A(void)

Posted on by stilllearning2b

He had lost himself.  Somewhere along the way, he no longer knew who he was.  Did the depression come first, leading him astray?  Or did the depression tag along, following the self out the door?  Regardless  of the order, he was left a shell.  Rather than face the void and explore its dark depths, he chose to avoid by creating a facade of a man.  It must have been exhausting, balancing on that edge, trying not to fall while maintaining the illusion that he was nowhere near the cliff.  He was a master at that delicate act for years.  Even when he left, he thought he could continue to pull a Copperfield on those around him, using mirrors of  deception  to hide the enormous truth.  The fall was  inevitable.  For a brief period after his arrest, he seemed to see the precipice, the darkness surrounding him just beyond the lights he used to distract and blind.  Yet still, he was unable to face the pain, and he chose to continue being a master of illusion. By denying the void, he allowed it to grow.

avoid

I also avoided the truth in those years, not consciously, but on some deep level. I didn’t give any credence to the physical symptoms of anxiety that coursed through my body in the final few months; I wrote them off as work stress combined with my Type A personality. It’s hard accepting that I didn’t see the truth. I feel bad for me, but even more so, I feel like I failed him. One of the few regrets I have is that I didn’t know that he needed help before it was too late.

I expected to face my own void when he left.  I loved  that man, adored  him.  He had been the driving force in my existence for half my life.  How could I lose him and not face a gaping wound?  The initial loss was too raw, too overwhelming to feel any sense of  loss.  As I settled in to my new state of being, I surprisingly realized I didn’t feel as much emptiness as I expected.  It was more like the void left after a tooth has been pulled: slightly sore with the occasional shocky bit, but mainly just strange and alien.  Like one does with the tongue after losing a tooth, I explored the hole, drawn to its strangeness.  At first, it consumed all my waking thoughts, but as time elapsed, it grew less prominent.  I became accustomed to his absence faster than I ever anticipated, consciously filling that void with friends, activities, anything I could get my hands on.  I survived not by teetering on the edge, but by filling in the hole.  I am still aware of the place where he was, but accept that he was the tooth that needed to pulled for healing to occur.

I hope that he is not still trying to walk along that cliff or survive the darkness beyond.  I wish that he, too, can find a way to heal the void.

 

When Is a Phone More Than a Phone?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and I am leaving the state.

That is the text I received on the above phone in July of 2009.   Until today, it has remained my phone.  Every time I’ve used  it, the feeling of its curved case in my hands is a visceral reminder of the several days I spent grasping its cold body after receiving the text.  That phone, the deliverer of the death sentence of my marriage, was the only possible connection I had to my former life.  It was my executioner and my security blanket in one. It has overstayed its welcome in my life.  As of today, it is retired from its duties.

I was nervous about the process of opening a new account; I still never know what will come up from my past.  It was comforting to have a gentle salesperson who had also dealt with an ex’s financial betrayal.  The look on her face told me she didn’t judge me and she understood.

My new phone is so much more than a phone.  It already contains an image of my current beau and I after we completed a tough race (Tough Mudder, to be exact).  It symbolizes freedom and connection with new technology (you can see that my old phone wasn’t exactly cutting edge!).  It will allow me to more effciently pursue some of my projects and dreams.  Most importantly, at least to me, is the fact that it stores no memories, its shape is virgin to my hand.

Today I have severed an important connection to my past.  The phone that signaled the end of one life has been replaced by one that symbolizes the start of a new.

Anger Deflation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My biggest stumbling block was (and at times, continues to be) anger.  I could not get past the deliberate nature of what he had done.  Holding me, telling me how much he loved me and would miss me while his bride’s ring sat in his car, ready to be placed on her finger within the week.  The years of lies and manipulations that covered the hemorrhaging accounts.  And, worst of all, he went on the attack with the divorce, blaming me for everything.  How could I not be angry? Livid?

I spent much of the last two and half years wrestling with the “how.”  How could he do this?  How could he seek to destroy the one he claimed to love (and seemed to show love to up until the last text)?  How could he kiss me, be intimate with me, knowing that he was orchestrating this symphony of destruction?  Try as I might, I just couldn’t make those actions, those lies,  match the man I knew.

So, I thought of him as a boy.

