Signs It’s Time to Make a Change

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Change is hard.

And so, like with many things that are hard, we often do our best to avoid it.

Sometimes, we are left with no choice. After all, when the house is on fire, there’s nothing to do but run out out the door.

But instead, if that house is just a little too confining or the wrong layout or misplaced for our needs, we’ll engage in all sorts of mental gymnastics to avoid making a change.

And of course, this doesn’t just apply to homes. It’s true when it comes to careers, to appearances, to habits and to relationships. When we’re not quite content, but there is a lack of an urgent need to change course, we’re in a state of limbo.

 

“I’m fine where I am,” you say.

“I don’t feel at peace with myself,” you think.

“I’ve been doing this for years, why change now?” you say.

“If I don’t make a change now, I never will,” you think.

“At least this is a known entity. The alternatives could be worse,” you say.

“But I won’t know unless I try,” you think.

“I could fail,” you say.

“I am stagnating,” you think.

There are no clear and consistent signs that deciding to make a change is the right choice.

Yet there are four indications that the challenge of change is preferable to the temporary comfort of staying put:

 

There Are No More Variables Left to Change in the Current Situation

I am going to continue with the house analogy here, because it make this easy to understand. If you’re unhappy with your home, it makes sense to first paint the walls and install a new area rug. If that doesn’t improve your feelings towards the house, maybe next you invest in a more substantial remodel. Yet at some point, if you’ve addressed all of the logical variables that can be modified and you’re still not satisfied, it’s time to move on.

 

Staying With the Status Quo Has Begun to Feel Like a Grind

There are always times in life when we have to put our heads down and simply push through to get through. Yet all of life shouldn’t feel like mile 60 in a 100-mile race. We are creatures of inertia; we’re very good at doing what we’ve done and less skilled at changing direction. Yet maybe that is exactly what needs to happen if the groove carved by trudging the same path feels like you’re digging your own grave.

 

You Approach the Thought of Change With Both Excitement and Fear

Not only is change hard, it is scary. It requires a leap of faith as you leave behind the implied security of the known terrain. It asks you to meet new challenges before you’ve proven yourself. Yet at the same time, change can be exciting, as all new and interesting things are. When fear and excitement are playing a fairly-matched game of tug-of-war in your mind, it’s a solid indication that you’re going the right way.

 

There is a Feeling of Lightness When You Make a Move Towards Change

When we’re in the wrong situation, it weighs on us. Pulls us down. If you make a decision towards change and feel relief (even if you’re still having doubts), that’s quite telling.

 

Change may be hard, but that’s no reason to avoid it.

After all, everything worthwhile in life takes effort.

Make sure your efforts are aligned with your goals.

Is the Time Spent In a “Failed” Married Wasted?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
failed

When my math students first start to tackle more difficult algebra problems, they retain their elementary focus on determining the single correct answer. While this difficult work is still relatively new to them, they have a tendency to completely erase or even tear up an entire page of work that led to this incorrect value of “x.”

One of my goals during this time is to help the students focus on the process. Once they recreate the steps that led to the wrong answer that made them quit in frustration, I’m able to show them that, more often than not, they completed every step correctly with one simple mistake that led to the wrong answer. I point out the correct reasoning that I see in their work and also highlight the errors that led them astray.

They learn that it’s not only about the end goal; it’s also about the process. And by analyzing their work that led them to the wrong answer, they learn how to recreate what they did well and how to avoid the mistakes.

I see marriage as much the same.

It’s easy to see a “failed” end as a sign that all the years invested were wasted. It’s easy to get frustrated and to want to erase all of the memories or tear it up in anger. It’s easy to focus on the mistakes and neglect to see all of things that went right.

Is the Time Spent in a “Failed” Marriage Wasted?

“I’ve wasted half my life,” I wailed to my friend from my spot curled up against the doorframe on her checkered kitchen floor.

She turned from loading the dishwasher, “Don’t ever say that. Nothing is ever a waste.”

At that time, I certainly didn’t agree with her. After all, I had just realized that some or all of the past sixteen years had been a lie. I learned that the man I pledged my life to had been manipulating and conning me. I was in the process of losing everything I worked so hard for – from the house to the savings to even the dogs.

I felt defeated.

It was not unlike spending money and time anticipating a lavish vacation only to come down with the stomach flu upon arrival. Only this vacation spanned the better part of two decades and wiped out more than just my appetite.

I wondered how I would ever come to terms with squandering sixteen years. After all, I could rebuild my finances, find a new home and even a new husband, but time was one thing I could never get back.

I was angry at myself for what I viewed as a bad investment.

I gave most of my teenage years and all of my twenties to this man.

Years that now felt wasted. Opportunities passed by and paths never taken.

I felt like I had been led blindly down a dead-end road. A worthless journey to nowhere. And it was an expensive trip.

I grew angry, blaming him for stealing my years. My youth. My potential.

