Thoughts From a World Turned Upside Down
10 Things I Don’t Trust After Being Cheated On … And 10 Things I Trust More
10 Things I Don’t Trust After Being Cheated On
1 – I don’t trust people that are overly affectionate or complimentary; I assume there is a motive to their flattery.
2 – I don’t trust it when people are too eager to proclaim that they would “never hurt me” and that they “are not the type of person” to do that. I especially don’t trust it when they use the words, “Trust me.”
3 – I don’t trust that permitted and known access to a person’s technology, friends, etc. means that there is nothing to hide.
4 – I don’t trust people that demonstrate a lack of courage (note: that is profoundly different than a lack of fear.) They hide rather than face.
5- I don’t trust in the security of “affair-proof;” no relationship is immune under the right conditions.
6 – I don’t trust stories when too many details are provided without prompting.
7 – I don’t trust things that seem too good to be true.
8 – I don’t trust it when people say they’re okay.
9 – I don’t trust words that are not consistently supported by actions.
10 – I don’t trust people who won’t admit to mistakes; they too-easily rely on lies to hide their failures.
10 Things I Trust MORE After Being Cheated On
1 – I trust my gut. So far, it hasn’t lied.
2 – I trust that there are good people in the world. People that value honesty and loyalty.
3 – I trust in people that admit their shame. Those grow in the dark and whither once exposed.
4 – I trust in my strength to handle more than I thought I was capable of.
5 – I trust in the power of starting over.
6 – I trust those that reveal their fears and then refuse to be limited by them.
7 – I trust that I am not reliant upon anyone else to make me happy.
8 – I trust in the potency of gratitude to shift the way I look at things.
9 – I trust in my worth and that it is by no means defined by how others have chosen to treat me.
10 – I trust myself enough to be open to the potential of being hurt again.
Post Traumatic Growth
One of my husband’s “ah-ha” moments came in his early adulthood when he caught a snippet of an Oprah show. The guests that day were two brothers who had endured horrific abuse during their childhoods. One became the epitome of success, applying discipline and intentional effort to all areas of his life, which resulted in a fulfilling career and marriage. The other turned to drugs and crime to fuel his addictions. By all measures, his life was tragic and wasted.
Oprah asked each brother in turn, “Why did you make the decisions that you did?”
Both brothers answered the same, “I had no choice.”
But that’s not really true, is it? They had no choice, no agency, when it came to the abuse they suffered. The damage caused was real and significant for both of the men. Yet as they left childhood and began to make their own lives, they did have a choice –
They could allow what happened to become a limitation, using the damage as an excuse to whither and self-destruct.
Or, they could choose to view the traumatic childhood as a trial, a training ground to learn how to avoid falling into those same unhealthy patterns and instead, grow from the experience.
I highly doubt that even the successful brother looks back upon his childhood with fondness. I suspect that even while he attributes some of his fortitude and wisdom to the abuse he suffered, he still would not excuse the actions of his parents or wish the same on others. However, he probably understands that good things can come from bad situations and that, while he was helpless as a child, he is not helpless now.
I think sometimes we conflate growing from trauma with excusing the trauma. As though by finding positive change we are discounting the impact of whatever happened to us. It can be challenging to hold both things true at once – it was horrible and yet it also provides opportunity for growth – yet that is so often the case. Using trauma as a springboard for positive change doesn’t mean the actions that hurt you are okay; it means that you are determined to be okay despite the actions.
Nobody would ever choose trauma as a mechanism for growth. We all would prefer to learn to swim under the patient and kind tutelage of a coach, yet sometimes the tsunami forces us to learn before we are ready. We can allow ourselves to go under, cursing the relentless wave, or we can use it an opportunity to learn how to paddle like hell in order to keep our heads above water.
You DO have a choice.
You cannot change what happened.
But you can change how you view it.
Is it going to drown you or train you?
7 Signs That You’re Healing From Divorce or Infidelity
It can be surprisingly difficult to determine when you’re beginning to heal from relationship trauma. There’s no finish line to mark the end of a journey, no certificate to announce that you’ve completed the graduation requirements and no neat summary to tie up all the loose ends before you close the book on that chapter of your life.
So how can you tell that you’re moving on from divorce or infidelity?
1 – Your Reactivity Decreases
After even a casual mention of my ex, I could feel my scalp begin to burn as my blood pressure climbed to address the perceived threat. If a movie or book touched on the topic of cheating, I became a passionate objector, unable to separate the character’s actions from my own experience. Online, if anybody posed a challenging question to me about my former relationship or my recovery, I had to engage until I felt understood (spoiler alert – no amount of engagement can guarantee this response).
Now? It’s completely different. I can discuss even the most painful aspects of my first marriage and its demise without raising any alarm bells on a heart rate monitor. I can view other’s actions that paralleled my ex’s with curiosity and a calm disapproval. And I am able to distance myself from the responses of others, able to see their origin more clearly.
