The Fearful Part

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.

It’s Not About the Toothpaste Tube

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.

An Inconvenient Truth

Happiness will come only when I open the door to pain.

You can’t have one without the other.

I am a betrayed spouse. I have learned to live with what happened. It has become a part of my history, something I went through. I have received the shattering and it has become a part of me, woven into the fabric of my life story.

I think they call that ‘Acceptance’.

It has not come without truckloads of pain. Messy, dark, catastrophic, heart shattering pain. I’ve opened the door to it because I know down to my toes it is the only way through the devastation they call intimate betrayal.

Acceptance. The final stage of the Kubler-Ross five stages of grief. Her co-author and colleague, David Kessler, got permission from Kubler-Ross’ estate to publish a book outlining the sixth stage.

Finding Meaning

“Your loss is not a test, a lesson, something to handle, a gift, or a blessing. Loss is simply what happens to you in life. Meaning is what you make happen.”
―David Kessler, Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief

That is our uncharted, unwelcome task: To find meaning. Loss happens no matter what we do or fail to do. It is truly not about us. Sometimes it is caused by the behavior of others. Sometimes it is a natural disaster. Sometimes it is even the loss of personal health, in which case it is internal to our body, but not our intention.

The unilateral choice made by one of two marital partners to break the marriage contract ends that marriage. It matters not whether the other faithful partner is aware of the breech. Just as avoidance of going to the doctor or absence of symptoms to propel one to make that doctor visit has zero effect on the truth of the cancer. It is there. And it happens to us, not because of our intention.

It just is. One of life’s inconvenient truths.

The ancillary consequence of loss is the mandate to heal. That healing IS within our control. We have agency over how and even if we grieve the loss. In the case of marital betrayal, it is wholly our responsibility to heal our wounded heart. It will not happen without our choice to invest in our regaining of health.

That said:

“Each person’s grief is as unique as their fingerprint. But what everyone has in common is that no matter how they grieve, they share a need for their grief to be witnessed. That doesn’t mean needing someone to try to lessen it or reframe it for them. The need is for someone to be fully present to the magnitude of their loss without trying to point out the silver lining.”
―David Kessler

Part of healing is being heard. Validated. As communal animals who crave attachment, we likewise need to be heard, upheld and validated. We need to know our pain matters, our loss matters. Our loss is real. We do not heal in isolation. We stew. We build stories in our mind that more than likely skew from the truth. We begin to tell ourself untruths such as ‘I could have stopped this from happening if I just _____________….(was more then, less then, different etc.) Or we tell ourselves we will never heal. We are permanently wounded. Our lives will never regain meaning.

Such internal battling is normal, but not helpful or in most cases based in reality. We need each other. We need another human being to hear our struggles and in their presence, reassure us we are not crazy or fatally flawed. We are humans in a great deal of pain.

Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance. Expectations are a set up for disappointment and resentment. They may reflect our wishes. They do not dictate reality.

We can only regain serenity through grieving our losses and turning toward life. Building a new life with or without the presence of the wounding partner. Regain equilibrium and balance. Wipe the grime of betrayal from our life lenses and begin to see reality as it is. Flawed, painful, yet also beautiful and rich. Truth is there is so very much wonder and magnificence in the world and in the living. It is our individual work to regain our zest for life. Heal the wound with self care and love.

“You don’t have to experience grief, but you can only avoid it by avoiding love. Love and grief are inextricably intertwined.”
―David Kessler

Some have gone as far as to say that grief is the cost of love.

I have heard many a dog owner vow to never own another after the painful loss of their beloved canine companion. At what cost? The absence of canine unconditional love. To love a dog is to eventually lose that dog.

Nothing in life is permanent. All is destined to end. With clear life lenses we can see that we all experience the risk and inevitability of the loss of all we love. Including our own life. Truth. Reality.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

― C.S. Lewis

So it is indeed our choice whether to risk again. To risk to love. Love comes with loss, but it is also the root of joy.

An inconvenient truth

Never Forget…

You are not your age, nor the size of clothes you wear,

You are not a weight, or the color of your hair.

You are not your name, or the dimples in your cheeks.

You are all the books you read, and all the words you speak.

You are your croaky morning voice, and the smiles you try to hide.

You’re the sweetness in your laughter, and every tear you’ve cried.

You’re the songs you sing so loudly when you know you’re all alone.

You’re the places that you’ve been to, and the one that you call home.

