The Stages of An Ending

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Ever since Elisabeth Kubler-Ross developed the 5 stages of grief to describe the emotions that terminal patients experience, similar stages have been used to describe loss in all its forms. These descriptions are helpful; they help to confirm that our wildly fluctuating emotions are normal and okay while also providing hope that we can progress out of a current stage.

This article from Psychology Today  is one of the better descriptions of the stages after the end of a relationship that I have read. However, I experienced a couple stages that are not described.

How about you – what stages would you add?

Are Expectations Dooming Marriage?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Expectations.

We build them up.

We revel in them.

And then, all too often, reality dashes them.

We hold them – the expectations and the actual – side by side and look for flaws, not unlike the drawings in the Hallmark magazines of our youth.

And we curse reality, bemoan our bad luck or grow angry at those who contributed to the failure of the imagined.

But maybe we’re directing our outrage the wrong direction.

Maybe it’s not reality that needs to change, but our expectations of it.

 

And now, more than ever before in history, we have very high expectations of marriage. Men and women no longer operate in defined domestic spheres, opening up vast swaths of terrain open to negotiation and yes, expectation. We are serenaded with romantic stories with all of the rough edges Photoshopped into perfection and we grow to expect our marriages to play out in kind. We expect our men to be emotional and our women to be equal wage earners, yet we don’t yet know how to negotiate the changes that ensue. We have lofty personal goals at the time of marriage and expect the marriage will support those goals. We marry young and carry the expectation that the chosen spouse will still be a match 50 or 60 or even 70 years down the line.

Expectations are not inherently damaging; they act as guides and as goals, especially when they reflect areas where you have control. Expectations become dangerous when they grow too strong and too broad, making assumptions about the behavior of others or of the stars.

The following are some of the potentially destructive expectations of marriage along with ways to shift those predictions into the realm of healthy and realistic:

 

He/she is my soulmate and will anticipate and meet all of my needs.

It used to be the expected norm that men and women would have many of their social needs met through same-gender friends. In our busy and transient lives, adult time with friends often gets shifted aside with the result of the spouse bearing the brunt of the social needs. It’s unfair and unrealistic to expect one person to meet (let alone anticipate) all of your needs. While most partners agree certain needs should only be met within marriage, there are many others that can be found through friends, classes or groups. If your spouse shares ALL of your interests, you are married to a mirror, not a person.

He/she will change after marriage (or the birth of a baby, or after the completion of school, etc.).

This is a dangerous expectation because it bases present decisions on imagined future results that are not under your control. Major events WILL  likely change your partner, but the change may not be in the direction you wanted. Make your decisions based upon the current day and the core traits that help one to navigate to change (adaptability, communication, perseverance) rather than hope alone. He or she may change but don’t assume.

The way things are in the beginning is the way they’ll always be.

The beginning of a relationship acts much like Photoshop; we filter out the negative and enhance the positive. Enjoy it. But don’t drown in it. Reality, when it comes, can be a bit of a shock, but it also carries with it the potential deeper trust and intimacy. Everything changes. To expect otherwise is to live in disappointment.

Good relationships don’t require effort and/or intention (i.e. work).

ANYTHING worthwhile in life requires effort. And that includes marriage. It shouldn’t feel like you’re slaving away in the salt mines every day but it also won’t always be a day at the beach. Know that some days will be harder than others and that, if done well, the work you put in will pay dividends in your marriage. A marriage that needs effort doesn’t mean it’s not good; it just means that it is a union between two humans.

We will grow together through life’s difficulties.

I wish this was always true. But statistics prove otherwise. Marriages are more likely to fall apart during times of strain: death or illness of a child, infertility, unemployment. We expect that the way we feel and the way we demonstrate those feelings about the event in question is the same way our spouse feels. There are no magic salves for relationships weathering crisis, but you can strive to make sure you are a strong team before the wave hits.

 

So, what are realistic expectations of marriage?

A partnership built upon shared goals and values that operates with mutual respect and fidelity. A marriage that is not perfect and two people who accept imperfections in themselves and their partner. A union that does not meet all of your needs but that acts as a safe haven where you can be vulnerable and intimate. A merger of two people who are willing to take responsibility and work for the betterment of both.

Marriage can be wonderful. But it won’t ever be perfect.

Make sure your expectations are in line.