Consider the healing process from a physical wound. At first, the site is incredibly tender, prompting a flinch from even the slightest touch. You become hyperaware of the need to protect it and often overreact if somebody gets too close. As it heals and the skin knits over the exposed and tender nerves, you no longer react the same way. In fact, you get to point where you no longer notice someone inadvertently brushing up against the previously damaged skin.
Emotional recovery follows a similar path. At first, you’re in a heightened state. And from that stance, everything has to be evaluated as a legitimate threat. Over time and with enough benign experiences, you become more adept at sifting out the real threats from the ones that simply appear dangerous.
2 – You Are Able to Appreciate Nuance Without Feeling Threatened
He was bad and I was good.
He was deceptive and I was honest.
He was the perpetrator and I was the victim.
It all seemed so clear, so black and white. And I outright rejected any thoughts or outside suggestions that didn’t fit cleanly into this worldview. This mindset was born of self-protection, as I secretly ran tapes through my mind with both his words tearing me apart and my own thoughts turning against me. I needed to paint myself as the “good” one in a desperate attempt to repair the gaping hole left from the rejection.
In time, I noticed that I was starting to see shades of gray. Yes, his actions were still despicable and inexcusable, yet I began to consider what might have prompted that response. Yes, I never lied to him in the marriage, but I was starting to realize that I had lied to myself. And as these realizations began to arise, I started to understand that the nuance, instead of being a threat to my self-image, actually was a place that brought peace as it felt like truth.
It takes courage to embrace the nuance of life. We find comfort in applying clearly defined labels because then we know where we stand. Yet there is often an underlying discomfort with this simplistic view because at its core, we know that it is false. In contrast, the gray area, although uncomfortable at times, feels like living with your eyes open and your confidence in your self intact.
3 – Your Obsessions and Compulsions Fade
I replayed the moment I read the text that ended my marriage over and over again as though I could change the outcome. At my home-for-the-year, I refreshed my computer screen hundreds of time an hour looking for that email or update on his other wife’s blog that would provide the answers I was so desperately searching for. My runs became a compulsion, the miles adding up even as my body began to protest the rapid scale-up in training. Even once I started dating, there was an obsessive energy to it as I responded rapid-fire to most every message.
The period after divorce or infidelity is often like the rapids that form when two bodies of water crash into each other. Only in this case, it’s the anxiety of unwanted change colliding with the overwhelming need to do something. And as you move further away from the trauma, the intensity of these feelings begin to fade and you no longer feel driven to think or act along those lines.
4 – Your Sleep Improves
I sat up abruptly, afraid that I was going to vomit. I wasn’t sick. Instead, it was another dream about my ex. I felt violated. Hadn’t he hurt me enough? Why did he have to steal my sleep too?
In the beginning, sleep is often elusive as the mind refuses to relax. Even once you manage to go down, your mind is often invaded with unwanted dreams and nightmares. The nights become an adversary, something you have to steal yourself to meet every single day.
And then one morning, you finally feel rested. Eventually, you’re able to string multiple mornings together where you realize your sleep was uninterrupted my the memories of the trauma.
5 – You Have Increased and More Sustained Energy
In some ways, healing from relationship trauma reminded me of the time I had mono. My body felt heavy, leaden. I had to deliberately summon effort and motivation for every movement, every decision. I was exhausted. It turns out that rebuilding a heart and a life at the same time is hard work.
As you begin to heal, more and more energy reserves become available for other endeavors. I like to equate it to the body’s response to extreme cold. It pulls the blood away from the extremities and towards the critical organs. A sure sign of warming up is pink fingers as the blood is released again to its normal pathways. Likewise, a return of energy is a sign that the critical healing phase has passed and that it is now safe to allow that energy to flow elsewhere.
6 – You Are Able to Broaden Your Focus
For a time, my identity was the abandoned one. That single event became the lynchpin of my very existence. It was both the most important thing about me and also the thing that I was most powerless against.
And then over time, I added new facets to my identity. I finished a race and began to call myself a runner. I published a book and added the moniker “writer.” As I continued to live in the face of betrayal and abandonment, I realized I was a survivor. As I began to look around, I realized that there was a whole world out there separate from what I had endured.
At first, your focus has to be narrow. You need to have blinders on in order to simply survive. And then slowly, the rest of the world – and its possibilities – begins to come into focus. Until one day you realize that you are not what happened to you.
7 – You Have Hope For the Future
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get past this,” I said in the beginning, unable to see beyond the enormity of the pain.
“I want to get through this,” I pleaded, words not yet backed by action.
“I will move on,” false determination sounding more confident than I felt.
“I am going to be okay,” I eventually whispered to myself, realizing that I believed it to be true.
