What Is Worse Post-Infidelity?

Shame researcher, Brené Brown, hits the nail on the head: “When the people we love or with whom we have a deep connection stop caring, stop paying attention, stop investing and fighting for the relationship, trust begins to slip away and hurt starts seeping in.”

For many of us who have suffered the insufferable intimate betrayal of our partner; the days, weeks and months following the revelation of that betrayal may be even worse than the initial blow. “How could you” becomes “how come you aren’t…”

Why aren’t you doing everything in your power to help heal this unfair, caustic choice? Why are you placing your comfort and escape of the consequences of your behavior over the horrendous harm you have caused the person you claim to love?

One might expect there to be a season of shock, even on the part of the betrayer. There is a certain expectation that it will take time (and effort) on the part of the betrayer to learn his ‘why’, to absorb the human consequences to his partner’s sense of safety, lovability and worth and to practice the vital salve of empathy.

When there is not growth in this direction. When the betraying partner continues to avoid the work, avoid intimate engagement with his hurt partner, avoid listening to the pain his choice(s) has heaped upon her head; the worst form of betrayal ensues.

The betrayal of disengagement.

What can make this covert betrayal so much more dangerous than the original infraction of an affair, is that we can’t point specifically to the source of our pain — there’s no event, no obvious evidence of brokenness, no moment in time when the world falls apart. It is an insidious drip, drip, drip of emotional abandonment.

This abandonment can look like his consistent attendance at 12 step meetings, exercise, tv watching, without equal or greater investment in you and your relationship.The activities of relational abandonment do not have to be of anything objectionable. They may, and often are, the stuff of accolade. Who can object to 12 step attendance, or the self care of exercise? A bit of relaxation in front of the tv is balm to a long day.

The hurt seeps in when these activities blot out the sun of relational repair and caring.

“But I’m doing so much. Nothing I do is ever enough for you.”

Such complaints from the betrayer open the floodgates to partner shame and the self doubt such proclamations cause.Are we unreasonable to want, nay expect, caring and relational repair in equal and great quantities? Why aren’t we worth the time and dedication? Are we being unreasonable or are we just hurt?

If the betrayer would have inflicted bodily harm in an auto accident caused by his drinking or carelessness, would we not expect triage to demand our wounds be tended to before the deeper work as to why he was drinking or careless?

Of course. Everyday humanity prioritizes the most severely wounded. Why can’t or doesn’t our betraying spouse run to our aid with every minute and hour of their day until we are stabilized and then in generous measure for the healing process that most often takes years?

Shame, you say? They are ashamed of their behaviors and thus continue to make it about them as they self wound through negative internal dialogue of how awful a person they really are.

And so there is a season of shame to be expected, perhaps even tolerated.At the scene of an auto accident the person wallowing in shame would either be pushed aside to be admonished, perhaps arrested by law enforcement, or shaken into sense “Snap out of it—there’s a woman bleeding out here!!”.Or isolated from the wounded to not cause her further harm.

Does it come down to the moral fiber and character of the betraying partner? Would not a caring person tend to the wounded? Makes sense.

But addiction and/or the narcissistic tendencies do not make sense. The mental gymnastics required to commit intimate betrayal make such humane actions unlikely. The betrayer has long worked a program of self deception and distortion to twist reality into a place where their actions were deemed acceptable, if not inevitable to them.They have justified themselves into the oblivion of self centeredness and moral disengagement intimate betrayal portrays.

Snap out of It!!!

Oh that those words would work. Oh that the pleas for kindness, caring, accountability and reliability were met with seriousness and action.When the people we love or with whom we have a deep connection stop caring, stop paying attention, stop investing and fighting for the relationship, it is not only trust that slips away. So too does love.

How long do we wait? How long do we tolerate the intolerable behavior of disengagement? We are worth so much better, so much more. Truth.

No one can answer that question, but the wounded person.This respect for self, autonomy of choice does nothing to lighten the pain of being abandoned every minute, day, week and month, by a partner making his behavior and time spent about him with little to no regard for his partner.

Life is not fair AND love demands more.

The Fearful Part

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There is an exercise in the book “No Bad Parts” by Richard Schwartz that asks the reader to close their eyes and imagine walking down a welcoming path, no matter where that path might be. The caveat is to try to leave all your hurt “Exile” parts at the trailhead, reassuring them that you will be back soon and that they are safe to hang out. 

