Growing Apart in Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b
growing apart

We were inseparable for the better part of ten years.

We met at the age of four at a Mother’s Day Out group at our church. I remember being drawn to her pigtails, her white-blond cornsilk hair reminded me of one of my dolls and stood in contrast to my much wilder and darker mane. By the time we were in first grade, we had graduated to official “best friend” status, proudly advertised on our silver James Avery half-heart charms worn on matching chains around our necks.

We did everything together. Completed each other’s sentences and knew the other’s every wish. The other kids seemed to understand that we were a package deal – make one friend and get another one free. Our friendship navigated the transition to middle school where afternoons spent catching toads were replaced with evenings endlessly dissecting interactions with the boys. Even as we took our first shaky steps into relationships with the opposite sex, we would always return to each other to seek advice and approval.

But then high school happened and those small differences that has always existed between us were suddenly magnified. My preference for Metallica drew me towards an older crowd and her love of the stage pulled her into theater. Our classes, which had rarely ever been together, were suddenly on opposite halls and our lockers were assigned in different buildings. Over the span of a semester, we went from being inseparable to being casual friends who largely moved in separate circles.

There was some sadness. I would see her under the lights on stage, those cornsilk pigtails now released into a shining wave down her back, and remember how familiar she once was to me. There were moments when I would see her name in its first-place position on my speed dial and would mourn for the connection that we shared.

Yet even with the pinch of grief that would tag along with my memories, I understood that this transition was natural.

We had simply grown apart.

Our interests, our goals and eventually, our experiences, meant that we no longer occupied the same space. And even though it was sad, it was okay. We each had our own path to take and we could remember with fondness those years when our paths converged.

Why is it that we treat marriage so differently than other relationships? We acknowledge that friendships grow and recede, changing over time, yet we fear our marriages being anything but static, constant. When we sense that our partners are growing away from us and we catch a glimpse of diverging paths, we respond with panic or a quiet denial instead of acceptance.

We accuse them of no longer being the person that we married, beg them to stay the same as they were. We project our own discomfort with change onto their shoulders, penalizing them for wanting to change direction.

It’s sad when two people who were once so compatible begin to grow in opposite directions. It’s painful to be presented with the choice of following your heart and moving in a new direction or silencing your heart in order to preserve a relationship. You may secretly crave a reason to end the relationship, struggling to acknowledge that it has outlived its usefulness when there is nothing identifiably wrong with it.

You fear breaking hearts, yet your heart is breaking every time you feel like you have to make a choice between your partner and your purpose.

There are no easy choices when a couple has grown apart. Choose to stay and you and your partner risk feeling diminished and stifled. Attempt to renegotiate the marriage and you may find that the terms are not agreeable or that they are not sufficient to mitigate the growing distance. Walk away and you invite loneliness and regret even as you move towards your light.

This is not to say that marriage should be discarded as easily as a shirt once fashion changes. There is a commitment. A promise. Ideally, core values and goals are still in alignment and individual growth can occur within the supportive structure of the marriage.

But that is not always possible. The couple that met through faith and always held religion as the cornerstone of their union will be rocked if one partner disavows their church. Or, if two people came together with the express wish of starting a family and one later decides to remain childless, the bedrock has been fractured. You can fight the situation, but your protests will only go so far.

I often learn about acceptance through nature. My backyard is comprised of a small oval of grass surrounded by trees and shrubs. Most of them happily grow together towards the sun, leaning against each other for support and generously sharing the sunnier spaces. Or, they renegotiate, sharing the same soil yet bending their stems in different directions in order to both have their needs met.

Some become bullies, so concerned about their own needs that they shade out those around them. Others allow themselves to be shaded, giving up their own potential for growth with barely a whimper. I rarely intervene, but when I see a plant failing to reach its potential because of its location, I feel obligated to step in and either move the limbs that are blocking the light or replant the stifled one in a more favorable location. I don’t brand this intervention as “failure,” it doesn’t indicate a problem with the individual plantings. It’s simply something that needs to happen for growth to continue.

Yet marriage is more important than a bunch of flowers looking for their own stream of sunlight. We build lives together, share dreams and fears as we layer years of shared experiences. There is a vision of a shared future, moving forward along the same trajectory that was envisioned from the beginning.

And yet…

Change is inevitable. And sometimes endings are as well. There are times when the kindest action is to honor when your paths converged and allow them to continue along their own course.

 

Taking the Long View

Posted on by stilllearning2b
long view divorce debt

Yesterday was a big day for me.

After two decades of carrying the burden, I finally paid off the last of my student loans.