The return of hope is a beautiful thing. A sunrise after a long winter storm that promises that spring lies just ahead.
After Divorce: It DOES Get Better
Just the other day, somebody contacted me who is in the early months of an unwanted divorce.
After responding to the specifics of their situation, I ended with, “It DOES get better.”
They responded, “Everybody keeps telling me that.”
This is one of those phrases that can seem like a pat response in the moment, akin to “Everything happens for a reason” or “You aren’t given more than you can handle.” It can feel like a hollow promise, words that skip like rocks on a pond right over the depths of the pain you feel today only to sink deep into your gut.
I can’t speak for the others that offer up this hope. But I can explain where I come from. When I hear about somebody’s suffering after divorce, betrayal or abandonment, I travel back to my own experience with it. I don’t simply read or listen to the words, I feel them. I embody that place again. And that space, that pitch-black room, that was once so familiar, now lives so far away from my day-to-day experience.
Because with time, effort, and patience. it DID get better.
It’s important to understand (and accept) that getting better doesn’t mean it’s like it never happened. Instead, it’s more like the pearl formed around a grain of sand. The irritant remains, but you learn how to live around it. Getting better is a combination of many factors, some within your control and others that simply are.
Here are some of the factors that contribute to it getting better –
The Rawness Fades
Think back to a time when you abruptly lost a tooth in childhood. At first, the newly exposed nerves were raw and shocky. The gap that once housed a tooth felt alien and your tongue kept worrying over the wound. Yet by the next day, the gums had begun to heal and the nerves were no longer so sensitive. Before long, the hole simply became part of the normal topography of your mouth.
It’s much the same with betrayal or unwanted divorce. At first, you’re raw. Exposed. Shocky. But that state doesn’t last. The wound is still there, but the pain is no longer quite so sharp and unsettling.
You Adapt to the New Reality
On a cold, blustery day, the last thing you want to do is leave the known warmth of the house to head out into the frigid air for a walk. And sure enough, those first few blocks are brutal as the wind steals your breath and you feel the warmth being pulled from your bones. But stay with it and the air no longer feels quite so cold as your body begins to acclimate to its new surroundings.
It’s amazing how much pain and discomfort is caused by change. We fight against it and desperately grip onto what was. Yet once we settle in and take a deep breath, we begin to adapt to the new reality. As with the winter’s day, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s hospitable (at least not yet), but at least it’s a known entity.
After Divorce: Is This Your New Normal?
Time Softens and Blurs
When a sharp and pointed stone first finds its way into a stream, it maintains its jagged and cutting edges. Over time, the relentless passing of the water begins to smooth the surface, softening the edges.
Time does not erase, but it does blur. Those memories that right now play against your mind as clearly as a movie on the big screen will eventually be like the flickering image of an old Star Wars hologram. More importantly, time allows for opportunity to process what has happened and to layer new memories on top of the old.
You Fill in the Voids
From Displacement:
I was enjoying a bath the other day. The hot water filling the tub to the brim, my body submerged except for my hands holding a book and my face peeking out from the suds. I was relaxed. Content.
I heard Tiger begin to dance on the wood floors below as the garage door rumbled open.
That was soon followed by Brock’s voice, “Where’s mama?” he asked Tiger as both man and dog bounded up the steps.
“That looks good,” he said, slipping off his clothes and sliding behind me in the tub. For the next few minutes, we talked about our days with the sound of the water draining through the overflow in the background. Eventually, the sound of the escaping water stopped as equilibrium was reached once again. The volume of the water replaced with an equal volume of Brock.
We stayed that way for some time, enjoying the company and the warm water.
He exited the tub before me, stepping out while simultaneously grabbing a towel.
The change in the bath was shocking. The water that had once covered my entire body now didn’t even make it around my hips. The once-full bath had been reduced to a few inches of tepid water.
In the beginning, your life is like that empty tub, cold and barren. What is lost is painfully apparent because it leaves a void behind. But then you make a new friend. Take on a new project at work. Help your child tackle a new challenge or take one on yourself. And slowly, those voids are filled in.
Five Healthy Ways to Fill the Void After Divorce (and What to Look Out For)
Other Things Happen
Two years ago, we suffered the sudden and traumatic loss of our beloved dog, Tiger. And yesterday, we celebrated the one-year anniversary of Emma’s “gotcha day.” Even as we still mourn the loss of Tiger, we love and enjoy the two pups that now share our lives.
Because that’s how life works – no matter how great the losses, it goes on. And as it does, those losses become part of the mosaic.
You Weave a Narrative Around the Situation
Early humans watched the sun and moon march across the sky. As they had no way to gather any factual understanding of what was happening, they created a story, believing that the daily lives of the gods were involved in this routine.