The author spends some time explaining that your inner hurt ‘exiles’ may not be ready to be left alone and that it is okay for you (your ‘self’ /real adult) to stay with that hurt child/children to either to get to know them better and/or to reassure them that you, the adult self, are there to protect and care for them. That you, your adult self, is capable of handling whatever situation might arise.

There is an exercise in the book, “No Bad Parts” by Richard Schwartz, that asks the reader to close their eyes and imagine walking down a welcoming path, no matter where that path might be. A path of your choice. The caveat is to try to leave all the parts of you that are hurt “Exile” parts at the trailhead, reassuring them that you will be back soon and that they are safe to hang out. 

All that to say that my response to this exercise was surprising to me. Maybe it is because I have done so many years of Alanon-type work in allowing myself to care for all the hurt parts of me and to ‘detach’ from the person or people that are causing me pain in the present. It is the biggest feat in finding serenity, no matter what the addict or other(s) are doing or causing. To know you ‘got this’, and will be all right regardless of the outcome of the behavior of other(s).

My response was to skip down that path feeling freed from all the pain and restraints of those hurt parts. It’s like the part(s) had evolved enough to allow me to go forward without them, at least for a time.  It was freeing to feel light and carefree and stable. I felt truly able to care for myself on that path, even though it was a  (real) path I have hiked, one with many bumpy areas, drops and crevices. That path is at the seashore and leads to a wonderful wild beach where few visit.

I felt excited to bound along it. I felt that my hurt parts were finally able to let me enjoy my life and explore without having to cling to me. They felt like my cheerleaders instead of my burdens. They were actually happy for me.

It was marvelous.

This is not to say that I do not have a hurt part of me still rear her little head at times. I was conveying an incident from my young childhood..maybe three or four–in which I decided to try to help my mom and bring in the milk bottle from the porch (back in the days when the milkman delivered). I felt so grown up and helpful. Well, in my excitement, I failed to notice the screen door did not clear the milk bottle. You guessed it, the bottle broke. 

My mother was so angry at what she saw as my carelessness, that she sent me to my room and made me get coins out of my piggy bank to pay her for the spilt milk. Who knows how bad of a day she was having, but this crushed me. It implanted in me the tendency, to this day, take on responsibility for errors, or even perceived possible errors, as my fault. It brings up that mortified little girl. My goodness, I just want to hug her.

Because of the opportunity of this exposure to ‘parts’, I have been able to see that little mortified helper child and realize that she still lives within me. I can truly tame her fear and guilt when I recognize her. 

I used an example of present day. I run an air bnb out of our home. Occasionally a guest will either rate us lower than top ‘5 stars’ or will complain about something like the room temperature or not enough of the kind of tea bags they prefer available. My first impulse is to feel fear and to feel wrong/ careless. I feel that I should have known to realize whatever their complaint is about before they had to voice it. That I am that little girl who, even with the best of intentions, was seen by her mother as naughty and thoughtless.

Oh my goodness, what a revelation. What a gift to be enabled to pause and hold that little girl part in high esteem as valuable and good, so that I can move forward in my grown up self to deal with the issue at hand with vastly reduced fear/guilt reaction. I can now allow present reality to sink in, freeing me to behave in a more realistic evaluation of the situation and put it into perspective. I am a well meaning, valuable person who would never intentionally harm another. I am enough.

Is It Dementia ?

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As we age many of us are concerned with losing our memories and the dark specter of dementia.

Both my mother and maternal grandmother had dementia so when my partner became increasingly concerned with his memory, I prayed for a reprieve from this challenge. A recent visit to a neurologist opened my eyes.

When she asked what signs I had been noticing in my partner, I mentioned a litany of objects that had been lost. She said “That is not memory. That is a lack of mindfulness.” Hmmm….

The appointment went on with further testing. Tests indicated that memory issues were within the normal perimeters of the aging process and that we should keep tabs on any progression over time. Relief, mixed with ‘what if’s’, washed over me.

Over the next few days and weeks I paid close attention to his behaviors and reflected upon past incidents of frustrating outcomes.It became more and more apparent to me what she had referred to as a lack of mindfulness.

So what is the difference?

Memory is forgetting where you left your keys. Mindfulness is placing your keys in the same location every time so that the memory of where they are kept can direct you to their location. You only have to remember where the keys are kept, not the hundred and one places you may have left them because you were not mindful enough to return them to their assigned location. The loss of misplaced keys is not a memory issues. It is a failure of practicing mindfulness.You have to record a memory to be able to remember it. If you mindlessly set down an item..no memory is recorded. Not a memory problem, this is an example of lack of mindfulness.The intentional recording of a memory in one’s mind.