I have to say, I was a little disappointed in Discover’s response to the zero balance. I wasn’t expecting anything too major, maybe just some balloons dropping down from the ceiling, applause coming through the speakers on my computer and a moderately-sized parade in front of the house. As it was, I had to make do with a sentence sandwiched between the ads for a credit card and a personal loan: “Congratulations. The balance on your student loan account is now zero.”

It’s been a long journey getting to this point. Much longer than planned-for or anticipated.

Life is funny that way.

And in so many ways, this slog back to financial health mirrored the emotional healing from divorce.

I don’t know what my credit score was on the day my world exploded. I refused to look. The last time I had checked, it was just above the 800 mark. But that was before my then-husband maxed out my credit cards, stopped paying my student loans and took out additional credit lines in my name.

I considered bankruptcy. The financial counseling session that I was required to complete as part of the pre-qualitification for the process left such a sour taste in my mouth. The advisor kept questioning my claims about my budget, unable to understand how I ended up in such a mess with a relatively frugal spending pattern. No matter how many times I explained what my husband had done, she didn’t seem to get it.

She blamed me. And I blamed me too.

Not for spending the money, but for being so stupid as to allow it happen without my notice.

So I hung up and took out a pad of paper to work out how I could pay back the money on my teacher salary without resorting to filing for bankruptcy.

I had to be strategic, although I wanted nothing more than for all of those debts to be instantly reduced to zero (and for my checking account to rise above sea level since he had left me with a negative balance). Silently, I yearned for my credit score to again be solid, instead of the shamefully low number that I knew I carried as a virtual scarlet letter, branding me as someone who didn’t have it together.

Over the next five years, I slowly and steadily paid off his parting gifts – a sum total of $80,000, if you include the legal fees that he was ordered to pay and never did. Three years after he left, I finally summoned the nerve to check my credit score. It wasn’t good, but I knew it was better than it had been.

I understood that this wasn’t a quick fix. It may have been destroyed in an instant, but rebuilding was a long game.

But even then, with the bulk of the debt resolved, it wasn’t over. The foreclosure (yet another gift from my ex and a legal system ill equipped to deal with manipulators), still pulled down my credit score, an anchor to the past. And the student loans, which were supposed to be paid off (according to the financial plan I had with my then-husband) in 2012, had instead been relegated to minimum payments in order to focus on the accounts with higher interest rates first.

Last year, the foreclosure dropped off my record, instantly catapulting my credit score almost 70 points. And then yesterday, I wiped out the student loans, which should bring me back up to my starting place of just over 800.

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It’s taken 9 years and 51 days to get here (But who’s counting?). There were certainly improvements along the way, some major and some so small that they were barely noticeable. But until yesterday, I didn’t feel as though it was “done.”

And that’s how the emotional work felt as well. I wanted it to be resolved quickly. I told myself that once the legal process was over, I would refrain from looking back.

Yet just as the foreclosure pulled down my credit score, the divorce still weighed down my heart.

It was a long, slow climb back to emotional health and stability. Some days brought great improvement. Most heralded imperceptible improvements. And still others sent me tumbling backwards, leaving me bruised and fearful that I would never make the climb.

Yet, at some point, it happened. Unlike with the financial health, I don’t have a single event that I can point to where I was informed, “Congratulations. The balance on your emotional trauma has now reached zero.” But I can look back at my writing and see a difference. In 2016, there were still posts where I was struggling with trust and abandonment and vulnerability. In 2017, those are absent. And that continues. That doesn’t mean that life is always easy, but it does indicate that I am no longer responding to the events from the past.

Healing from anything requires taking the long view. It demands patience and persistence, especially in those times when progress feels sluggish and uncertain.

Keep at it. One day you’ll be able to look back and realize that it’s no longer a reality, simply a memory.

The (Unspoken) Truth About Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When asked about the state of their union, people often feel like they have to defer to one of two responses:

“It’s all good,” or, “It’s over.”

Yet the reality is that most marriages spend much of their time between these two extremes. Where some things are good, some areas are taut with tension and loving thoughts are interspersed with feelings of frustration or even disengagement. And by neglecting to talk about the reality of marriage, we leave those in completely-normal-and-not-always-ideal marriages feeling unsure and isolated.

 

Even the best marriages have bad days.

Or weeks. Even months. Whether from external pressures or changes prompted by internal struggles, there will be times when things are not good. There may be spans of silence, a lingering sense of tension in the air after a difficult conversation or nights spent lonely in separate beds.

