The Marshmallow Test

Posted on by stilllearning2b

In the Stanford marshmallow experiment, young children were placed alone in a room with a single marshmallow. They were told that if they left the marshmallow alone until the experimenter returned, they would receive two marshmallows. Further studies indicated that children that could delay gratification had better life outcomes in terms of educational attainment and other life measurements.

If I had been administered the marshmallow test as a child by an absent-minded researcher, I would probably still be sitting in that 70s-themed room waiting for the return of the person in the white lab coat.

But is that a good thing?

Are there times when we are better off enjoying the single marshmallow rather than waiting for the promise of two?

I don’t know how I would label this trait in myself. I’m not sure if it is willpower, stubbornness or a fear of not playing by the rules. Probably a bit of all three. Regardless of its origin, I have never had trouble slogging through the muck to get to a goal. I might detour and I’ll certainly complain at times, but I will get there.

In my former life, this trait was put to the test many times. I drug myself through grad school for the promise of an increased salary that would benefit us both (or so I thought). I lived with a decaying deck for over 8 years until we had saved (or so I thought) to build our dream deck. I put off trips so that we could save money (or so I thought). I worked extra jobs, often tutoring 20 hours a week, to help save money for our future (or so I thought). I made sacrifices for the betterment of the marriage (or so I thought).

I was okay ignoring the single marshmallows on the table, confident that the promised two would soon be coming.

Except they never did.

While I was waiting, my ex, who I thought was waiting with me, was raiding the marshmallow stores. When I discovered his multiple betrayals and deceptions, part of my anger was that he was doing those things while I was making sacrifices. I gave and he stole.

As a result of all of this, I’ve changed my approach a bit. I am much more likely to balance decisions between the future and the present. I have learned how to spend money instead of squirreling it all away. I have learned how to enjoy the present instead of always waiting for the future. But I also haven’t really been tested. I’ve been able to live more for today, since my tomorrows have been so unknown.

I’m being tested right now.

I know part of it is that I’m a bit grumpy and frustrated over recent events. We usually go camping over spring break, but Brock had to be out of town for business. Then, strep throat cut short my Asheville trip. We were supposed to be camping this weekend, but this time weather foiled our plans. Hell, even the festival last weekend was impacted by my ex’s unexpected appearance. I’m whiny. I’m pouty. I feel like a kid proclaiming that it’s not fair. All I want is a trip. A break. It doesn’t have to be extravagant or prolonged. Just time away.

So, coming from that place and looking forward to the approaching summer, I brought up the idea of summer getaways with Brock over breakfast yesterday.

It was not the conversation I expected.

He kind of snapped.

He told me that he didn’t have time for trips. That just because I was off work, it didn’t mean that he was. He started talking about the house we intend to buy this fall and the need to save. Underlying these words is the pressure he feels as the primary provider and soon-to-be first time husband to support his family. In his job, unlike mine, more hours and more travel usually equate to a larger paycheck. He is currently choosing to sacrifice time for money for our future.

But he also said he understood my past and my fear of waiting for a future that never occurs.

It ended up being a really good conversation, even though I hate it when I realize how much my past still impacts me. So much of this comes down to trust. I have to trust that he isn’t stealing the marshmallows from behind my back. I have to trust that the promised time and trips will occur after the house has been purchased. I have to trust that we’re in this together.

Damn.

Why is this so hard?

How do I find that balance between waiting and living? Learning from my past and being limited by my past? Trusting and being?

I am ready for a home. I have tired of my nomadic existence over the past four years. I yearn for a place to put down roots and a garden for them to spread. I have only recently allowed myself to get excited about the prospect, however.  Even as I have directed funds towards a down payment, the future home seems like a mirage that will disappear before it becomes reality.

I need to trust.

I can wait for the promised two marshmallows, trusting that they will be there. Trusting that Brock will be there.

life is not a waiting room

Slaying the Dragon

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Regrettably, this is a metaphorical slaying only. No dragons (or ex husbands, as the case is here) were harmed in the making of this post.

Unfortunately.

 

It’s been a rough 24 hours after seeing my ex husband for the first time in over 3 years. I almost wish that I had called in sick to work today so that I could have taken care of myself sooner. As it was, I ended up crying at my desk for the first time since the divorce was in progress. Not exactly a good way to start the work week. Luckily, I pretty much had the tears (but not the shakes) under control by the time the kids got there.

I’m finally getting back to normal now after employing my favorite dragon-slaying strategies:

1) Ask

I can have a tendency to be stoic. “Oh, I’m fine,” when I’m not. Yesterday, I didn’t pretend. I told Brock exactly what I needed. I let appropriate friends know so that I could have support. I blogged about it, baring all. The messages of support that have been pouring in all day have been amazing. Strengthening. I was afraid that I would be laughed at for reacting so strongly. So far, nothing could be further from the truth. You guys are amazing.

