Mountain haunts. This was the first time I’ve ever been camping where the signs cautioned us to be aware of alligators rather than bears!
We stayed at Florence Marina State Park but our primary destination was Providence Canyon, a state park that is affectionately know as “The Little Grand Canyon.”
Providence Canyon
I had an interview with Sean Moffett on Wednesday afternoon, so we didn’t get into the campground until right before dusk.We had about 30 minutes to set up camp and get a fire going for dinner, all while my stomach was making it very clear that I missed lunch. Luckily, we’ve been camping together several times before so we pretty much have camp set-up down to a science.
Lesson 1: The more you do something, the easier it becomes.
The lake/river/reservoir (I swear, every sign called it something different!) at Florence Marina State Park
After dinner, we spent some time sitting in front of the fire. I could tell I was wound up. I was impatient and kind of snappy. I wrote recently about being overwhelmed, and I was letting that get to me again. It’s been a busy fall with trips and events (for example, we just flew back in from Baltimore late Monday night and I had to be ready for camping by Wednesday morning). On top of those logistical challenges, I’m also having to adjust to some of the (very cool and completely surreal) opportunities that have been coming my way since I published the book. As a result of all of this, I’ve had a more difficult time than usual managing anxiety the last couple months.
Lesson 2: Just removing yourself from the situation does not remove yourself from the mindset.
So, there I was, fed and warm sitting next to a campfire with my boys and I was still stressed and irritable. Brock and I talked through things and he came up with three action points to help going forward when I am in similar situations: 1) Learn to say “no,” 2) Learn to delegate, and 3) use a key word to let him know when I’m close to meltdown. I thought this last idea was genius as I’ve tried to communicate to him when I’m feeling close to the breaking point, but he often doesn’t comprehend the magnitude at the time.
Who needs turkey?
Eventually, we made our way to the tent and promptly fell asleep. At some point during the night, I awoke to the sound of footsteps on the fallen leaves just outside the tent. As I woke Brock, I recognized a familiar snuffling sound right by my head. I looked down to Tiger’s bed in the corner of the tent and realized it was empty. Our dog had pushed open the zippered door with his nose, exited the tent, and could not figure out how to return.
Lesson 3: You can prepare but you cannot control.
Brock and I have worked with Tiger extensively to the point where he is frequently off leash. This training meant that when he did get out, he stayed close and came right back.
That’s my vest on the left and Tiger’s on the right. Can you tell who has a bigger torso? 🙂
After breakfast the following morning, we headed just a few miles down the road to Providence Canyon. The canyon is not a natural formation, rather it was formed due to poor farming practices in the early to mid 19th century.
Lesson 4: Big things can have small beginnings.
The land originally consisted of gently rolling wooded hills. The early cotton farmers cleared the land of all existing vegetation and dug shallow furrows into the soil every planting season. Erosion took care of the rest. Now, almost 200 years later, the canyons are 150 feet deep and and growing wider by 3-5 feet each year.
I wonder what the farmers would make of this?!?
It’s wild to realize that the road leading to the park as well as the park buildings will be swallowed up by the canyon within my lifetime.
Lesson 5: Always be ready to adjust.
The continually retreating fence line.
We made our way down into the canyon floor. Up close, it was apparent that the canyon walls are more sand dune than stone.
Lesson 6: Impressive exteriors can conceal weak interiors.
There are signs everywhere warning hikers not to climb the canyon walls. I only slightly broke the rules:)
I even made it back down the hill!
Once the scale of the erosion became clear, people tried to slow the effects.
Kudzu was planted in the mid 20th century to try to anchor the soil.
Lesson 7: There is a tipping point where momentum becomes inevitability.
A more recent attempt to slow the collapse of the canyon walls. You can see that erosion is winning the battle.
Although the walls of the canyons are washing away, the depth remains fairly constant because it consists of a denser and harder stone than the chalk-like walls.
Lesson 8: Sometimes the surface needs to be washed away to reveal what is underneath.
Providence Canyon is in many ways a man-made geological catastrophe. However, rather than simply hide it away, the state has chosen to turn it into a park that celebrates its beauty and also educates the public about its root causes.
Lesson 9: Don’t be afraid to celebrate the beauty that comes from devastation while learning how to avoid it in the future.
It’s impossible to deny the beauty.
We came across an old homestead identified by the following sign.
Lesson 10: We are more adaptable than we realize.
We saw many interesting landmarks along the trail.
It’s difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points.
Lesson 11: We can grow together yet still be distinct and independent.
Unfortunately, we had to cut our trip short and forgo our planned second day of hiking since Tiger injured his foot.
Morning playtime with the boys
Lesson 12: It’s okay to play even if you’re hurt.
Providence has its appointed hour for everything. We cannot command results, we can only strive.
Mahatma Gandhi
I am going to strive for continued peace and serenity through the weekend:)
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 