So, I guess ending a relationship via text is now an acceptable thing. At least that’s what this article from Psychology Today seems to suggest. The piece calls ending it via text “tacky,” yet seems to feel that is a justifiable way for the man (is this always done by men?) to initiate a break-up.
I just can’t agree. Now, granted, I’m not an objective observer of this particular phenomenon. After all, my ex ended a 16 year relationship with a text without any follow-up at all. It left me angry. Helpless. Filled with questions and impotence. My innocuous phone dispensed with my marriage with nothing more than a chime sounded in warning.
And, from the recipient’s standpoint, I cannot endorse this approach. A text is for information. Flirting. Maybe a slight disagreement.
But to end a relationship of any significance?
Would you quit a career via text? Propose via text? Announce a poor medical diagnosis unexpectedly via text?
So, ending a marriage or engagement?
A side note here. I was on the Frank Love radio show last year and he agreed with my ex’s approach. I could tell I was healed when I found it funny rather than offensive:)
There are some things, no matter how uncomfortable, that simply deserve actually confronting the truth and the person it may hurt, no matter how difficult.
I did like the part in the article about deception and the difficulty the deceiver has facing the collateral damage of his or her choices. It seems some people would rather run away than face the consequences.
Unfortunately, that always leaves someone else to clean up after his or her mess.
Sorry for the rant, this just fires me up. Maybe I should create a public service announcement:)
The story of this missing plane just keeps getting stranger. It’s interesting to me to watch how surprised people are that we do not yet have answers. How shocked people are that it remains a mystery even in the face of technology and manpower. We like to read mysteries, not live them. We crave the information that can fit the pieces of the puzzle.
I caught part of an interview yesterday with the wife of one of the passengers. I ached for her. She is caught in limbo, understanding that most likely, she will never see her husband again yet also lacking the concrete information that lets her begin to grieve.The questions, the mystery keep her anchored in maybe. And that’s a horrible place to live.
I know. I lived there myself for a few days. Yes, I had a text and a typed letter when my ex left, but I no information. What he left was worthless, gave no real answers. All I knew was that one moment, I had a husband who said he loved me and couldn’t wait for me to get home and the next, I had a brief electronic communication saying he was gone. Disappeared.
For the first twenty-four hours, I had no information. I didn’t know if he was alive or if the letter was really a suicide note. My mind raced, trying on different scenarios for fit. In some, in walked back in the door and explained it was all a mistake. In others, his body was found in a motel. I couldn’t rest. I needed to know.
As with most mysteries, information dribbled in. I learned that all the money was gone. I found proof of another woman. Then, I figured out what state he was in. That was the point where I first filed for divorce (less than a week after the text). The first go-round, the plan was to file by publication because his true location was still unknown.
And I was still restless. I knew some things, but I still didn’t understand why. And then I learned about Uganda and found some more answers. And then the bigamy, which answered some things and raised more. I was dogged. Determined. I needed to know. I searched for information with the same desperate urge as preteen reading the battle scene in the final Harry Potter. I could not stop turning pages even knowing that I may not like what I would learn.
In the end, that search provided the pieces that I fit into the puzzle years later. I still don’t know if I built it correctly. And I never really will. That search cost me, in terms of additional money spent for the divorce and in time spent playing Sherlock Holmes.
But, when I saw the face of that poor woman on TV last night, it’s a cost I’m glad I spent.
If it was still a mystery, I would always be wondering.
At least now I know. And I can lay it to rest.
I hope that the families of the passengers on the missing place find answers soon so that then they can work on finding peace.
A few weeks ago, I was a guest on the Frank Relationship radio show. It was quite a fun show to do; I loved the dynamic between the host, Frank, the psychologist, Gail and myself. It was also I sign of how far I have come in my healing. When Frank stated that he didn’t see anything wrong with the way my husband left the marriage (via text), I didn’t take it personally. In fact, I found that it led to interesting dialog and led me to ask Frank a rather pointed question:)
Two questions I wish I would have posed: would you view this differently if there had been kids involved and would you feel the same with a business parter who embezzled from the company and then left as you would with a partner who just disappeared.
Oh well, missed opportunities:)
I’m old. My students remind me of that every day when they discuss current actors and musicians and I find myself asking, “Who?” As a result of my advanced age and general ignorance of pop culture, I have been largely unaware of Katy Perry. I know her for her bras – there was that one peppermint swirly thingy one and then something about one being too risqué for Sesame Street. I am sure that I would recognize some of her hits, yet I cannot name a single title. I could only pick her out of a lineup if she was wearing the above-mentioned peppermint (flavored?) bra.
So imagine my shock this morning when the headlines announced that Katy and I are twins in a way. It turns out that her ex husband, Russell Brand, dumped her via text as well and she has not heard from him since. Wow. Sometimes I really do wonder if there is some secret, black market how-to book out there that these people follow (Slimeball For Dummies?).
It’s weird. I never expected to feel a kinship with Katie. After all, she’s 7 years my junior, can sing and has cleavage.
But upon reading that story this morning, I now feel a bond with Katy. I can imagine the shock she felt as she innocently picked up her phone upon the tone that announced an incoming text and read the words from her husband that indicated the end. I can picture her hand trembling as she read and reread the message, trying to gain some understanding of the incomprehensible. I can imagine the panicked thoughts and perhaps messages as she tried to reach out to him and assure herself that it was just some terrible misunderstanding. I can empathize with the growing horror she may have felt as the minutes, hours and then days passed with no further contact. I can sympathize with the anger that seeped in as she realizes that he stole her voice when he chose to exit without allowing for the dignity of a conversation. I can imagine the difficulties she may have finding closure from a marriage that ended in a tsunami.
So, Katy, here’s a great big internet hug for you. I am sorry that I don’t know you as an artist but I now feel like I know you as a woman.