I thought about what would cause a child to lie.  Children generally lie out of fear.  They want to please, and when they now they have disappointed, they seek to hide their actions by spinning tales.  Looking over the last few years of my marriage, I saw a path (relating to a failed business attempt) that could have led him down the path of telling lies to hide his shortcomings, to protect me from the truth.  As with a child, if these lies are not caught, they eventually become habit.

I thought about what would cause a child to lash out against loved ones.  Children often lash out when they feel trapped and threatened.  When  he lashed out, he had been caught.  The carefully crafted facade that he wanted the world to see had been stripped away, his deceptions, his failures bared for the world to see.  He saw me as threatening his core, his very self, so he lashed out in a desperate  attempt to shield.

I may be wrong in these motivations. Perhaps he is simply a sociopath,  immune to other’s  pain.  Maybe he is evil, enjoying the suffering of others.  But that doesn’t fit the man I knew, and so it does not bring me peace.  However, by looking at his actions as I would a child’s, I have found that I see him as scared, unsure, and lost.  That helps  to deflate some of the anger, releasing the pressure and allowing me to move forward.

I Can’t, I Won’t, I Don’t and I’ll Never

Posted on by stilllearning2b

  I really did have a great marriage.  In retrospect, though, I’ve realized that he never really challenged me.  I am not saying that as a dig against him, or claiming that the responsibility was his, it is just how it was.  I could easily say “I can’t, I won’t, I don’t or I’ll never” and he never questioned it.  It was comfortable.  I developed a rather static view of myself, content to be what I was in many areas.  I did push myself, but only in areas where I was comfortable pushing (which are never the areas that need improvement, are they?).  Even though this was a lesson I didn’t want to learn, I  learned the value in pushing oneself in the areas that cause discomfort.  It just might surprise you (as it did me) how many of those, “I wont’s” become “I can’t wait to’s.”

Here are some  of the items that were on my “can’t” list that are now on my “bring it on” list:

-riding a motorcycle (sorry, mom!)

-running a race (warning – these are addictive)

-eating spicy foods (I now have to restock chili powder and Tabasco every couple weeks)

-enjoying sports (don’t mention last week’s playoffs…)

-learning to play chess (I’m still pretty crummy, but it’s progress)

-kissing another man (strange at first, but not too hard to get used to)

-cooking (see “I’m Not Martha Stewart…”

-having a dog again (you’ll hear more about this one later)

-trusting again

-loving again

It is not the responsibility of those in our life to push and challenge us; it is something we must take on ourselves.  As a teacher, I am fully aware that growth occurs when I keep the students slightly uncomfortable, just a little beyond where they want to go.  Likewise, we can grow when we take ourselves beyond what we think we can do.  What can you transfer from your “I can’t, I won’t, I don’t, and I’ll never” list?  How can you challenge yourself?

Softness Isn’t Just for Selling Tissues

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I was a toddler, I used to try to walk through the sliding glass door.  Repeatedly.  The coffee table was simply an apparition that should bend to my will and allow me passage.  Even the bulk of the couch was no match for my will; I assumed that it too could be bested if I tried long enough and hard enough.

As I approached adulthood and learned about the states of matter,I realized that my chances of walking through solids were pretty slim.  However, this did little to temper my will and stubbornness.  These traits saw me through many challenges in my life; I succeeded because I refused to give up.  I worked to make myself stronger, both physically and emotionally to see me through the challenges that life had to offer.  I had perseverance and reliance in droves.

It wasn’t enough. At least not for the long run.

My strength got me through the early days and months of my divorce.  I looked to my fortitude to help me push through what seemed like insurmountable obstacles.

Then, one day, I realized the external obstacles were gone.  All that was left were my interior barriers, and try as I might, I couldn’t simply lower my head and barrel through them.  This was not a  time for strength.

I found  wisdom in the teachings of yoga and meditation, areas that I had been exploring, sensing that they could counter my natural strengths and bring me more into balance.  In yoga, you are taught to find your edge, accept your edge, explore your edge (not to pretend it is not there and continue forward nonetheless, as  I was wont to do).  Pain is not something to  be denied, rather it should be acknowledged and  investigated.  I learned to recognize my edge and slowly, softly shift it.  I became more comfortable just being with the pain, softening my attitude towards it.  The process of healing from the trauma made me softer, and that in turn made me stronger and more whole.

Strength found its balance in softness.  The two together are so much more powerful than each alone.  Try as I might, I still can’t walk through furniture, though.