http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-arends/tsunami-divorce_b_1571092.html
Extend a Hand
In those first few days and weeks of sudden singlehood, I was angry. I wanted to curse his name in a thousand languages, yet I knew only one. I wanted to create effigies of him and burn them, but our county had posted a burn ban that summer. I wanted to use his mug shot for target practice, but I owned no range weapons.
I realized soon enough that this mindset would not help me in the long run. I turned to the internet, looking for inspiration from people who had been there. Guides through the hellish journey of the end of a marriage.
I was disappointed in what I found. The vast majority of sites were populated with people who were in the early stages. Filled with vitriol and anger, spewing forth their rage across the web. I get it. You cannot heal until you release the pus that poisons the wound. But I wanted to hear from people who had started to scab over. I wanted to know what to expect when the scab fell off. Or how to keep it from becoming infected. Even better, I wanted to know what the scars of divorce would look like and how to help them fade.
What I found was that people stopped sharing, stopped talking, once their own journey was set and they were out of the overwhelming darkness and confusion that dominates the early stages. That is a shame, for there is much to be learned from those who have traveled the long road and know all its markers.
The most powerful image I have from Tough Mudder is the spontaneous creation of human chains, as people (strangers in most cases), who were just slightly further along on an obstacle, extended a hand to the person behind them. This linkage allowed all to successfully navigate an obstacle that would have been insurmountable alone.
Those of us who are just a little further along on our journey through divorce and trauma can help others by extending a hand.
Dulling the Knife’s Edge
When I first felt the raw, unwashed trauma of my divorce, I would direct anger and indignation towards anyone who blithely told me that time heals all wounds. How foolish they must be, I thought. They must have never been through any challenges. How could the mere rotation of a clock hand soften the shock and pain of being utterly betrayed from the inside out? I scoffed at the notion.
Luckily for me, time continued on, ignorant of my harsh view of it.
The changes were so subtle at first, I did not notice them. The improvement from one hour to the next too small to be measured. But it was there nonetheless.
As time continued its relentless linear path, my pain followed suit in an inverse relationship, although in a much more randomized pattern. I became accustomed to the things causing my discomfort, and so I was not as aware of them. The pain, once so alien, became familiar and no longer needed attention. Anniversaries came and went and I survived. I layered memories, replacing painful ones with fresher happier ones. The hardest times occurred with diminishing frequency and lessening intensity.
I still dismiss the notion that time will heal all wounds; time is no surgeon, ready to excise the malignant past. However, time does dull the knife’s edge of past traumas, lessening their ability to cause that searing pain, that sharp intake of breath when the blade pierces your heart. The pain becomes duller, more distant, more manageable. It’s as though its initial razor edge is dulled by time dragging it through the rocks lining the river of life, new experiences whittling away the once-sharp edge.
While waiting for the blade of your trauma to dull, carry lots of bandages and always be wary of the edge.
Extend a Hand
In those first few days and weeks of sudden singlehood, I was angry. I wanted to curse his name in a thousand languages, yet I knew only one. I wanted to create effigies of him and burn them, but our county had posted a burn ban that summer. I wanted to use his mug shot for target practice, but I owned no range weapons.
I realized soon enough that this mindset would not help me in the long run. I turned to the internet, looking for inspiration from people who had been there. Guides through the hellish journey of the end of a marriage.
I was disappointed in what I found. The vast majority of sites were populated with people who were in the early stages. Filled with vitriol and anger, spewing forth their rage across the web. I get it. You cannot heal until you release the pus that poisons the wound. But I wanted to hear from people who had started to scab over. I wanted to know what to expect when the scab fell off. Or how to keep it from becoming infected. Even better, I wanted to know what the scars of divorce would look like and how to help them fade.
What I found was that people stopped sharing, stopped talking, once their own journey was set and they were out of the overwhelming darkness and confusion that dominates the early stages. That is a shame, for there is much to be learned from those who have traveled the long road and know all its markers.
The most powerful images I have from Tough Mudder is the spontaneous creation of human chains, as people (strangers in most cases), who were just slightly further along on an obstacle, extended a hand to the person behind them. This linkage allowed all to successfully navigate an obstacle that would have been insurmountable alone.
Those of us who are just a little further along on our journey through divorce and trauma can help others by extending a hand.
Mental Rehearsal vs. Expectations
What is the difference between mental rehearsal of an event and creating expectations for the event?
There has been quite a bit of research and discourse in the last few years about the nature and benefits of mental rehearsal for athletes and others in positions that require a demanding and skilled physical performance. They are trained to visualized their body working efficiently, picture themselves executing each move perfectly, and feel their mind and body in perfect harmony.
These visualization techniques have since been applied to other areas, demonstrating that mental rehearsal can be a powerful tool for success. Cancer patients picture their T-cells squashing the invading cancer. Surgeons mentally rehearse each step of a complicated procedure countless times before even touching the scalpel. Public speakers view themselves giving their presentation, calm and confident.
For those undergoing a major life transition, visualization can help to calm anxiety and provide hope for the future. You can mentally rehearse for your time in court, visualize yourself becoming whole and happy, see yourself in a new relationship. All of this mental energy can help you on your path to healing.
In all cases, the most important aspect of visualization as a technique to improve performance or outcomes, is that is effectiveness depends upon one’s ability to be self-aware and monitor one’s responses to stimuli.
It is important to note, that in all of these examples, the strategy of mental rehearsal focuses on the individual’s performance, not the behaviors of those around him or her. That is the primary distinction between mental rehearsal and expectations; the former depends upon actions that are largely under your control, whereas the latter is subject to the behaviors of others not under your jurisdiction.
It is all too easy to spend our mental energies building expectations. This strategy will only lead to disappointment; however, as others can never live up to their fantasy counterparts. Many times, our happiest moments are those that caught us unaware, before any expectations had a chance to take root.
Choose where you want to spend your mental energy: building expectations that can be dashed by others or rehearsing you being the best you possible. I know where I try to focus my energies; in fact, I am seeing myself running an effortless ten miler this morning even though it’s frigid outside. Now, let’s see if that image holds once I get that first blast of wind!
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 