If and when you forget the location of the assigned place where your keys are kept…that is a memory issue.If you forget where you keep the milk, that is a memory problem. You have recorded (numerous times) that the milk is in the refrigerator.If you forget where your bedroom is in your home, that is a memory problem.

Life is full of challenges, but sabotaging yourself by choosing a slap dash approach to managing your life is not one of the inevitable ones.Dementia is something science can not stop or even fully understands, but choosing self responsibility in managing your things is something totally within your control.

Good news!

We do not have to settle for being labelled the absent minded professor with all the frustration that ensues, or worse yet, suffer the night terrors of imagining ourselves deteriorating into some lonely room of a memory unit in a care facility.

My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimers at 67. Even under the weight of this incurable progressive illness, she knew her quality of life depended on what she would do for herself to accommodate for her failing memory. The tools that had stood, within her, the test of time, such as her calendar and grocery list, she chose to strengthen and expanded into using post its, mapping the floorpan of the grocery store to reduce having to revisit aisles, and thus diminish her reliance on someone else having to do the chores of daily living.

Yes, over the months and years the calendar became dog eared with her checking and rechecking, the loss of her driving privilege inevitable for her own safety and asking the same question more frequent, but losing her belongings was not an issue. She knew the importance of organization and consistency in her life both pre and post diagnosis. She certainly did not deny her challenge nor place the burden of self management onto someone else when it was not necessary. The arrogance of hubris and denial were not her issues. She chose better.

She loved her family and valued her independence too much to allow a lack of willingness to practice daily mindful behaviors steal her self respect or over burden her loved ones. For this I hold her in the highest regard.

Count your blessings every day you have the privilege of managing your own life. The seemingly mundane tools of calendar, list and mindful habit are your blessings to uphold.

Thank God you have them and the choice to employ them.

It’s Not About the Toothpaste Tube

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Top left off–toothpaste drying out…

Underwear on the floor, damp towel on the bed, dirty socks that ‘missed’ the hamper…all are undoubted annoyances. Many a man has complained he is henpecked by an exasperated woman asking for compliance to be mindful. After all, in the grand scheme of life, who cares?

She does.

This stuff of everyday living, underneath the underneath, is not about the stuff.

It is about the message sent.

It is about feeling cared for and about–or not.

It is the day in and day out efforts of common courtesy that either add to her feeling of validity, or detract from it.

What may be the topic of eye rolling and sighs on his part is actually just one of a thousand little things that add up in her heart; not only add onto her burden of house maintenance. It sends the message that her requests are not heard. Worse yet, that her feelings and efforts do not matter.

Why shouldn’t he be entitled to relax in his own home? With his boss on his back and society telling him how he has to perform, shrugging a jacket onto a chair when entering the house after a long day is understandable.Isn’t it her job to meet her own unreasonable requests? No one ever died of having to pick up a few things before laundry day.

In a single person, single system house, this might make all sorts of sense.It would then be only one person responsible for caring for the stuff–or not. Only one person looking at and living with the results.

In a couple-ship or family this is ‘non-relational’. In truth it sends some very harmful and hurtful messages.

Beyond the cap on the toothpaste tube sitting on the countertop yet again, is what it implies.”Your wishes and needs are not important” “You are too demanding.” “This little stuff is ridiculous…save it for something big (and important).” “The work you do around the house is expected (and taken for granted).” “I am entitled to use you more as a maid than a partner.” “Your feelings and time aren’t on my radar.” “I have more important fish to fry.” “My comfort is paramount.” “Your requests and feelings are your concern, not mine.” “Your needs/ you are an annoyance.”

Perhaps worst of all “I don’t think about or consider you before acting.”

How can a woman feel loved or safe if her partner does not consider her?

She can’t.

Hollow Universe

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When you find out that your spouse’s idea of sex is one hundred eighty degrees different from yours, it is certainly a shock. Especially when he has been portraying himself as a committed husband.

When you choose a man to marry in full willingness to dedicate your time and body to him and you discover his idea of time spent and sex engaged in do not include exclusivity or commitment, your world shatters like a crystal goblet on concrete.

The universe feels suddenly hollow as if the substance you relied upon was not real. The stuff of your character and beliefs are not his.Your ‘marriage’ is hollow.