I was angry at him. But even more, I was angry at myself for investing my time and energy into a relationship that didn’t survive. I felt stupid as I thought back to the decisions that I had made with the assumption that he would remain my husband. Decisions that I had been at peace with became regrettable as soon as soon as the marriage ended.

Thinking back to the Choose Your Own Adventure books of my youth, I wished that I could somehow go back and do things differently. Remake those decisions for meand not for the sake of compromise or for the marriage.

But as far as I know, time travel is an impossibility. And I realized that by ruminating on what I could have, should have done differently in the past, I was wasting my days in the present.

I had to begin by forgiving myself for making the choices I did with the information that I had at the time. It may have been a bad investment, but at least it was made in good faith.

I reframed the “bad investment” as a nonrefundable deposit.

The time was spent and could not be unspent. Instead of viewing it as an unwise investment in a failing endeavor, I decided to define it as a deposit on a better life.

Since the price was steep, it was up to me to make sure that the deposit wasn’t wasted. And so I got busy building the best life I could possibly create.

I started by addressing all of those assumptions I had reached about myself over the years, all of those things I grew convinced that I could not do. Additionally, I considered all of the feats I had always wanted to do, but never seemed to make time for. And one by one, I crossed them off the list. With each new adventure, I focused less on the time “wasted” and more on the challenges met.

Next, I tackled the gaslighting, the false words my ex-husband spoke about me. And as part of finding my truth again, I worked to refute each negative claim in kind. Not through words, but through actions. In doing so, I started to break free from the emotional abuse and come back to myself.

I found love again and, even though the journey back to trust was a rough one, I am beyond grateful that my serpentine path led me to this place.

And finally, I sought ways to use the experience to help others. To transform the negative into a positive. And with each person I reached, the time invested became a worthwhile contribution.

Each of these endeavors reduced the resentment for the price I paid and replaced it with gratitude that I had the opportunity to live a better life.

I remembered and appreciated the good times.

When my resentment for the time invested in my first marriage was at its worst, I was focusing on the horrific end to the relationship and the financial and emotional fallout. It was no wonder then that the time felt wasted – I was basically seeing the exchange as sixteen years of my life traded in for $80,000 of my ex’s debt, an inevitable foreclosure, having to rehome three dogs and months of medication to function. It’s not a trade I would recommend to anyone.

But that analysis wasn’t really accurate. Because the marriage was more than just its ending. As I started to allow myself to remember the good times we shared, I no longer felt so cheated out of those years.

In fact, whenever the feeling of bitterness over the trajectory of my life would rise to the surface, I would tamp it back down with good memories of the past and gratitude for the opportunity to live through it.

I vowed to learn from the time spent in the relationship.

When I started dating again, I defined a “successful” date as one in which I learned something – about the man, about myself or about life in general. By that metric, every single date (even if I was stood up!) was a success.

And that’s how I decided to frame the years in my marriage as well. In those sixteen years I shared with my ex (reframed from my initial response that I “gave” him those years), I learned everything from how to be an adult to how to veneer MDF. And I took all of those lessons with me.

Those years spent in a “failed” marriage are simply a part of my story.

Because nothing is ever wasted if we enjoyed it in the moment.

Nothing is ever wasted if we learn and grow from the experience.

And nothing is wasted because it helps shape who we are today.

To see those years as wasted was really a reflection of how I saw myself after the piercing pain of rejection.

But those years weren’t worthless and neither was I.

Those moments may not have been deposited into the life I expected, but they turned out to be an investment into an even better future.

Choosing to see those years as anything-but-wasted was a gift of forgiveness to myself. I made the best choices I could have at the time. And now I know better and I choose better.

And I choose to make sure to live a life that I will never feel is wasted.

Wondering why I choose to put “failed” in quotes? It’s because I don’t see divorce as a failure. Learn why.

Turning Back the Clocks

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My social media feeds this morning have been filled with various iterations of the following:

IMG_1074

The meme made me think. If I could turn back the clock to twenty, would I want to?

My immediate (and powerful) reaction was hell, no.

I had a specific image of twenty come to mind. I was in the living room of the apartment that I shared with my now-ex. The generous space was only furnished with a cheap couch from Montgomery Ward and a large, black, hand-me-down trunk that was serving as a television stand. It was shabby and yet I had such pride in the space because it was mine.

It was a Sunday, and so I was home just after 6:00 pm from my job as the manager of a tanning salon. I was grabbing a quick bite to eat before tackling an assignment for one of my classes (which was always frustrating because this professor used an online platform for submission and our dial-up internet often wasn’t up to the task).

While eating, my then-boyfriend came through the door. As always when he returned from his work at Sea World, our pug pressed her nose into every inch of his uniform, inhaling the delicious (to her) smells of sweat, oil and fish. He soon stripped off his uniform and headed to the shower while I headed to the home office to begin my assignment.

