I started watching The Dog Whisperer about a year after my sudden divorce. Much to my surprise, I learned even more about myself from Cesar Millan than I did about my dog. He always says in his show that he “rehabilitates dogs,” but he “trains people.” In my case, he helped to rehabilitate me after a particularly difficult time in my life. Here are the life lessons I learned from the Dog Whisperer:
In a recent piece on The Huffington Post, Dr. Mark Banschick describes four outcomes after a cheater is caught or decides to come clean:1) the cheater can make amends and the marriage continues, 2)the cheater can make amends and the marriage ends, 3)the cheated upon can choose to end the marriage or 4)the cheater can blame the other spouse for their actions and then leave the marriage. It seems like common sense, but reading this was a lightbulb moment for me. Part of my pain was in the fact that my husband was a type four – he blamed me and left. Not only were there no amends, but he didn’t even acknowledge his actions. In a way, I was lucky. I had no choice but to accept the fact that he was a type four. After all, leaving the state, refusing contact and committing bigamy made it pretty unlikely that I would get an apology. I had no choice but to move on.
Others are not so lucky. They have a type four spouse but they are holding out for him or her to turn into a type one or two and accept responsibility for their actions. Their hope and their reality do not match and the disconnect adds another layer of pain and anger.
Dr. Banschick classified the end of an affair – the choices left once the betrayal is uncovered. Affairs are different even before the end, with other factors complicating the situation and the healing process. I think it can be helpful to classify your affair as a way of finding acceptance and understanding of your particular situation and the factors that it contains.
Simple does mean easy. This is a straightforward case of infidelity with no complicating factors.
Compound infidelity is where there are secondary or tertiary betrayals.
Known Affair Partner: If the partner is a friend or confident of yours, you will feel betrayed by your spouse and your friend. Both relationships were violated.
Multiple Partners: These are the serial cheaters. The betrayed has to face the knowledge that their partner has made the choice to cheat multiple times with many people. This may have gone on for years before it is discovered.
Children: If there are children in the marriage, there is a sense that the cheater betrayed the family, not just the spouse. If and when the kids learn of the betrayal, they may internalize it and blame themselves for their parent’s infidelity.
Financial Betrayal: This is where the cheater extends the lying to finances. Marital funds may have been used to fund the affair(s). It is another major breach of trust in the marriage.
Complex infidelity is where there are complicating factors that can interfere with the betrayed’s ability to heal.
Abandonment: In many cases of spousal abandonment, the disappearing spouse has another partner at the ready. The betrayed has to face the discovery of infidelity while alone and abandoned. Part of the pain in this case is the feeling of having your voice stolen as there is no spouse to talk to or even scream at.
Gaslighting: This is the type 4 cheater before he/she is caught. The unfaithful partner blames the spouse and make him or her feel crazy for noticing inconsistencies or signs of wrongdoing. This pattern slowly wears away at the confidence of the betrayed, causing them to question what is real and what is fabrication.
Illegitimate Child(ren): When the unfaithful partner has a child as a result of infidelity, it negates any chances of a clean break from the affair partner. In the case of n unfaithful wife, a man may discover that he has been raising another man’s child as his own. Regardless of the circumstances, there is now an innocent who is caught in the web of deceit.
Addiction: Addiction and infidelity are not uncommon partners. They both thrive on secrecy and lies. If there is addiction present, it makes it even more difficult to reestablish trust.
This is the combination of two or more of the situations above.
Regardless of the nature of the infidelity, betrayal is one of the worst pains someone can experience. Unless you have felt its cutting edge, you cannot fathom the devastation of being stabbed by the one you embrace. It is possible to heal from betrayal and that healing has to start with acceptance. Recognize the complicating factors in your situation. Be aware of where you have control and where you do not. Distinguish between when you need to fight and when to let go.
Learning to trust after betrayal is not easy. Not only is there the struggle with trusting a new partner, but there is also the challenge of learning to trust your own instincts and perceptions, especially if you were unaware of the affair. The body and subconscious mind respond as though there is a threat even when the rational mind knows there is not. It takes patience and time and a willingness to face the discomfort. It’s not easy, but it is also not impossible.
As a teacher, I am quite familiar with the application of labels. Each summer, prior to ever meeting my new students, I study the rosters. Many of the names have associated labels next to them: ADHD, learning disability, autistic, ESOL, etc. These labels are helpful when these children are nothing more than a list of names. It is a starting point.
When I learn that hypothetical Johnny has ADHD, I use that information when I create my first seating chart. I know that he might be a good choice to run an errand to the front office or to help me hand out papers. I won’t be surprised at an off-topic outburst and I’ll have strategies at hand for how to handle one if it occurs. Before ever meeting Johnny, I can have an idea of some of his characteristics and I can plan ahead to meet his needs. However, it would be completely inappropriate for me to stop there. Johnny may have ADHD but he is not his label. As I get to know him, the label loses its importance. The diagnosis tells me nothing of Johnny’s strengths and weaknesses, his adaptive behaviors, his likes and dislikes or especially his personality.
A label should be an anchor, not a limitation.
Whenever I plan a lesson that introduces a new math concept, I start by anchoring the new material to prior knowledge. When I tell students that the new concept is like something they have seen before, it gives them a place to start. Then, as they learn the new material, they can adjust the expectations laid out by the early comparison.