2) Eat

I’m bad about this one. When I’m stressed, my body locks down and I lose all appetite. Once I don’t eat, it becomes easier to not eat. There was no way my body could tolerate food yesterday, but I made healthy, filling food a priority today. This kind of tension and anxiety burns a lot of fuel and I have to eat to stay sharp.

3) Laugh

I’ve always used humor to deal with difficulties. In the case of my ex, most of it is dark, revolving around revenge-type fantasies. In hypothetical retrospect, here’s what I could have done yesterday:

-Posted a crowd picture (with him in it) of the festival on my website and let my readers play “Where’s Dumbo.”

He is actually just out of the frame on this one.
He is actually just out of the frame on this one.

-Hacked into the computer that was hooked up to a huge screen at the festival and play my Jeff Probst episode.

-Redecorate the cornhole (probably a regional name for the game, basically lawn beanbags) boards with his mugshot.

-Give the woman that was with him one of my Lessons From the End of a Marriage business cards. If it was my former wife-in-law, she’s obviously a slow learner and could use a refresher. If it was another woman, she could the head’s up.

-Give him one of my Action Potential Wellness business cards. He sure looked like he could use it. I’m embarrassed by this, but I do have to giggle at his girth. Shallow? Yes. Cliche? Yes. But still funny. He is now only a few pounds shy of the belly that his father sported that was a favorite roost for the dogs.

-The festival is in a very liberal, hipster area of town. I could have located his car and plastered it with Romney, Confederate flag and anti-gay stickers. Tee hee.

-One of my friends that was there is a CPA. He could have offered his services to my ex, as I’m sure he has not paid off the IRS from the innocent spouse relief.

-I could have waited until he entered a porta potty and “accidentally” sealed the door and perhaps even tipped it over. By day 3 of a brewery-sponsered festival, they were fairly ripe.

4) Run

8+ miles of hard-pavement pounding through a beautiful neighborhood by the river. Running is so perfect for these times – it drains the energy from the body and lets the mind process. I feel restored. And sweaty.

5) Bang

Get your mind out of the gutter! I’m not talking about that kind of banging (not that it isn’t a critical component of dragon-slaying:) ). I’m talking here about head banging – AKA heavy metal. I can just hear my mom on this this one, “Oh Lisa,” shaking her head, “You should listen to calming music. Metal will only make you more anxious.” Nope, sorry mom. You’re wrong. I find when I am ramped up, trying to force calm just backfires (my morning meditation today would have been more at home on the heavy bag). Instead, I need to feed the energy so that I can bleed the energy. Pantera and Disturbed fit the bill nicely today.

6) Rest

And now for the final stage in slaying the dragon. I’ve released the energy, fueled the body and relaxed the mind. Now it’s time to rest and lay the dragon to rest. Hopefully for good.

spirit

Raw

Posted on by stilllearning2b

A follow up to Facing the Dragon:

 

Sleep has come in fits and spurts.

I’m in a fit right now.

Eating hasn’t come at all.

My body is still in lockdown.

 

I hate this physical reaction.  At least now, it’s purely physical. Seeing him felt more like facing an attacker than a lover. No emotion. Just a punch to the gut and an adrenaline shot straight to the heart.

 

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to see him again. Now I know.

 

Not that I want to do again. Once is enough, thank you.

 

But now I know he’s in the city. And I don’t like that feeling. I liked it better when he was in Uganda. Would it be wrong to send him fictitious job offers from Africa?

 

My throat is raw from the pollen.

My anxiety is raw from the vision.

My body is raw from the stress.

 

I feel debrided.

 

In a way, he has been a character to me. Other than in court, the last time I saw him, he was my husband. The man who did these things has not been present in my life in flesh and blood. Yesterday, that character became embodied.

 

It was jarring, the way that people who have had an out of body experience talk about being slammed back into their now-unfamiliar flesh.

 

In the early months, I used to stare at his mug shot, looking for any signs of the man I knew. Although the man yesterday was so familiar to me, he is not the man I knew. He never will be.

 

Brock has been great. And so was the friend I was with when I saw my ex. The friend, who had to leave to teach a class, stayed with me until Brock and our other friends showed up. He refused to leave me alone. Of the others, I only told Brock about the situation. As much as possible, I just wanted to enjoy the day. I told Brock that I didn’t want to walk anywhere alone (out of character for me) and he was great about staying with me when I needed the bathroom or a refill.

 

As soon as I got home, I took a shower. I wanted to scrub away the vision along with the dirt. Brock joined me and held me as I let out the sobs that I had been holding in. Just now, as I awoke and left the bedroom, he made sure I was okay. He and Tiger continue to protect the second floor while I release my energy downstairs.