When these bad days occur, it can be easy to catastrophize. To assume that a bad day indicates a bad marriage and that this is a sign that the end is near. One partner may be more prone towards panicking, attempting to grasp on in a desperate attempt to stop the imagined slide downhill. This often has the opposite effect, as the one who is latched upon feels increasingly trapped and becomes desperate for escape.

Some bad days pass on their own, especially if their cause is largely centered outside the marriage. Others are a cry for help, a sign that the marriage needs some attention and perhaps modification. And others are just part of the natural ebb and flow of life, expansion followed by contraction. This is one of the reasons that the first year of marriage is often deemed to be one of the most challenging – it follows after the excitement of wedding planning and establishing the relationship. The day-to-day of normal marriage simply can’t live up to that level of expectation.

 

Even the closest couples need time apart.

In the beginning of a relationship, the excitement and novelty leave you counting the minutes until you can be with your newfound love again. It seems impossible that there will ever be a day where you look forward to a trip that takes them out of the home for a few days. But it will happen.

I hear whispered confessions from friends, deeming me a safe receptacle for their secrets, admit to feeling guilty when they let out a little cheer when their spouse pulls out the driveway for a few days of absence. “That’s totally normal,” I reassure them and the relief is palpable.

Too much of anything – or anyone – can easily become too much. With overexposure, appreciation is easily replaced by irritation and small problems begin to accumulate. I like to relate it to ice cream. The stuff is amazing. You maybe even want some every day. But if you have a gallon of it in one sitting, your body is going to rebel. That doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you or the refreshing treat; it simply means that you need a break before you can enjoy it again.

 

Even the most compatible couples can struggle to find connection.

When my now-husband and I were first dating, we lived across town from each other. And in the Atlanta metro area, that’s quite the commute. Since we couldn’t see each other more than once or twice a week, we would spend evenings on the phone, chattering on about anything and everything.

It was easy to find things to talk about – not only did we live our days in largely separate worlds, we were still in the process of learning about the other person. Now, eight years later and sharing the same bedroom on most nights, we can go days without a meaningful conversation. The reasons are multifold. Our lives are more overlapping so there is less to share about the day-to-day. At this point, we’ve divulged and discussed our pasts, our passions and our perspectives and since we’re not yet old enough to be forgetful, there simply isn’t a need to cover the same material again. And we’re busy. The activities that were pushed to the side in those early months of the relationship have again found their place, leaving us with little time to connect during an average week.

As a result, there are times when we can feel disconnected. Like we’re crawling in bed with a virtual stranger, who both knows everything about us and yet we have nothing to talk about. And then, we carve out some time to do something new together, even if it’s as simple as dinner at an untried restaurant. The new environment inevitably sends a current through the relationship, reigniting the spark of connection.

 

Even the most agreeable people will have differences of opinion. 

I love my husband, but there are times I think he must be a visitor from another planet. After all, surely no reasonable adult human could actually think that??? In my first marriage, I let those differences of opinion bother me. I would either take it personally (seeing an attack on my viewpoint as an attack on me), allow my mind to be changed or feel threatened by the disparate stances.

It no longer bothers me so much (Unless it’s about school; I get pretty sensitive when people who are not in the academic sphere try to tell me about modern-day school issues.) when we have opposing viewpoints. In fact, I’m more likely to find it interesting (Why do you think that way?) or humorous than threatening. I have learned that it is possible to both love and support someone even while disagreeing with them.

There are some things that are so important that dissent is a sign of trouble, but for most everything else, a difference of opinion is simply a sign that you are two different people. And that’s a good thing.

 

Even the strongest marriages have periods of renegotiation and transition.

There is an immense about of negotiation and compromise that occurs when a relationship first becomes serious. The amount of togetherness is determined, acceptable interactions with the opposite sex are established and relationship patterns are initiated. That period is widely accepted as a precarious one. Some relationships emerge on the other side, stronger and established, while others fail to effectively negotiate a path.

What is less discussed are the inevitable transitions that occur throughout a marriage. As children come and go, job responsibilities shift and health crises seemingly come out of nowhere, the established roles and routines may longer be appropriate. And because we’re creatures of habit and we universally fear loss, these renegotiations are often even more difficult than the initial shift into commitment.

These times of transition are stressful and we often struggle to find the words to describe them adequately. We are uncomfortable with change and with making space for the unknown, especially when our most intimate relationship is threatened. Yet those same uncertain times that scare us also provide us with the most opportunity for growth.

 

Even the most reasonable parters will sometime respond irrationally. 