Labels work that same way – they initiate expectations that should be tempered with experience.
When I tell you I am a teacher, you have a starting point for understanding me. You know that I’ve been to college. You can assume that I’m a people person. Maybe you think of a particular teacher in your past. Then, I tell you I grew up in the 1980s. Maybe that causes a revision of your earlier expectations or maybe it just allows you to flesh things out, as you make decisions about what music I may listen to or how I wear my hair. We can continue that process, with each label adding more information and more clarification. Eventually, you would know me and those labels would be inconsequential. Until you were trying to describe me to someone else, that is.
Labels can help us find understanding.
When I went through my divorce, I grasped at labels to describe my husband. I realized that he was not all of the things I thought he was. He was a stranger. So, like we all do when first getting to know someone, I turned to labels to try to develop a framework to anchor new understanding. My favorite designation for him was sociopath. It explained the callousness and extreme nature of the betrayal. It was a starting point. But not the end. As with all labels, some parts fit and others didn’t. As I worked to get to “know” him again, I revised my views, adding some terms and removing others, until the labels no longer mattered.
I use labels when I write about my story. I temper the word ‘divorce’ with ‘tsunami’ to capture the suddenness of my experience. I use the label ‘trauma’ to convey the overwhelming loss. I recently introduced the term ‘PTSD,’ not as a diagnosis, but as a framework to discuss the anxiety and flashbacks that permeated my existence. Those single words hold pages of information. It is a kind of shorthand – a broad strokes sketch of the entire story.
Labels are like Cliff Notes. We use them as shortcuts as we develop our own understanding or to help someone else develop theirs. Just like Cliff Notes, they are not the entire story, full of detail and nuance. If we stop at labels, we are limiting ourselves and others. We may be blinded by assumptions as we fill in the gaps in our knowledge automatically.
Don’t be afraid to use labels but also be careful not to apply them with superglue. They should be used to anchor understanding, not to limit understanding.
I wrote before about the link between PTSD and divorce. After the response I received, I decided to take this topic to a wider audience via The Huffington Post.
When my husband left, I trembled for a year. That’s not just some figurative language used to convey emotion; I literally shook. For a year. My body quaked from the aftershocks of the sudden trauma, my legs constantly kicking and my hands quivering. Those weren’t my only symptoms, either. I had flashbacks and nightmares that took me back to the to the day where I received the text that ended my marriage. The 21-word incoming message read: “I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and leaving the state.” From then on, the sound of an incoming message would actually send me to the floor, where I braced myself for another digital attack. I felt numb and had trouble remembering aspects of my marriage or my husband. I avoided sights and sounds that were associated with my marriage, often driving well out of my way to steer clear of my old neighborhood. I couldn’t sleep; I was hyper alert, always scanning every room and ready to fight or flee at any moment. I could not eat and my weight fell to dangerous levels.
My ex husband came from an alcoholic family. And if there is one thing alcoholic families excel at, it’s keeping secrets.
My ex learned his role from a young age. He didn’t discuss his parents with others. He didn’t invite his friends over to his house. He learned how to keep a low profile and stay out of the line of fire. He learned not to have expectations of his parents and how to survive on his own. He learned to shut his door and shut his mouth.
I thought he could overcome his family.
I was brought into the inner folds of the family within a few short months of dating. He told me the stories of his dad passed out on the couch or drunk at his birthday party. I received a call when his dad was taken by ambulance to the emergency room due to excessive alcohol consumption. He relayed the tales of his mom, weeping and emotional, turning to her son for support in the middle of the night. I saw the endless rum and cokes. I witnessed the change in his parents as they drank to hide their pain. I perceived the unsaid behind the silences.
I still thought he could overcome his family.
When I helped his mom rearrange the living room, she showed me his baby pictures which we had unearthed. I learned some of the family secrets. I discovered that his father had been married before and had technically committed bigamy, since the divorce from wife number one was not yet final. I learned of his father’s disgraceful exit from the military and equally disgraceful exit from what was a very prestigious career. I heard about the mismanagement of money and how they went from earning six figures to living in a crumbling house in a undesirable area.
I still thought he could overcome his family.
My ex husband strove to separate himself from his parents. He was determined not to make their mistakes. He looked to the Boy Scouts to be his surrogate parents. He made friends and joined their families. He was driven to succeed and to escape his lineage. He lived in fear of turning into his father.
I still thought he could overcome his family.
He may not have kept the family secrets from me, but he still applied those lessons to other areas. There was an incident at scout camp shortly before we started dating. An incident that left several long ropey parallel scars across his lower back. He never did reveal what happened. I actually looked for familiar names and locations on the recently released list of scout leaders that had been convicted of sexual crimes. Nothing stood out. But I wonder…
I still thought he could overcome his family.
But apparently those lessons of silence and secrets were too embedded. The skill set just waiting in the wings until the right moment came along. When he began to struggle during our marriage (with money, alcohol, depression, employment…who knows?), his reflexes kicked in and he covered it up. He kept silent and he kept secrets. And through those secrets, he turned his biggest fear into reality. He became his father.
I wish that he had been able to overcome his family. And I hope that it is not too late for him. I hope that he is able to see the truth and no longer be compelled to keep it a secret.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 