To be willing to engage sexually with a woman outside of marriage, your husband has behaved in a way that says ‘sex is undertaken with a willing partner, someone convenient, agreeable, and or duped.’ Given the opportunity, your husband has sex. This is bathed in entitlement, misogyny and, because done in secret, deceit.It is diametrically opposed to the marriage vows he freely undertook with you. Your expectations were to be treated as special and sacred where the bedroom is concerned. Your marriage bed was meant to be between you and him.

And you probably lived a life believing he actually lived up to those vows. You probably thought you were indeed special and sacred to him. That you and your body would be looked upon as exclusive and protected from all assault. That you were the apple of his eye. That he would go to great lengths to protect the sanctity of you and your special exclusive relationship.

So when he decides to obtain erectile help in the form of prescription without talking to you about it, you might well think he is still on the path of opportunity, should it present itself. Or that he may be planning on grooming opportunity with another. Or, given the best benefit of the doubt, he is living in make-believe that your marital relationship is something it no longer is—safe, full of trust and bearing the fruits of emotional intimacy. He is living yet again in the fantasy of believing that because you once upon a time made vows of exclusivity, that they remain intact despite his obvious dereliction of them and you. That you are willing to undertake the most personal of activities a woman can offer a man…full access to her body.

It communicates that you are in the place of being okay with sex without a committed, emotionally vulnerable and trusting relationship. That his sexual menu was then, and seems now, to still be one of convenience and opportunity, not of commitment and emotional intimacy. In other words—sex is a fantasy world to pretend you have a commitment and a meaningful relational intimacy when you don’t, with the goal of sexual release and ‘high’/ false intimacy.

What level of hypocrisy and abuse does this rise to?

“What are you thinking?” is the sentence that comes immediately to mind.

Evidently there is very little thinking involved. There is knee jerk impulsivity to assume you are willing and available to engage in a sacred exclusive act for what?? ‘fun’? Sexual release? a good time? To what level of assumption does this rise? Has your moral compass somehow shifted to be his? What??

I am at a loss of words to convey the depravity of this thinking/this assumption.

In what universe do we live that we are expected to dance to the fantasies of our spouse? Are we objects to control and to which he has access? We certainly are not the stuff of sacred, protected and beloved.

Oh hollow universe that has placed us in the path of such a delusional man.

May we continue to fill our universe to the brim by following our own integrity, our character intact, living in self care– even if our heart has been shattered on the rocks of disappointment.

Restless Dreamer

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When the last of the old year fades

Messages of love abound

Hearts grown warm in the cold of winter

In the face of long nights and chill

Not ready to say goodbye

To the lights, the sparkle

The sweet cookies with icing adorned

The red and green velvet

And satin sheen

Wide eyes aglow in the crackling nights

News of the year gone by, from old friends received

The indistinct tinkle of bells

All the fruits of effort put forth enjoyed

In the name of love

In the name of love

Generosity abounds

The magic of dreams gone by re-ignites

The ‘maybes’ and ‘they just might be reals’—seem possible

The wishes

The deep, warm sleeps beneath billowing comforters

and cozy flannel

Tickling of a nose by bubbling champagne

The wonder of what might be

Prayers for less hate– more love

For love to win

As it always does

As it always does

The one real thing in this time worn world

That makes it real

The Love

The love

Goodbye Holidays

Be ours forever

In December

In December

and the New Year

Even The Stars Weep

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Disenfranchised grief is a loss that, when suffered, does not bring out sympathy in others. This sends the message that it is not acceptable to feel or express the pain and emotions that naturally follow loss.

Intimate Betrayal Trauma is a disenfranchised grief. The most important person in your life has died, yet still lives.They are not who they seemed. That person is gone.

Ambiguous loss occurs when there is no emotional closure. This also creates a grief not validated by others. It is an invisible loss. It mirrors having a disability that displays no visual evidence– crutches, no cane, no wheelchair. There is no repair coming forth from the one who wounded you.

And as we who have suffered such a loss in losing the life partner we thought we had, in the instant of discovery of sexual betrayal, our history is turned upside down, our file cabinet of personal past is knocked over, spilling the entire contents across the floor in willy nilly disarray.

I remember those long nights of deep, lonely grief. I looked up at the stars hoping to hear the voice of my departed mother and dad. Or maybe my wise old grandmother offering advise. What to do, where to start, how to dig my way out of this mess I never imagined, asked for or created.Where do I begin. Who am I if not the person I thought of as wife?

Only the stars wept.

Or was it my own tears that blurred the majesty of the night sky?

I was alone, I searched those celestial bodies as they wept. To acknowledge and validate the depth of my loss.