You’re the things that you believe in, and the people whom you love.

You’re the photos in your bedroom, and the future you dream of.

You’re made of so much beauty, but it seems that you forgot

When you decided that you were defined by all the things you’re not.

-Anon

When the Day is Dark

Sitting on my daughter’s couch in North Carolina. It’s grey and raining. The water gurgles in the gutters and the corona virus news hums in the background. It is easy to let my spirits fall and darken like the weather and the news.

But yesterday I strolled my nineteen month old granddaughter to the park around the corner and down the block. The sun was out. The tight buds on the trees swelled in preparation for their springtime show. The smell of burning wood laced the breeze. My baby granddaughter peered up at me from her stroller, cheeks full of youth and sun. And even though my UH is still present in my life, the situation just couldn’t be ruined by the ever present pain. Even though he has yet to make amends, I have a life full of blessings.

Yes, I entered the ‘at risk’ age bracket a few months ago. My penchant for asthma, especially when sick, will not go away. My daughter’s family is sick with colds, so I fully expect I will catch it. Yet that one day—this one day is held in mind as precious.

None of us is guaranteed tomorrow. None of us can foresee our futures.

SO why not be present? Present in each and every moment. Even this one. The one where I am alone on the couch, looking out on a wet dreary day. I have the gift of my humanity. The gift to choose my outlook.

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
― Viktor E. Frankl

My parent’s generation were called upon to defend the world from tyranny. They went to war and fought the essence of human evil.

We are being asked to stay on our couch. Isolate from our fellows to stop a viral evil from taking even one more life than we can prevent.

We can do this, people.

And we do not have to be overtaken by dread. We can do the best we can, love each other, following medical advise, pray and stay in each precious moment. Each and every blessed moment we are given in this life.

We are together in our humanity. You on your couch, I on mine.

K-O-B-E

K- for kind. So many have said the man, the legend was indeed kind, even when no one was looking.

O- is for original. Yeah–he won an Oscar for his short animated feature inspiring kids to hang in there and give it their all.

B – Best. He gave it his best. His work ethic was known widely to be amazing. Talent plus hard work.

E – Enough. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how hard anyone works, it will be seen as not enough in those times of inevitable failure. Make that last hoop and you’re the best player ever. Miss it, lose the game, you are the villain. The let down. A mistake. Or a poor choice. I hope grace and redemption are available for us all. YOU are enough. Whether betrayed or unfaithful. Always have been. Always will be.

We can learn a lot from Kobe. A man who fell. A man who went on to achieve. We who are struggling with being betrayed by the one person who swore to uphold us in love. We unfaithful who are fighting to become men and women of integrity after our own fall.

K- for kind. If there is one lesson anyone can learn, to profit themselves and others, it is to be kind. Or as Fred Rogers said: “There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.” May we who have been devastated remember how important it is to keep living by this golden rule….even when no one else seems to be following it.

O- for original. Each of us is one of a kind in all the history of the world. Each of us have a unique gift to give the world. Don’t allow someone else’s devastating choices to keep you from giving that gift to the world. Don’t allow your own failures and bad choices to dictate the rest of your life or your value.

B- for the best. This recovery journey will require the best of you. But then you have probably had lots of practice giving your best to your spouse, and your family. You are no stranger to the ‘best’. Don’t let your unfaithful’s choices change that about you. Give your best gift with kindness intact.

E- Enough. You always have been. You in your perfect imperfection have given and loved to the best of your ability. You and your original gifts and talents are the best ‘you’ there has ever been or will be. You are precious, unique and soooo much ‘enough’.

SO…you kind, original, best, enough soul- hang in there one day at a time. Keep climbing that mountain of recovery. Keep caring for special precious, kind, original, best and enough you.

Kobe knew it. He fell and got back up. Kobe gave it. One day, one workout, one basket, one game at a time.

Kind original best enough him.

Kind original best enough you.

Addendum: It is my intent to focus on all the good the man did on the day of his death. But more, I wanted to uplift those of us who are struggling. I do regret that the post has brought up some hurt in others. None of us know the truth of all of his life and (infidelity?), but like you, I ardently hope our unfaithful spouses will heal themselves and their marriage (as it seems Kobe did) to go on in their lives to do good. I hope all unfaithful are neither judged or feel they must wear the yoke of failures/ poor choices for the rest of their lives–and afterwards, as we remember them. I choose gratitude and focusing on redemption.