I am normally a very rational, even analytical, woman. Unless I’m poised at the top of a hill. At which point, I turn into a blubbering child. My husband knows this about me, and so he lovingly becomes extra-patient with me in those moments. My thoughts on a hilltop are not rational, but they are real. At least to me and in that moment.

Most people aren’t as afraid of downhills as I am (thank goodness, or whole industries would be wiped out), but we all have our particular triggers that cause us to behave irrationally and emotionally. And when you’re married to that overreacting person, it’s hard to suppress the urge to declare, “Just what in the hell is wrong with you?” and to respond instead with a combination of compassion and encouragement.

And here’s the hard part – unless we share the same emotional triggers as someone else, it is difficult (if not impossible) to understand where that person is coming from. And when that person is your spouse, that is a frustrating pill to swallow.

 

Even the most loving unions will have times where love is dormant. 

Love is more about action than feeling. There will be times when you don’t feel an overwhelming sense of love or affection for your partner. Some days, irritation and annoyance speak so loudly that they drown out the soft utterances of fondness. The love isn’t gone, but it’s quiet.

It’s important how couples respond to each other in these difficult times. There can be respect even without understanding. Kindness even in the absence of fondness. Tolerance when cooperation is lacking. And above all, a willingness to listen for the sleeping love and the patience to wait for it to stir once again.

 

Related:

Why I Don’t Want a Perfect Marriage

A Growth Mindset in Marriage

A Facebook Marriage: Keep the Smile On Or Else

 

 

 

Love Testing

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Love testing.

It’s one of the reasons that teenagers are difficult to deal with. Before they take the leap out into the adult world, they want the security that comes from knowing that you love them unconditionally. Your words and prior actions are often not sufficient for these temperamental creatures. They want reassurances. They want proof.

Operating below the level of full consciousness, they engage in behaviors and make decisions that they know you disapprove of. They often fail to hide these choices and they may even flaunt them. Of course, some of this is fueled by the teenager’s desire for exploration and their lack of a developed prefrontal cortex.

But that’s not the only motivator.

These undesirable actions are often driven by the teenager’s search for the answer to this question –

“Will you still love even if …”

 

And teenagers aren’t the only ones that engage in love testing. Adults, especially those that have been betrayed or abandoned, can utilize this strategy as well in romantic partnerships. Like the teenagers, these adults are seeking reassurances that the past will not repeated. They are testing the strength of the commitment by weighing it down with  ever-increasing challenges. They want security. Promises. Certainty.

And so they test. Maybe treating their partner with disrespect. Or flirting openly with another person. Or letting the weight begin to comfortably settle around the waist. Or continually breaking up only to pick back up again. Or spending just a little more than was agreed upon. Boundaries are nudged and the reactions observed.

Will you still love if…

There are problems with this approach. Partners are not parents. Their love does have its limits. At some point, the weight tied to the commitment will be too much to bear and their acceptance will be be withdrawn. And that point will inevitably be reached because    no matter how many love tests they’ve passed, until you trust in yourself and your ability to handle whatever may comes, it will never be enough to assuage your insecurity. And regardless of how many transgressions the love survives, there is no such thing as certainty in love.

That’s not to say that love should be welcomed without confirmation. The tests will come naturally over time as life presents you with challenges and obstacles. Take this opportunity to observe how they respond – Do they shut down or shut you out? Do they find refuge in the guise of victimhood and point fingers? Or do they see you as a team and work cooperatively towards resolution or acceptance?

Once we’ve been hurt, we will do anything to avoid being hurt again. But love doesn’t work that way.

As I’ve written before, 

Love is all or none.

If you try to hold it at a distance, you end up pushing it away.

If you attempt to control it, you will inevitably strangle it.

If you build walls and hang back out of a fear of being hurt, you are avoiding the very intimacy that is the foundation of a relationship.

If you punish your new partner for the sins of the old, you are wrapping the new in the cloak of the past.

If you assume that this partner will also hurt you, you are more likely to be hurt again. After all, the dog that you expect to bite often does.

Love is always a risk. Whether you’ve been hurt before or not.

It’s just that those of us who have felt the anguish of an end know exactly what it is we are risking.

And you may decide that it’s not for you. That you’re happier alone and don’t want the risk or the compromises again.

That’s okay. Life is not one size fits all. Tailor your life to your specifications.

But if you do decide you want to let love in, you have to be ready to embrace it. Risks and all.

That ten-foot pole may make you feel safer, but all it’s really doing is keeping love at arm’s length.

Love is all or none.

 

An Open Letter to Those Who Have Been Ghosted by a Partner

Posted on by stilllearning2b
ghosted

I see you.