There were no human beings that understood. No one in my world had ever been through such a thing. No family member could wrap their head around what it meant to lose half your body and heart. What it feels like to be torn asunder, experiencing the invalidation of all the dreams and work that went into years of a marriage you loved.

There is no justice after losing your history and your ‘person’. Unlike corporeal death, there is no body, no funeral, no ceremony, no casseroles from compassionate neighbors. No recognition that you were a married person yesterday and now you are completely changed.

Never can you return to your former naive self. The one who thought her world was safe, intact. The one who felt protected and valued.

It is more than heartbreak.

You are soul broken.

https://www.amazon.com/Soulbroken-Guidebook-Journey-Through-Ambiguous-ebook/dp/B09RWPXWTT/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8

And only the stars weep.

I weep too because I know how it feels.

I validate and acknowledge all of you out there that have lost the one person in the world who swore to love and protect you.

I know that relationship is dead, yet the person who inflicted the pain is still breathing—maybe living under the same roof. Someone you face day in and out as you scrapple with the grief and confusion. The loss. Your world is not what you thought it was. Who can you trust? Who and where is it safe?

Indescribable loss to anyone who has not invested themselves in another so deeply and had it all torn to shreds.

I see you.

I feel you.

I weep for you and with you.

So if you sit under the wide sky tonight and gaze at the stars, know it is they who weep, we who weep, we who know your loss and grief.

You are not alone under the stars.

Seven Years, Not The Charm

I have believed for many days, weeks, months and now years, that change would be inevitable, given enough time and patience.

But guess what–that is not true.

Seven years ago today the world I’d built so lovingly blew up. My spouse decided it was high time I knew about his secret sexual basement. You know, that place that exists beneath the happy family home that no one knows about except one person–the one who visits there as part of his double life.

Seven years in tibet…no

The seven year itch…no

Lucky number seven…no

Seven years war…not that either.

Seven years in hell–partially.

But only for a season.

It doesn’t matter how wonderful a time in life is, or how awful…it will ease. And there will be shadows and ghosts of it buried deep in mind and body.

Shadows and ghosts.

You can be frightened by the shadows. They can seem to appear from nowhere. You can dread the visitation of the ghosts. OR you can choose to accept their presence knowing they are but reflections of a past gone by. They are there to remind you, to warn you of the brevity of this time on earth. They are there to wear as a badge of courage, survival and thriving, should you choose to do the work of turning your attention toward the present and all the gifts it offers.

I have walked through that long hallway of sorrow, grieving the dreams and realities I’d planned for sweated and wept over. Wisdom hard won.

The wisdom that is earned through pain.

The wisdom that reality dishes up in one portion or another for every human being alive. We all have losses, disappointments, traumas. Some we courted through unwise or naive decisions. Some the result of other people’s actions.

At the end of the day, it is our work to do. Our wisdom to grow. Our choice to live in a way that honors the present circumstances, people, places and things that weave the fabric of our life in the here and now.

I honor my grief.

I honor my losses.

I honor the woman I once was, living naively in the shadow of another’s destructive choices. Even though I felt the chill in that shadow, I honor the loving, giving, benefit of the doubt, positive woman who felt that chill only as a part of life’s challenges to care for, love over and wait patiently for change.

These seven years have taught me without a doubt that I have zero control over anyone’s choices but my own.

I choose me. I choose. I choose everyday to focus on the good, the positive, the wonder, the gifts of this life that have always been a large part of the fabric of my life. I choose to use all those threads of good to reweave the fabric of life to warm me.Those beautiful golden and silver and luminescent threads that held me up even in the darkest days of living in unbenounced deception and lies.

It is my strength, my love, my efforts that have born fruits of resilience and survival to carry me into these good days in the golden years of my life.

These days are good because I choose to see the good, to work for the good, to focus on the good …and be grateful.

So grateful for all the lessons of my ancestors. For the blood in my veins of those people who forged through their own life’s challenges, passing on wisdom of perseverance and integrity. Of holding tight onto the values we hold so dear–of family of humanity and of love.

Love

Everyday

through the meaningful work

Of caring for self and others.

For me, to provided a comfortable place to stay to people from all corners of the world through maintaining an airbnb here under my roof. For caring for my dogs. For painting images of those I love. For walking the safe neighborhood my parents found and bought into in our family home. For access to this amazing tool of the internet to reach people I have not met, but might touch with the care behind my words.

For another day to wonder at the power of nature, the complexity of this amazing world.

Wow.I am blessed.

So are you, should you choose to feed the positive, beauty and love in your world too.