 

It’s strange to have this familiar feeling in my now-home. I spent many nights like this 4 years ago during the transition out of one life and into another. It feels like a violation of this life.

 

I learned before that the best way to drain this anxiety is to run. I guess I know my plans for after work today:) I wish I didn’t have to wait so long. I expect to be reset after 10 miles or so. Less raw. Less shaky. Hopefully hungry.

 

As I sat on that hill yesterday, watching my old life walk by, I was thankful to be in my life now. I was surrounded by people that have only come into my life when he walked out and now I cannot imagine life without them.

 

For now, I’ll enjoy one of the few positive side effects of an inability to sleep and I’ll finish the book I started yesterday, Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods. Perhaps his walk will help to soothe me to slumber.

 

And I’ll feel safe knowing that Brock and Tiger are protecting the second floor.

 

The humor returns…Slaying the dragon

Facing the Dragon

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It. Happened.

Almost four years now and it happened.

The event I’ve been anticipating and dreading since the text.

I saw him.

Let me go back a bit.

I received the text in July of 2009. I have had no direct communication with him since – only a single text conversation with my mother (detailed in the book) and through layers of lawyers during the divorce.

The divorce was final in March of 2010.

I kept up with his whereabouts (and his other wife’s location) during that time. The last time I looked was the day after the divorce was final. I have not know where he was living or who he was living with.

But today, I saw him.

I was at an annual Atlanta festival, one I used to go to with my ex and one which I now attend with my fiance and our friends. At the time I saw him, I was sitting on a tarp with a single friend while waiting on Brock and the others to make it to the park.

It’s strange. The last time I saw him was three years ago in court. My mom and I walked right past him and I didn’t recognize him, even though I knew he may be there. Today, I had not thought of him at all, yet when he crossed my path, I recognized him immediately.

He had the same walk. The same gray Banana Republic Shirt. The same hair. He was heavy. Fat, even. His weight varied quite a bit through our relationship, from a scrawny 160 on his broad 6’1″ frame to a high of 250. When I saw him in court, he was back to his skinny high school frame. Today? He must have been 280. His belly strained the fabric of his designer t-shirt.

But I knew him instantly.

He was hand in hand with a woman. It may have been the other wife. I’m not sure. She was blond and hippy like her, but I only knew her from pictures, phone and email so I cannot be positive. It doesn’t matter.

From our vantage point on a hill, I saw him several times. I felt sick. Ill. The shaking returned. Even now, home again after a purifying shower, I’m emotional yet I can pinpoint no singular emotion.

I certainly felt no love. No jealousy. No desire to speak to him.

I wasn’t angry.

But I feel violated in a way. I don’t want him here. In my circles. My city.

I came here for him but I’ve claimed it now.

I chose to not to run but also not to approach. I watched him for almost thirty minutes. By the time Brock and others showed up, the crowds had thickened and I did not see him again.

Part of me thought of alertng the swarms of police to the wanted felon in their midst. I guess they didn’t check for that when they checked IDs at the gate.

I watched him and I remembered being at that festival with him four years ago.

I watched him and I remembered a 4th of July festival on the second to last day we were together as husband and wife.

I watched him and felt a strange sense of disconnectedness, adrift from my old life.

I watched him and felt my body tremble with the release of emotion.

I watched him and felt relief that I faced the dragon.

I watched him and felt nothing.

So why am I still shaking?

Why the tears?

 

A few hours later… Raw.

And then humor returned…Slaying the Dragon

 

 

 

 

It’s Not Alphabetical, But “Me” Comes Before “Marriage”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

There has been quite a bit of discourse over the last few years about the relative happiness and health of people with different relationship statuses.  Much of the popular literature has given the impression that married people are happier; therefore, become married to improve your well-being.  The problem with this position is that they are confusing correlation with causation.  Doesn’t it make more sense that happy people are more likely to get and stay married than a ring possessing magical powers?

Does Marriage Make Us Happy? Should It? | Psychology Today.

Whenever we rely on external sources for our fulfillment, well-being, and happiness, we will ultimately be disappointed.  We have to find those things within ourselves before we can find a partner that can see them too and before we can see them in another.  In order to be the best partner possible, we first must address ourselves:

How can you trust others, if you do not have trust in yourself?

How can you care for others, if you cannot care for yourself?

How can you have faith in others, if you do not have faith in yourself?

How can you be loyal to another, if you cannot be loyal to yourself?

How can you be responsible for another, if you cannot be responsible for yourself?

How can you be with another, if you cannot be with yourself?

How can you love another, if you cannot love yourself?

So, throw away the dictionary, and look to yourself before you look to marriage to make you happy and well.