I really enjoyed doing this interview. Susanne asked some great questions that led me to talk about parts of my story that I rarely reflect on. Additionally, I also give some advice for people who are facing a tsunami divorce.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gb62VHYJN04&feature=youtu.be
We stood in front of the security line of the Atlanta airport. I felt so loved, so safe in the familiar space created between his chest and his arms, listening to his heart beat through his shirt. I teared up a little as I turned away, already missing my husband of sixteen years as soon as the physical contact was broken.
It was supposed to be goodbye for a week.
It turned out to be goodbye forever.
By the next time I saw him, eight months later in the courtroom, he had become a stranger. A forbidding stranger.
In an instant, this man had gone from my protector to my persecutor. My ally to my greatest threat. And instead of professing love, he was waging war.
It was as though a switch had been flipped.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around the seemingly abrupt transformation. Had this malicious man been hiding in my marital bed the entire time? Did he somehow wake up one morning a different person? Or was he always this way and I was finally able to see the truth?
The reality is probably a little bit of all of those.
Self-protection is at the root of behavior.
To begin with, it’s important to remember that at its core, all behaviors are self-protecting. To that end, it made sense for him to play the part of a loving husband while he chose to remain in the picture. This act allowed him to avoid my rage, sadness and disappointment over the reality of his actions.
Once he left, the distance and coldness again protected him from feeling my pain. In essence, by acting as though he didn’t care, he could begin to believe it. A barrier of disassociation. In this view, the switch was flipped more in an effort to prevent pain than in an effort to inflict damage.
For my part, believing in his good-husband routine insulated me from the painful truth during our marriage. I didn’t want to see the deception he was capable of, so I chose to believe in the best of him. And then once he left, a switch was flipped in me. I couldn’t understand how someone I loved (and who I thought loved me) could do those things, so I chose to see him as all-bad. This view, and the distance it provided, served to protect me from further damage to an open heart.
Cognitive dissonance is a powerful force.
Cognitive dissonance happens when somebody’s beliefs about themselves and their behaviors are not in alignment. It is a very uncomfortable position, and so we often strive to change either our actions or our beliefs so that they again line up.
One of the ways that my ex minimized his cognitive dissonance between the conflicting belief of seeing himself as a good person and the action of committing bigamy is by justifying his choices. Over time (and without my knowledge), he had demonized me, both in his mind and to others.This belief then allowed him to act in a cruel and hateful manner towards me while still maintaining his internal integrity.
My own cognitive dissonance was amplified towards the end of the marriage as the belief that my husband was an amazing guy was beginning to be challenged by the cracks in his facade. And then upon the receipt of the text that ended it, the wool was brutally ripped away from my eyes.
And for the first time, I saw him as he was, not as he wanted to be seen.
You can’t see the big picture until all of the pieces have been assembled.
I now believe that the man I married was not the same man I divorced many years later. He changed, significantly and detrimentally, most likely from a combination of addiction and unaddressed childhood trauma.
Yet, even though he was not the cold and calculating man when we wed, that potential was within him. I saw some of the signs and yet I chose to discount them, brush them off as inconsequential.
And it was only later, once he removed his mask and I began to assemble all of the clues, that I could see how it all fit together. Even though the change felt abrupt, it was more a matter of the final piece being slid into place.
Hate is not the opposite of love.
And then there’s this – the opposite of love is not hate. It’s indifference. When we truly don’t care about someone, we don’t expend the energy to make them miserable. When an ex is trying to make your life difficult or attempting to manipulate you, it’s a sign they have not yet let go. And it can also be an indication – albeit an agonizing one – of their own pain.
When you’re facing the brunt of your ex’s coldness and distance, it’s hard to respond with anything but shock, hurt and indignation. Maybe this will help.
I’ve never felt so powerless.
I had no money because he had taken it all.
I had no voice because he left with a text and refused any contact.
I had no information because he had taken important files and changed account passwords.
I felt like he called all the shots and I was left with nothing but shrapnel through my heart.
At first, I felt helpless. A victim of his choices and his actions. Wounded and weak.
And then I got angry. Furious that he would and could make decisions without me that had such a devastating impact on my life. Fuming and ruminating.
And finally, I got busy. Learning and working to move beyond his behaviors. Motivated and determined.
Part of what makes an unwanted divorce so scary and leads to a sense of helplessness is a lack of knowledge. When my ex left, I had no information about divorce laws in my state. I didn’t know anything about the legalities of debt and home ownership. I was ignorant about the resources available from the IRS for innocent spouses.
I knew nothing. And, as a result, I feared everything, often catastrophizing every situation.
So I read. I listened. I studied. And I learned.
And with each piece of knowledge, even those that were contrary to my desired answers, I felt just a little bit calmer. A little bit more in control.
Start researching. Learn everything you can. Let knowledge be your shield, your sword and your security blanket. We often avoid what we’re afraid of. But that only makes it worse. Face it and learn about it. Knowledge makes every obstacle a little less daunting.
With an unwanted divorce, you feel as though you’ve been kept in the dark. Which makes accumulating information a great source of power. The more you know, the more options you have.
