This one mental shift helped me let go of some of the anger I was holding towards my ex-husband.
Initially, I viewed both of us as characters in some twisted romance turned psychological drama. He, of course, was the antagonist, performing all sorts of unspeakable acts towards me. I was fearful of turning each page, afraid of what horrors would await me. I felt powerless, victimized.
Then I realized, although I may not have the power to write my story, I can shift into the position of the narrator, while still remaining in the story. As the narrator, I have the ability to interpret his actions, guide the story, and shift the focus. I could not control the actions of the antagonist, but I could surely control how I wove them into the story. This guise also allows me to step back from the action, gaining perspective and a broader view.
He will always be a character in my story, but as my own narrator, I choose to make him a minor one.
I was lucky. I never spent time in a decaying marriage. The lies that destroyed the relationship protected me for its duration, keeping me cloaked in relative comfort.
I was lucky. I never had to wrestle with the question of should I stay or should I leave? That decision was made for me.
I was lucky. I never had the pain of hoping for or trying for reconciliation. You cannot reconcile with someone who has become a ghost in his own life.
I was lucky. We did not have children. I did not have to see the pain on their faces, nor engage in a battle for them through the courts.
I was lucky. I had a clean, sudden amputation of my life, my marriage. The trauma was near-fatal, but I was left with a clean cut.
I know not all of you are so lucky. You may be deciding if your marriage can be saved. You may be hoping that it can still work out, alternating between hope and despair. You may be subject to painful contact with your ex. You may have to tuck your kids in, wishing you could take their pain away.
Even if your marriage did not end in a sterile amputation, you still have some control over how it heals. Take care to keep the wound clean and expose it to fresh air. Tight bandages may hide the damage for a time, but the wound will only fester when it is kept in the dark. Do not worry at the healing skin. Leave the scabs until they fall off of their own accord; they provide needed protection. Be gentle with the new skin, the new growth, for it is still fragile with its pink-tinged hope. Sooth the wound with the balm of your friends and family, your pets, your passions. And know that the scars only serve to make you even more beautiful.
Before recently signing up for a marathon, I consulted a friend of mine who is extremely erudite in the biochemistry of nutrition and supplementation. I eat a very healthy diet: vegetarian leaning towards vegan, gluten free, and containing very few processed foods. My shopping cart looks more like a garden than something from the grocery store. This diet, along with frequent and intense exercise, offers some protection against many of the common western maladies: high cholesterol, hypertension, high blood sugar, etc. Yet, my way of eating also predisposes me to some deficiencies, notably iodine and iron, which will need to be remedied as I begin to ramp up my training.
Herbal supplements (Photo credit: Ano Lobb. Follow on Twitter: @healthyrx)
As I researched and purchased supplements yesterday, my mind made connections. Why is it that most of us easily accept that our diet can benefit from supplements, yet we ask that our primary relationship fulfill all of our needs?
Stay with me here, I’m not about to pull a Gingrich with the suggestion of an open marriage.
The Hollywood ideal that we have all grown up with is that you have a single soulmate, one who is bonded to you in every way and anticipates and meets all of your needs. Is this even possible? Like with designing a diet, it is important that your primary relationship addresses your need for macronutrients: respect, love, security, and whatever else is on your “needed for emotional survival” list. However, we are more complex than that, each of us has a need for micronutrients as well, and our primary partner may not have all of these available. That doesn’t mean that we need to endure those deficiencies or throw out the partner. It means we need to supplement.
Sometimes, the need for nutritional supplementation is obvious; if you lack vitamin C, scurvy rings the alarm bells before long. However, some deficiencies are more subtle, exacting changes that can easily fly under the radar, such as a general feeling of fatigue or weakness. Emotional malnutrition is the same; some gaps are apparent, yet others may not be so forthcoming and leave you functioning, yet not optimized.
Like with nutritional deficiencies, the first goal is to identify what your needs are; unfortunately, a blood test for emotional needs has yet to be developed.
Once you have identified your deficiencies, the next step is determining how to address them. Perhaps you find a friend that can fill the gap or engage in an activity that fills the need. I make sure that I always have people in my life that are “gentle souls,” providing me with that energy balance that helps me feel complete. Some of these people have no idea of their role, as I may not even know them very well; however, even a brief encounter leaves me refreshed. Relationship supplements do not need to be people; I also use yoga to help fill my requirement for gentleness as well. Be creative and don’t be afraid to look beyond the obvious. Oh, and I already checked, GNC does not sell this one in a bottle.
Finally, be aware that your supplementation needs may change over time. If you enter a new relationship, you may find that different needs are met and new gaps are revealed. Even if the relationship is constant, you may not be, thus opening up the need for different or new supplements. Perform a frequent check-up on yourself to make sure you are not slipping into mental malnutrition.
A diet that does not contain the basic required macronutrients will not sustain healthy life. Likewise, a primary relationship that does not meet the basic needs of both partners will not survive. For those micro-needs; however, don’t be afraid to supplement, as the proper balance of nutrients can take you from surviving to thriving.
In the early months of the divorce, I was obsessed with labels. I needed to be able to classify everything, to make sense of the nonsensical. It reminded me of a time when I was a kid. My parents bought this little label maker that would print out stickers of what you typed. I spent a day labeling everything in sight before the cost of the sticky paper brought my challenge to an end.
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Most of my labeling energies went towards my ex. Was he a narcissist, indifferent to those around him, viewing me as merely an object. Was he an addict, as we found out after he left that he had been hiding alcohol consumption. Perhaps he could be a sociopath, devoid of any sense of right or wrong. Maybe he was depressive, and unable to make clear decisions. Of course, he could just be a jerk. Each of these labels had evidence to support their application, but there was also evidence against it. I went round and round, sure that if I just knew what to call it, I would find understanding.
I fought against the labels that may have been applied to me by my psychiatrist. Each visit, biweekly at first, she would ask me if I was suicidal. I bristled at the thought that she contemplated applying that label to me. Each visit, I denied it vehemently, hoping that my insistence would keep that word from my file.
Even the divorce itself had labels. I was the one to file, as he just planned to run away. Originally, I was going to do a divorce by publication, as we did not know where he was. That progressed to a no-fault divorce once I found him, but before we knew of the bigamy. The bigamy changed the label again to a fault divorce.
None of these labels mattered. My ex is who he is, regardless of what I call him. My psychiatrist supported me with the medication I needed no matter the words she wrote on my file. And divorce is horrendous, despite the category it falls under. Just like those sticky labels I applied as a kid, labels can be applied, removed, and reapplied without changing the object beneath. Apart from a little residue, that is.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 