Resentment of The Work and the Pain

I have a battle with resentment over having this work and pain dumped on me. It is totally unfair and we are indeed victims of another’s choices.

That said, I have read over and over that a person ceases to be a victim the moment they find out about the betrayal or experience the atrocity. From that moment on we have the choices. Our eyes are open and it is now our choice what we do with the unfair act(s). Many leave. Many decide to stay. All have grief to work through for all the many many losses. All must choose what to do with their new unwelcome reality. We have been victims. Now it is our unwelcome, unfair job to fight victim thinking.

What are we who have been fooled. manipulated and lied to for years to do with the resentment? We WERE the victim for years. Where do we put all the grief and the anger? Even if we are no longer victims in the present, oh but there were so many days, weeks, months and years we were. Oh the loss.

When will it ever seem fair—never.

Forgiveness is accepting of suffering for what someone else did.

And that is hard. A long difficult road. No less painful than healing from a physical injury (caused by someone else, as in a crime) We have been victims of a crime–the breaking of legal contractual vows, and of our hearts.

I ‘know’ all this in my head, yet it is still a work in progress for my heart.

It has also been said that the longest distance on the planet is between the head and the heart.

Alone Again, Naturally

Well after the big discussion of his cruelty in leaving me to myself and refusing to talk to me, he has once again failed to approach me. Saturday is supposed to be his check in day where he lets me know how his recovery work is coming along for the week. Although he listened along with me to a few episodes of Vicki Tidwell Palmer’s “Beyond Bitchy” pod cast on boundaries, he neither commented on the content nor checked in about his week, nor approached me to do the repair work he agreed has been sorely missing.

After dinner I turned off the TV and sat on the couch. He picked up a magazine and paged through it. Zero interaction.

SO here I am in my room, alone again, naturally. Here we are, dear betrayed, hanging out in virtual time. My flu is still hanging on with congestion that won’t break and an awful taste in my mouth. My stomach is queasy. That said I’ve walked 13,000 steps today, done my dumbbell free weights, some balance work and managed to appreciate the sunshine streaming in.

A bit of Amazon window shopping and a brief check in on the news. It’s been a quiet day sans relational progress but filled with self care. I’ll continue asking God to direct me, my thinking and my steps. Surely there is more for me to do going into retirement. What is in store, I pray to be led, doors and windows opened.

I’ve been practicing meditation for a few months now. Beginning with one minute after opening ‘set aside prayer’, I’ve worked up to between five and twelve minutes an evening. I open my mind and ask for guidance. SO far God still seems mostly silent. I did have the definite message/feeling yesterday that it would be best to drop sharing quotes, articles etc with UH. He says he hates them anyways and it sure doesn’t seem to have any positive effect on his thinking.

I did tell him last week that if he doesn’t follow his agreement to approach me daily with conversation I will be attending church alone. I hate having my spiritual time interrupted by his presence next to me and me feeling ignored. Much like my time alone in my room, church time is precious too. It is another boundary that occurred to me during meditation. I deserve peace and serenity which is hard to achieve when I am feeling resentful that he has continued to break his agreement to talk.

Boundaries are good. The need for them sucks.

Serene Saturday

Yes, things were going along at a Saturday slow pace. I saw to cleaning up the aggregate patio and the baby’s tears that crawl across the framework surrounding it. Maintenance kinda stuff on a lovely afternoon. Made a list of supplies to get from the hardware store, had a sandwich lunch and sat down to blog.

Whamo–my computer screen gets taken over by (allegedly) Apple, telling me I have three viruses and they can be repaired remotely. I chat with the guy in the chat window. He removed an update I just did to java script and then offers me to buy a tune up and security package. I’m not comfortable.

I tell him I will check out his company by calling Apple Store. ( PC MAGIC USA INC. ) and do a quick search on Google. Better Business Bureau pops up to say this company is not certified by BBB. Hmmm…more red flags. The chat guy says it’s too bad I am not going to get such service at such cheap price and wishes me a good day.

Time to call Apple Store for info and (in truth) a long overdue tune up.

Born yesterday? Or maybe this company is legit but I’m not giving my credit card info to some company that pops up. Not sure my naivetee would have been greater pre-D-day. I’ve always been careful with potential scams–even ones on the computer that seems so real.

Forewarned is Forearmed. Be careful out there folks. Or should I say, we are not even safe typing at home on our computer from salesmen! Hi Ho Hi Ho–it’s off to the Apple Store I go….