It’s hard to let go of the life you thought you had. We all get stuck in a track of expectations. When my ex left, I was left stuttering over my future. I kept trying to see how things were going to work out and I kept hitting walls.
Until I realized that I needed to tear down those mental walls that were keeping me enclosed in the remains of the life I had. Instead of trying to stay within the constraints of my former life, I allowed myself to mentally fly beyond.
And I dreamed big. And wide. Some of those options were pretty inconceivable, but I didn’t censor them. I simply explored them in my mind and in my journal.
I composed if…thens… that addressed every possible move I could envision him making. Some were overzealous. Some were absurd. Some were even illegal.
But they all made me feel better.
You cannot control what happens to you, but you can always chose how to respond.
Explore your options. Don’t worry if they seem impossible. Right now, it’s only a mental exercise. Let your imagination carry yourself far beyond your walls.
When divorce happens to you, it’s easy to feel as though a huge roadblock has been plunked down in your life. Which means exploring side paths is a tremendous source of power. The more options you have, the more you can influence.
It is easy to focus on the things you cannot control. I remember wishing that I could make him talk to me. Make him accept the help he so obviously needed. Make him admit responsibility and express remorse.
Of course, I could do none of those things.
But that didn’t mean that I was entirely helpless.
I could reach out to friends and family for help. I could find meaning and purpose through those relationships and others. I could start to date again and learn to trust again. I could reevaluate my priorities and restructure my life to fit my goals. I could find a way to transform the pain into a positive movement that could bring comfort to others.
Create a two-sided list. On one side, list all of the things you cannot control. Those are the things to work towards letting go. On the other side, list all of the things within your sphere of influence. No matter how small. Those are the things to focus on cultivating and nurturing.
With unwelcome divorce comes an overabundance of things you cannot control. Which means that enumerating that which you can influence is a great source of power. The more influence you have, the more freedom you gain.
An empty bank account is a great source of vulnerability and impotence. I’ve never felt so small as when I couldn’t even pay for lunch. Although I was fortunate enough to have my own source of income, it was greatly outweighed by the debts he saddled me with.
And that lack of financial freedom and flexibility was a huge source of fear and helplessness.
I vowed to take control of my own finances. Here are the steps I took. And with every dollar of debt paid down or with every penny put into savings, I gained just a little more control over my future.
An uninvited divorce often brings with it a financial crisis. Which means that every step you take towards financial independence brings with it a sense of power. The more freedom you gain, the less dependence you have.
The unfairness of it overwhelmed me. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that he could cause so much harm and then slip out through the back door like a thief in the night. I had so much to say (okay, scream) to him and I had so much that I thought I needed to hear from him.
I thought my voice was stolen.
And although I couldn’t force him to listen or require him to speak the words I wanted, I could compose them myself. I know it seems a bit silly that writing unseen words can release some of the pain. But it can. I know it seems strange that writing the words that you want to hear can help you soften. But it can. Here are 6 letters to write after divorce.
It’s an empowering feeling not only taking back your voice, but using it to make yourself better. Don’t wait for somebody else to listen or to speak. You have the words you need to hear and you can express what you need to say.
The words you say to others have influence. The words you say to yourself have power.
With unwanted divorce, the discussion is often left unfinished. Which means that each word you express and release brings with it a sense of power. The less dependence you have, the more space you’ll find.
In the beginning, I embodied the pain. I couldn’t tell where the agony ended and where I began. I felt like I was at the mercy of my thoughts, triggers unmercifully bringing images and emotions that overwhelmed me on a daily basis.
I tried blocking them out, refusing them entrance. They laughed at my feeble mental barricades. I tried ignoring them, distracting myself through work and dating. They snuck in around the edges, overtaking me like a leak in a canoe.
And finally, I just noticed them. Accepted them. But refused to entertain them. A new meditation practice allowed me to find space between my pain and me. In time, the thoughts grew weaker and I grew stronger.
Find your own form of mediation, of mindfulness. Learn to be in the moment. To be free of judgement. To be aware of your emotions without the need to chase them down.
With divorce, the pain is often pervasive and overwhelming. Which means that as you learn to create space between you and your pain, you find a sense of mastery of your emotions. The more space you find, the more powerful you will be in your own life.
As I was slicing up a head of red cabbage this past weekend, I had a sudden craving for cabbage slaw. And not just any slaw, but the one my former mother in law used to make (and I used to devour).
Which made me realize that there were certain things I would have done towards the end if I known that my marriage was heading for a (by that time, inevitable) cliff:
1 – I would ask my mother in law for that cabbage recipe. And I would take her out to lunch to get it. And while there, I would thank her for being so kind to me, especially when I had such a rough year during my first term in college. And I would give her a letter to read when she was feeling timid or overwhelmed filled with words of empowerment and encouragement.
2 – I would have backed up our entire iTunes library onto CDs. I lost most of my music with my husband; the password to the account was changed and I no longer had access. It’s still such a tease when I go to play a favorite artist or album only to realize that it is among the lost songs. My dad gifted me some Amazon cards years ago that I used to replace the most important music. That was nice:)
3 – I would have talked to my then-husband’s friends. Two in particular. I would have let them know that I was concerned about him (assuming that I knew enough to be) and asked them to a) call him out on his BS and b) be there for him. He needed a support system. Instead of building it, he systematically disassembled it.