I know that right now you’re feeling insignificant and discarded. I see you standing there in utter shock, struggling to process how everything changed in an instant. The “before” and “after” alternately body slamming you with the brutal reality. I see you because I was you.

I hear you.

I know that you’re frustrated that your voice, your very right to speak, has been taken from you. I hear your silent screams into the void, the endless question of “why” echoing through the fog. I hear your voice because it follows my own.

I understand you.

I know that you’re questioning everything, running every detail through your mind, worrying each strand of memory like a loose thread. I understand the doubts that are starting to creep in, that you’re wondering what clues you may have missed or even believing that you somehow deserved this on some level. I understand you because I was in that same place several years ago.

The pain and confusion you’re experiencing are totally normal reactions to such a complete and total blow and betrayal.

Being abruptly abandoned without explanation is one of the more painful experiences that life can deliver.

And the first thing you need to understand is that leaving in that manner is a reflection of your ex’s character. Not yours. Some may remind you that relationships take two. And this is true. Yet ending it on this jarring note was a decision made without your cooperation. You may experience judgement from others. Try to be patient with them as they truly don’t understand what it’s like. Even loved ones may seem to blame you. This is often because they cannot bear to imagine this happening to them and so they need to try to make some sense of why this happened to you.

Ghosting is cowardly. Instead of having the difficult conversations and potentially seeing you hurt, they chose to run and hide. That is not healthy adult behavior, especially with a relationship of significant depth and duration. It’s not fair to end a relationship this way. It robs you of any opportunity to ask questions, much less eliminates any chance you may have had to fight for the relationship.

After being ghosted, you are haunted by the unknowns. Those endless questions can drive you crazy. Again, I’ve been there and I took that ride for a time. You may get some answers. It could be that they were seeing someone on the side or that they had amassed secrets that they wanted to keep hidden. I know the temptation to hunt for information is strong; however, I encourage you to keep this urge on a leash. Too much obsession over the reasons for their actions will only serve to bring you more misery. They gave you important information about themselves by leaving this way. Ultimately, that matters more than any details.

Are you desperately looking for closure?

If you’re finding yourself stuck by not knowing what happened like an unfinished puzzle with a lost piece, use what you know to fill in the gaps. Craft a story from the facts you have and your knowledge of your ex. You may not get it right. But it doesn’t matter. Our minds fixate on what is missing. Once you fill in those holes, it gives the brain permission to rest. Here are some more ideas on how you can find closure without your ex’s cooperation.

Perhaps the most cruel part of being ghosted is that the residual doubt and uncertainty lingers and follows you into new relationships. You can easily become anxious, desperate not to be blindsided again. And this worry can easily poison your new relationship if you allow it to simmer. It’s important to learn to trust yourself again. It’s possible that you didn’t signs in your other relationship because you were afraid of what they would mean. Trust that you can not only recognize brewing problems but that you can also face whatever may come.

I’m probably getting a little ahead of myself. Right now, you just want to know how to make the pain end. I wish I could wave a magic wand for you and release the anguish you feel. But I can’t. No one can. Not even your ex.

They are gone.

The way they went about it is cowardly and shitty. Yet the end result is the same. They are gone.

They had all the power in how they chose to end things. You have all the power now in how you choose to move forward.

I’m going to interrupt to share with you a little story about ghosts –

When I was six years old, my parents took me to Disney World. I insisted on waiting in the two-hour line for the haunted mansion ride. They indulged me (yes, I am an only child.) As we approached the front of the line, the details of the house and the spooky sounds playing over the speakers began to frighten me. Panicked, I refused to step inside the attraction.

A short time later, I gathered up my courage and decided that I wanted to brave the ride again. My parents again indulged me, only with some well-deserved grumbles this time.

It turned out that I had built those ghosts up to be way bigger and way more powerful than they were. The fear was within me. The story that they would harm me was one that I was telling myself. And when I walked back out into that Florida sunshine, I felt proud of myself that I had faced those ghosts and made it out the other side.

I know this ghost is different. They have hurt you. Deeply. Yet now they are like a projection in that haunted house – the real danger is over. What’s left is the apparition in your mind. And even that will fade as you again walk back into the light.

You will never forget “the one who ran away.” But don’t waste your life chasing after them. They are not worth your time.

Your love and loyalty and energy are better spent on those that deserve it.

And that includes you.

I see you.

I hear you.

I understand you.

And I believe in you.

Lisa

 

Want to learn more about my story when I was abruptly abandoned by my husband after sixteen years?

 

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