Teamwork

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sometimes I want to smack myself.

No, really.

You see, I’m good at seeing patterns in other people’s behavior or actions, but always so good at spotting it when it hits closer to home.

Sort of a psychological case of farsightedness.

And when it finally comes into focus, it seems so obvious. So clear.

That it just about smacks me across the face.

 

The new patio table (to replace the one shattered by the neighbor’s tree) arrived on Wednesday. Even though we were both tired, Brock and I made the decision to assemble the table that afternoon so that we could finally put the tree event behind us. I changed into shorts while he cued up some tunes. Over the next hour or so, we unwrapped and untied. Carried and bolted. And, finally, just as the sun slid behind the tall trees, we placed the cushions on the seats.

And through it all, we barely spoke.

Not because we were angry. Or upset. Or distant.

But because no words were needed. We split up to conquer individual tasks only to reunite to tackle challenges that required more than two hands. We catered to strengths and anticipated needs.

It was awesome.

 

And it was also new.

 

I used to grow frustrated when undertaking a project with Brock. I remembered working smoothly, effortlessly with my ex and tasks attempted with Brock always seemed to take too long and require too much emotional effort. Of course, I attributed this to him. After all, I had been able to work in concert with someone else, so it couldn’t be because of any deficits or traits of mine. Sometimes I missed the easy nature of working on a shared task that I had with my ex, but I also accepted that this was not an area of strength for Brock and I.

But I made a mistake in my reasoning. I was comparing how my ex and I were after many years (and the endless projects of a fixer-upper house) to how Brock and I were after only a few years with fewer projects. And I had conveniently forgotten the frustrations that my ex and I encountered as we learned to work together. As with anything in a relationship, teamwork is formed, not found. The frustrations that Brock and I felt had little to do with our different approaches and unique perspectives and much more to do with a lack of practice.

And practice makes better.

Even in marriage.

 

 

 

How to Love And Be Loved After Divorce

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve always hated the term “baggage.”

 

It implies that that some people are more trouble than they’re worth because of what has happened in their pasts. That those of us who have had the misfortune of cheating exes or tumultuous divorces are somehow doomed by our experiences. It assumes that our histories are our destinies and that we carry our traumas like an anchor around the neck.

 

Yet the dismissive term of “baggage” ignores the fact that those who have experienced relationship trauma can often make wonderful partners that are more attuned and adept at monitoring and using emotions. That rather than just “getting over it,” many choose to “learn from it,” becoming better and stronger than ever before.

 

Life is not about what happened to us. It’s about how we choose to respond to what happens.

It’s not the baggage that matters. It’s all in how you carry it.

 

My now-husband had every right to run when he first heard my story. At the time we met, I was at the tail end of a very difficult divorce and taking the first shaky steps into my new life. I was no longer shock raw from my ex’s abandonment and betrayals, but I was nowhere near healed. Triggers would lie in wait, ready to pounce when I least expected it. I was overly sensitive in some areas and still numb in others. I wanted to be healed and was making active progress, but the finish line was still far in the distance.

 

And yet even with all of that, my now-husband didn’t run.

 

Instead, he helped me find my way to healed. He didn’t take the steps for me, but he cheered me. Pushed me. Rendered aide when needed. And waited patiently while I journeyed the course.

 

If you are in a partnership with someone who is still healing from a past relationship, you need to know the following:

Read read the rest on The Good Men Project.

Making Your Second Marriage Better

Posted on by stilllearning2b

See me along with Ron Deal and Maureen McGrath on Huff Post Live talking about how to make your second marriage better! 

The Second Time Around

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I am as familiar with the statistics as anyone – two thirds of second marriages are expected to end in divorce. There are many factors often cited for this depressing outcome. The family unit is more diverse and less cohesive. The children tend to be older and more independent, thus staying together for the sake of the kids is less of an issue. The ghosts of spouses past can continue to haunt the new marriage. Perhaps one or both partners moved too quickly into a new relationship rather than allowing sufficient time to heal from the divorce or to address underlying issues. Or, maybe they spent so much time single that partnered life with its compromises and complexities is no longer a fit. And, of course, there is the fact that once you have been divorced and survived, it may be easier to tread that path again.

Regardless of the reasons, the numbers are clear. Second marriages are more likely to fail than first unions. But, when it comes to relationships, I don’t care about statistics. I care about individual marriages, including my own. And, rather than focus on the added challenges that can impact subsequent marriages, I choose to acknowledge the ways that a marriage can be better the second time around.

Value

I took my first marriage and my first husband for granted. He was always there and I assumed he would always be there. It wasn’t that I treated him poorly or neglected the marriage, I just didn’t understand the fragility of it and that it could disappear so easily. Read the rest on The Huffington Post.

It Doesn’t Matter How You Got Here

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Wow.

What a week.

The wedding was simple, personal and beautiful.

The weather cooperated.

The venue cooperated.

The dog did not. He seemed to have trouble understanding the concept of standing still on a woodland path. Instead of turning his gaze towards the camera, he kept looking wistfully at the trail. That’s okay’ we love him anyway:)

We ended up getting married beside a mossy creek on the Ely’s Mill property at the base of the Roaring Forks Loop. It was a magical location, even better than the original – locked up tight behind the national park shutdowns- site.

Change can be good.

We enjoyed a few quiet and scheduleless days in a cabin outside Gatlinburg.

And then we came home and celebrated. A roving and riotous party that spanned from afternoon until morning. Our home, “our” restaurant and finally, “our” downtown filled with the smiles and laughter of our friends. What an amazing night. What a precious gift.

 

I usually take about four naps in the span of a year.

Yesterday, I took two.

I could have used another today.

 

 

I have so many thoughts scratching at the inside of my head, begging to be written. But only one is fighting through the fatigue tonight:

 

The actual ceremony consisted of pretty traditional vows and was led by a pastor that we only met minutes before. I don’t know if he looked at the marriage license and chose his words based upon our not-exactly-super-young ages (36 and 40) or my prior marriage, but one sentence he shared hit us both hard.

“It doesn’t matter how you got here; what matters is here and now.”

He’s right.

And, I’m happy to say, that it is more than just words to me now. I felt at complete peace with my past the entire week. Random memories popped up on occasion (more to do with Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge than wedding stuff), but they passed through easily with no emotion.

I was married before.

It doesn’t matter.

I was left behind.

It doesn’t matter.

I was betrayed.

It doesn’t matter.

None of those things have any bearing on today if I choose not to let them have any bearing on today.

What matters is here and now.

 

When I was unpacking and sorting after the trip, I came across three prescription bottles. They contained the leftovers of the medications that I took that first year to help me sleep and eat and function. I started weaning myself off the medications the day after the divorce and haven’t taken any in well over three years.

But I held onto the remaining pills for all this time.

What if I couldn’t sleep again? What if my appetite vanished again? What if the fear and the pain and the anxiety crippled me again?

Much of the time, I forgot that I even had the vials. But, when I would happen across them, I would always hesitate and then place them back in their bin. I wasn’t ready.

But last week, when I recognized those orange bottles even though the labels had faded to white, I did not hesitate.

I released them.

They are relics of my past.

And they don’t matter.

What matters is here and now.

 

On a totally random side note that gave me a bit of a chuckle, for those of you who wonder how someone can commit bigamy (Getting Away With Bigamy), it’s still pretty easy. I carried an original copy of my divorce decree into the courthouse, thinking I would need it. Nope, I just needed to give them the date the divorce was final. Pretty scary. Kinda makes you wonder how common it actually is…