You’re Not Special

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You’re not special.

That realization was the  hardest pill for me to swallow post-divorce.

I would read or listen about the depths of pain others experienced through divorce and silently believe that my pain had to be different.

Special.

And I had plenty of evidence to back up my belief. After all, how many 16 year relationships end with a text, fraud and bigamy?

It was a great excuse to delay the real work of healing for a time; by focusing on the sordid details, I gave myself a reason to ignore the collective wisdom from the universal experience of love and loss. On the surface, I would graciously accept guidance and advice while tacitly believing that it didn’t apply to me.

Because I thought that my situation, my experience, my pain was special.

I focused on what set me apart rather than what bound me to the common.

I thought I was special. And that belief was both affirming and alienating, giving blessing to the pain and isolating me from others. It’s a lonely place, sorted into a group of one by the particulars of your story. The blessings of excuses soon wear out their welcome and the focus on the details begins to feel like an un-welcomed quarantine.

My unexpected guide out of the isolation chamber of my perceived specialness came in the form of books. Fiction, mostly, and in many cases, not even particularly good fiction. As has always been my habit, I made a weekly library trip and loaded up on whatever was available – mystery, thriller, historical and even some that could be classified as chic lit.

And I read.

And, as is to be expected, my own recent experiences altered the lens I used to view these fictitious worlds; I related to characters who were facing some unimaginable trauma and were suddenly tasked with the seemingly impossible assignment of rebuilding their lives.

And I learned that when it comes to pain, the details don’t matter.

I empathized with characters facing illness, losing loved ones in myriad ways, dealing with natural and manmade disasters and even with those experiencing what would be classified by most as a minor loss. I related to the antagonists and protagonists, men and women, children and elderly and even the occasional non-human. In almost every story, I found elements shared with my own.

My focus blurred, editing out the details and seeing instead the ever-present themes of love and loss, of fear and shame and of hope and persistence.

I wasn’t special.

And I welcomed that realization.

It meant I wasn’t alone. That others had faced similar and thrived. That even though this was a new path to me, it was well-worn and well-marked.

Pain isn’t a solitary experience and healing is not a solo journey.

And even though you are unique and awesome in your own way, when it comes to suffering, you’re not special.

Rather than focus on what sets your pain and experience apart, find comfort in what binds you to others.

You’re not special. And you’re also not alone.

Group hug?:)

 

 

Mother’s Maiden Name

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I knew his mother’s maiden name.

His parent’s middle names. His social security number. I could list his schools and their associated mascots. I knew the name and breed of every dog his family every owned. I’d sifted through all of his baby pictures, watching the chubby toddler grow into the awkward, skinny boy who finally transformed into the teenager I loved. I knew the family recipes and the family secrets.

But I keep coming back to his mother’s maiden name.

I used to find security in that knowledge, as though it was some talisman against future tragedy. I thought I knew everything about him. That I was so deep within the fold that secrets couldn’t exist between us.

It was an illusion, of course. You never completely know another person; you only know what they choose to show you.

It’s funny sometimes how life works out. The day after the text that ended it all, his mother’s maiden name gained me access into our joint accounts after he changed the password.

The talisman against tragedy became the key to unlocking the scope of the tragedy.

And in the end, that’s really all his mother’s maiden name was good for.

 

The Best is Yet to Come

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I had a conversation the other day where I challenged someone to describe the good that came from a recent and devastating break-up (I know, you’re shocked, right?).

Part of her response-

I love knowing that my best and happiest love is yet to come. I have that to look forward to.

She actually made me speechless with that assessment. In all my years of dissecting out every little scrap of good from my horrific divorce, this was one benefit I never unearthed. And yet, as soon as I heard it, I felt it.

And she’s right.

 

It’s so easy to grasp onto what was rather than hold hope for what can be.

It’s so easy to view the past through a rose tint and imagine that no future can ever measure up.

It’s so easy to focus on what has been lost rather than what can be gained.

It’s so easy to fill up on sadness and not leave room for smiles.

 

We zero in on what we know and what we know is the past, the pain.

Try making the belief that the best is yet to come at the center of your heart and aim your thoughts that way.

 

What I love about her words is that they focus on hope. They build excitement and anticipation. They speak of an assurance that our hearts are capable of love even after heartbreak.

The best is yet to come.

Are you ready for it?