For so much of my life I worked myself toward the edge of exhaustion trying to be the best me I could be. A big part of that ‘work’ was taking care of my family. Subsets of that were childcare, home maintenance, bringing in extra income, yard maintenance and advocating for my learning challenged son.

Whew. Just listing those is tiring. When I look back I can clearly see that I was trying to have it all, do it all and thus, feel accomplished/needed. My purpose in life was to be an excellent me. Any sacrifices, I thought to be natural to the season of life in which I found myself. Being a mom meant sacrificing. Surely I would have years after they flew the nest to explore ‘me’.

I am now in that empty nest place and indeed I did for a time, explore the new career of writing. It was a true joy, now morphed into blog writing rather than novel creation. And yes, there are many hours to spend in self care and the search for purpose. Sometimes too many.

It seems life is often like that. Feast or famine. I remember Oprah talking about the lie of ‘you can have it all’. Her conclusion was that each of us can have it all, just not all at once. There is deep wisdom in that. Yes, I could be a great mother, before I took on outside work. There simply are not enough hours in the day nor enough energy for any one person to do it all and have it all at the same time, if that means undertaking motherhood (a 24/7 job) and full time employment. It took my intense investment in becoming a published author post empty nest that highlighted the truth of this.

I did the best I could during those years I mothered and worked. Most women who find themselves in this place, do the same. Truth is, doing either of those full time undertakings is doable and enough to occupy any human. Doing both requires sacrificing somewhere. Usually that means streamline-ing, prioritizing, and/or allowing your selfcare to languish. Balance is doable just so far before the balancing act requires something to give. ‘Good enough’ becomes vital. Imperfection.

Balance. The goal of a life well lived. Even now in my Covid quarantine isolation, I spend my days balancing housework with gardening, with exercise, with painting, with reading, with cooking etc. The blessing of retirement/quarantine is, by its nature, the ability for balance without great sacrifice of any of the undertakings needed or desired.

SO what does this all have to do with betrayal trauma? Oh so much. Most women feel the pressure to be and do it all. Often their marriage is called upon to absorb some reduction of time and attention– a sacrifice in service of the unbalanceable demands of motherhood, home maintenance and employment. If you are fortunate enough to be married to a healthy spouse, they are ‘on the page’ with the sacrifices required during this lengthy season of life. They realize and accept that they will not get the same amount of uninterrupted focus as they did B.C. (before children), not what they can anticipate in empty nest years. They communicate the inevitable difficulties and strains of this season and work with their spouse to mitigate the challenges as best they can. Teamwork. Balance.

An unhealthy spouse who builds resentment, has unrealistic expectations and creates unenforceable rules about what their spouse should or should not be doing —all without discussion–can and does set himself up to betray his values. Add in a measure of entitlement formed from a less-than ideal childhood and you have the perfect storm for infidelity.

“Tale as old as time,” are the lyrics from Beauty of the Beast. In that story the ‘tale’ refers to boy meets girl. In the case of this article, I refer to the no-win set up of a stonewalling, quietly resentful spouse meets the season of high demand inherent in childrearing/working outside the home.

“You ‘never’ had sex with me”. (Notice the black and white thinking). If I’ve heard that excuse for taking on a mistress once, I’ve heard it hundreds of times. Entitlement. Silence. Unrealistic expectations unmitigated through communication, compromise or support. Wham-o.

Tale as old as time. Lives shattered. Hearts broken. Marriage destroyed.

All in pursuit of fun, fast and easy escape. Escape from reality. Raising a family requires compromise, sacrifice and intentional attention paid to the marriage. Anything less and someone, something suffers.

Now I am more than okay with being an imperfectionist. I have found it vital to my sanity, my contentment, my self care and my quality of life. “God grant me the serenity…” I crave, nay, I deserve serenity in this lifetime. Contentment. Purpose without burnout. And the energy to be relational too.

And so do you. Practice, not perfection. That is life. A life well lived.