We were in limbo that year. His job offered no opportunity for advanced, he found the work un-stimulating and the wages were not sufficient to provide for any real future. He didn’t have much direction, but knew that we would most likely have to leave San Antonio in order for him to secure something better in his field.

Meanwhile, I had already given up on my first degree choice and was weighing options for a second choice while I completed the basic requirements. I hesitated to make any firm decisions, waiting instead to see where his job would take us.

Yes, in some ways life was easier then. Having little in terms of income or possessions meant there was little to lose. I had the certainty only found in the young that my boyfriend would always be by my side. I was drifting, but also not too worried about it because time seemed to stretch out in front of me like an endless Texas highway.

But I still wouldn’t want to go back.

Because I am grateful for every experience I’ve since then, either because I enjoyed it in the moment or because that event imbued me with wisdom and perspective. And even though I would love to have the smooth skin of twenty again or the ability to recover easily from a late night, I would much rather have the more wrinkled and tired version of myself that I am now. Because this is the person that my twenty-year-old self was waiting to find.

How about you? Would you want to turn back the clock? If so, to what age?

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When people contact me early in their divorce experience, the edges still rough and the emotions raw, I often find myself saying, “It’s early still. Give it some time.” It’s counsel I hate to give because it suggests that the pain has to be endured before it can be erased. Yet it’s also truth; there are some parts of healing that can only be addressed through the passage of time.

Time is a critical component of healing from loss. Yet it is no panacea, containing all of the answers.

What time does…

Time Softens I like to think of time as flowing like a river. When you first experience loss, it is a rough and jagged stone, thrust suddenly into the stream. At first, the river is diverted, pausing as it navigates this alien and unwanted intruder. In time, the river wears away at the rock, softening its edges and incorporating it into its topography. The loss is still there, but the serrated edges that sawed through your heart are worn into a blunt edge that provides a constant, yet bearable, pressure.

Time Muddies Memories At first, memories come in great waves, slamming into your gut without notice and stealing your breath away. The images play across your brain in high definition and the current reality pushes in with its ugly disparity. As the calendar advances, these memories lose some of their clarity, the details fading like linen left in the sun.

Time Permits Acclimation When you first experience loss, it’s like the gaping hole left behind by a missing tooth. It demands your attention. You worry at it. Obsess about it. Over a period of weeks and months, the shock and novelty fade. The need to talk about your situation will become less pressing and your mind will begin to make space for other things again.

Time Provides Experience The first time through any difficult experience is always the hardest, as the coping mechanisms and strategies have yet to be developed and you are not sure what to expect. Time gives you ample opportunity to practice breaking down and making it through. Each time you feel the pain, you get a little better at being with it and moving through it.

Time Allows For Opportunity Time supplies you with opportunities to implement the modalities that help with healing – counseling, journaling, mindfulness, movement. All of those strategies require time and repetition in order to be effective. Time also allows for new experiences, reminders that even though you’ve experienced loss, you’re still living and there are smiles to be found amongst the tears. Those moments of respite give you hope that things can be better.

 

What time does not…

Time Doesn’t Mean You Forget You will never forget. Time does not erase all memories, delete all pain. It’s still there, but there is also space for you to live alongside of it.

Provide Automatic Processing Time doesn’t do the healing. You do. If all you do is wait, you’ll feel much the same, only with more wrinkles. Time simply gives you the space and opportunity to work through it.

Time Doesn’t Provide Understanding Time won’t answer the “why” question for you. It won’t reveal why life is harder for some of us than others and why bad things can happen to good people. What time does give you is some perspective that suggests that maybe understanding why isn’t really that important.

 

Time may not heal all wounds, but it helps to cushion you from the emotional wound, becoming a sort of insulating layer. And with that distance, you have to space to breathe, to process and to live again.

 

 

Is the Time Spent In a “Failed” Married Wasted?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
failed

When my math students first start to tackle more difficult algebra problems, they retain their elementary focus on determining the single correct answer. While this difficult work is still relatively new to them, they have a tendency to completely erase or even tear up an entire page of work that led to this incorrect value of “x.”

One of my goals during this time is to help the students focus on the process. Once they recreate the steps that led to the wrong answer that made them quit in frustration, I’m able to show them that, more often than not, they completed every step correctly with one simple mistake that led to the wrong answer. I point out the correct reasoning that I see in their work and also highlight the errors that led them astray.

They learn that it’s not only about the end goal; it’s also about the process. And by analyzing their work that led them to the wrong answer, they learn how to recreate what they did well and how to avoid the mistakes.

I see marriage as much the same.

It’s easy to see a “failed” end as a sign that all the years invested were wasted. It’s easy to get frustrated and to want to erase all of the memories or tear it up in anger. It’s easy to focus on the mistakes and neglect to see all of things that went right.

 

Here’s how I learned how to reframe the sixteen years spent in my failed marriage as a lesson rather than a waste.