As humans, we crave understanding and feel a sense of discomfort and unease when we don’t see how something fits in to our larger worldview. We worry at it, obsess over it. At first, betrayal or unwanted divorce is a huge foreign object that plummeted from the sky, crushing your white picket fence. It makes no sense. Until you do the internal work of crafting a narrative and creating some sense. Once that happens, it no longer requires our attention and so we can begin to relax.
Some Memories Are Filed Away
I have a box in my attic that is filled with all the legal and emotional detritus from my first marriage. I feel like I have to keep it “just in case,” but I don’t need need it front and center. Instead, it’s sealed and tucked away in a safe place.
At first, your memories feel out of your control, slamming you at random moments and flooding your system with emotion. At some point, you may find that there are some memories that are simply too painful (and pointless) to keep handy. And so you tuck them away.
All of the “Firsts” Are Experienced
Watch any family with a new baby and you will appreciate the power of “firsts.” The first step. The first tooth. The first word. Do you when the second word was spoken? How about the tenth? Or the hundredth?
After divorce, you will several years of “firsts.” The first night alone. The first anniversary of your wedding day. The first holiday without your spouse. The first major purchase without your former partner. The first family event. And those firsts are powerful. The seconds or thirds? Not so much.
You Return to Your Happiness Set Point
Take a cup of water. Put it in the microwave for three minutes. The water responds with an increase in energy, coming to a boil. Leave the cup on the counter for a minute and soon the water will return to its standard state.
We are no different when it comes to our emotional states. Research has shown that we all have a happiness set point. And that major life events (either positive or negative) certainly disrupt our happiness for a time, but that we eventually settle back into our standard state.
The Emotional Response Lessens
Several years ago, my car fishtailed on the interstate after encountering a patch of black ice. By the time I made it home, I was a trembling and sobbing mess. For months, every time I drove that patch of road, I would feel an echo of that earlier panic deep in my chest. I practiced saying, “You’re okay. You’re safe.” with each new passing. Finally, with enough repetitions, my brain decided to believe me.
Our brains are malleable. We can learn to uncouple the emotional response from the memory. You can get to a point where you simply just don’t care as much. You remember, but you no longer have the physical response to those thoughts.
Memories Do Not Have to Equal Suffering
Gratitude is Uncovered
Have you ever fallen ill and been secretly thankful for the bug that forced you to slow down and take a few days to rest?
If you look hard enough and with an open mind, you can find something to be grateful for in every situation. It does’t sugarcoat the pain, but it helps to remind you that life is more than pain if we’re willing to see it.
Purpose is Created
This is the ultimate. If you can find this, a way to see your rock bottom as a foundation, life will be better. You cannot alter the past, but you CAN decide what you’re going to do with it. You can choose to see it as an impenetrable obstacle.
Or you can view it as opportunity.
From The Evolution of Suffering:
In the beginning, I embodied the pain.
It was thick, viscous. Its foulness touching every part of my being until I no longer knew where I ended and the suffering began. I could no more escape its malevolent embrace than I could pull peanut butter from a child’s hair. We were one, the suffering and I. My anguish kept it fed and in return, it kept me company. I may not have had my marriage but I had the suffering that was left behind.
But slowly, ever so slowly, the anguish started to fade. The loss grew more distant and hope grew ever closer. Starved of its preferred sustenance, the suffering started to wither. Its suffocating heft grew to more manageable dimensions and its once viscous nature grew thinner. Weaker.
I felt the pain.
I would have moments, even days, where the suffering was unseen. But its absence was always short-lived and my brain had a trigger-finger that would herald its return at the slightest provocation. My body held the memories like the discs in a juke-box, ready to play with the touch of a button. As long as I didn’t approach, I was okay. But as soon as I recounted the tale, my voice would tremble and the pain would come rushing back as though it had been lying in wait.
And so I kept telling the story. And with each retelling, the heartache faded a little more. And the suffering grew weaker. My once constant companion became like a distant friend – we may keep in touch on Facebook, but we have no real need for face to face.
I remembered the pain.
And yet I kept living. I would revisit earlier writings or conversations and marvel at the emotions I carried. I would reflect back on those endless nights and my emaciated and shaking frame. I could speak of the suffering, but only in the past tense, for it no longer touched my soul.
Unencumbered, I learned how to trust again. How to love again. How to be vulnerable again. I learned to tell the story without emotion. Because it didn’t happen to the Lisa of today. It happened to the Lisa of yesterday. And I no longer recognize her.
I appreciated the pain.
Not for the suffering it provided, but for the lessons hidden within. It is a path I would have never chosen, yet it has led to more glorious pastures than I could have ever envisioned.
If you carry it too long, suffering will weigh you down and seek to asphyxiate you with its heft. But carry it long enough, and that weight makes you stronger. Lighter. Better for the experience.
Everything changes.
Even suffering.
It DOES get better. Stay with it.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 