4 – I would have researched divorce laws in my state, especially as it relates to fault vs no fault. Because I really handled that poorly because of a lack of knowledge combined with panic. It’s a deadly combination. And I also would have asked friends for attorney recommendations; it’s not a time when you want to rely on Google.
5 – I would have said goodbye to him at the airport with the knowledge that it really was goodbye. I would have said a little more. Held on a minute longer.
6 – I would have posted the following on my bathroom mirror, on my computer, in my car and basically everywhere I would see it:
Everything is going to be okay. Breathe it. Believe it. And live it.
How about you? If you could do some things differently in those final weeks of your marriage, what would you change?
This is one of those links that I’ve pondered in the past but it has really come to a head in the past few days. First, Paulette posted the following review of my book:
Lisa Arends does an effective job in writing about the aftermath, the fallout, of a life-changing shock, on the abrupt desolation of her marriage. The read is a well done walk through all the PTSD and repeating changes that occur, which is depicted in a letter written to her by her exited husband, the commentary on the letter under the umbrella of the devastating changes she experienced, emotionally, physically and logistically are a walk through the fact that PTSD is not just relegated to victims of war, but to any life encounter that uproots your very existence in a shocking manner. She’s a likeable author, an engaging woman, that you take to and feel for, because she portrays the story, the horror she lived, with veracity and integrity, to allow the facts to unfold on the page even if they point a finger back to her (ie: a text from her spouse to his mother-in-law, Lisa’s mother). Devastation upon devastation unravels and what we hold onto dearly is lost, not just in the relationship but also in the family built around it, fury and otherwise. Arends navigates through this debacle with grace and humility, filled with emotions that are painted with strokes that are sure to offer others in similar situations some reflections and ground; she labels as “Lessons” chapter after chapter, ultimately culminating in what she has learned, valuable life lessons, applicable to anyone. But, this is not just a self-help work, or a read for someone in a similar situation, it’s a compelling story of the frailty and misconceptions we all live with, the thin line of trust & betrayal, confidence and fright, love and rejection, all the things that make the paradoxes of life and keep a balance, hopefully the balance stays in some semblance of equilibrium. In Arends case she tilts off the scale and by the Grace of her very nature, the love of her family, and whatever else strength she draws from she journeys through to meet what is most precious to all of us, connecting and opening to trust (applause to Tiger, no spoilers) despite all temptations not to, and in doing so, learning the ultimate, that love does conquer and cannot be soiled by another’s shadow cast upon our soul.
In the book, I never name PTSD. I only describe the events and my reactions. Yet, here was a third party who deemed that to be an accurate label.
Then, yesterday, a post from Out of the Chrysalis (Does PTSD After Divorce Exist? You Better Believe It) showed up in my inbox. I totally related to her description of her experience.
And I do believe it. PTSD happens when your mind cannot process the extent of the trauma. It’s like a short circuit in your nervous system, where you have trouble distinguishing between real and perceived threats. We tend to think of PTSD as occurring only in life-threatening situations, but it occur anytime there is an acute or prolonged trauma. Not all divorces lead to PTSD, but if it is sudden or abusive, the trauma can be severe and sudden enough to lead to PTSD-like symptoms.
According to the Mayo Clinic, the following are the symptoms of PTSD:
Symptoms of intrusive memories may include:
Symptoms of avoidance and emotional numbing may include:
Symptoms of anxiety and increased emotional arousal may include:
From Mayoclinic.com.
After I received the text that ended my marriage, I experienced many of these symptoms. I had the flashbacks and the dreams. I had trouble thinking and remembering. I couldn’t sleep and I frightened easily. But, most of all I trembled constantly, my autonomic nervous system was on high alert, waiting for the next assault.
At first, the triggers were everywhere. Driving along the road that passed by my old house felt like traversing a field with buried landmines. I fully expected an explosion at any moment. I responded as though every mention of his name was literally a threat to my life. At any moment, I could be catapulted back to instant where I received the text. It was as though the phone was always in my hand.
My psychiatrist that I saw that first year stopped short of a full PTSD diagnosis, but she mentioned the disorder and selected medications that are used to treat it. I honestly don’t think I would have made it through without the medications. They allowed me to sleep and eat – two things I could not yet accomplish on my own.
Over time, the triggers decreased. I learned how to sleep and eat without assistance. I stopped the medications and was able to use meditation and exercise to reduce any symptoms. I can still feel the shadows of the trauma when I feel like I’m being abandoned again but, for the most part, my mind and body no longer confuse real and perceived threats.
After my divorce, I learned that most people assumed that depression would be the disorder de jour after a break up. They expected me to be sad and withdrawn. Instead, I was hyperalert, shaking and always on the lookout for the next blow. It’s important to realize that all divorces are not the same and we all respond differently. There is no ‘right’ way to be after a divorce. The labels can be helpful but even they only tell part of the story. Be gentle and understanding with yourself and others. Seek the help you need and know that it does get better.
I wrote more about PTSD after divorce on The Huffington Post.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 