A few days ago, I was talking with a friend that has this ability to call me out, saying all the difficult things that I need to hear, yet doing so in such a way that makes me pause, rather than defend (for the most part). I definitely don’t want to hear these observations, or answer the questions that inevitably follow, but, the truth of the matter is, in order to really grow, I must listen. And, in the kindest of ways, he makes me question all the things I thought to be true about not only me, but also my past.
After some hardcore self-reflection, I realized I have been a pretty shitty person to my ex. And not just in the last 7 months since I found out about his infidelity, but for years.
I lacked intention.
I lacked compassion and grace.
I reacted to his poor behavior, validating my response because I was a victim. A victim of all the things I’ve written about in previous blogs.
But, you know what? Just because somebody shits on you doesn’t mean you shit on them back. That’s just not being a good human. There’s no validating poor behavior. No matter what.
For my own reasons, I chose to treat my ex poorly. I withdrew. Any affection I’d had for him diminished day by day. I started to only see him in a negative light. I focused on all of his faults. And when I spoke to those closest to me, I complained about him. Incessantly. All I saw were the awful things about him. That was all I chose to see. So, naturally, I convinced myself that my poor behavior towards him was understandable. It was excusable. My awful behavior was valid.
Sure, we all know by now that he did not treat me well. However, I allowed myself to play the role of victim – for years. And have continued to do so for the last 7 months.
Was I a victim? Yep. Did it mean that I had to define myself as that? Nope. But I did. Unconsciously, sure, but I did. Right up until Friday night. Until my friend smacked me with that info.
Oof. That didn’t sit well with me at first. I immediately tried to protest. “But I only behaved that way because he…” No, no, no! That’s not okay. It was time for me to own my actions.
So I bit my tongue. Literally. And I sat there in silence, continuing to listen to what he was saying. I processed this info longer than anything else we talked about that night.
I lived in a place of constant hurt. And anger. And I held onto those emotions tighter with every breath I took.
And when someone’s words and actions constantly hurt, there are some defense mechanisms that have to be put into place for survival.
Or so I thought.
So, that’s what I did. I began to shut down. To be perfectly honest with myself, and, I suppose, you, my ex eventually ceased to exist to me. Over time, he wasn’t someone I fought for or tried to engage with. I loved him, and at the same time, I didn’t really care about him. And I gave myself all the valid reasons for my actions.
- “Because he hurts me.”
- “Because he doesn’t care about my feelings. Or my job. Or my day. Or (insert reason here).
- “Because he doesn’t respect me.”
And guess what? It showed. It showed that he was an inconsequential human in my life.
He felt it.
I’m not sure which happened first. Did I shut down first or did he? Who shit on whom first?
Honestly, it doesn’t matter. We both turned away from one another. And we both convinced ourselves that it was okay. Because of that ugly place of being hurt. Both of us just wanted to feel love from the other. And neither of us was receiving it.
We were stuck in a negative loop so deeply entrenched in anger and hurt, stubbornness and frustration, that we both made decisions, some deliberate and intentional, others lacking complete intentionality, that drove a very solid wedge between us.
Let me be clear – hindsight is 20/20. In the moment, I never saw this. I actually didn’t see any of this until that conversation a few days ago. But the very ugly truth is that, over time, I came to care so little about him, and his feelings, that I would live my life with absolutely zero regard towards how my actions would affect him. He became insignificant and unimportant in my life.
Guys, we were married. I was his wife. And, though it was unintentional, I was, at the very least, a big giant jerk to him and at the very most, an astonishingly cold-hearted and inconsiderate human.
Just because it was unintentional doesn’t make it okay. Sure, I didn’t set out in the morning, when I opened my eyes, and plan how I was going to hurt him that day. I also didn’t set out that morning, when I opened my eyes, and plan how I would fill his life with happiness that day.
Truly loving somebody else is placing their happiness above your own. Seeing them happy should make you happy.
I didn’t care about his happiness. Because he didn’t care about mine.
Goodness, how wrong that thinking is!
Look at what it did, the outcome of that thought process…and to so many lives.
For the last 7 months, and for years before that, even if I thought that perhaps my actions could hurt him, I didn’t care. If it was something I wanted to do, I’d do it. His reaction to my actions weren’t my fault.
But, in a lot of ways, they were.
It wasn’t that I would purposely do something to hurt him. I’m not consciously evil. It’s that I wouldn’t think twice and consider that my actions could perhaps hurt him. He was that inconsequential to me.
Ouch.
Time for this incredibly inconsiderate person to eat crow.
Should he have betrayed me for almost a year? Of course not. Is it my fault? Of course not.
Were we operating from a place of love towards one another? Of course not.
My happiness didn’t matter to him. His happiness didn’t matter to me. Neither one of us mattered to the other.
Again…ouch.
I see the wife I was to him. I see it now, at least. Operating from a place of hurt and anger is simply a terrible way to live. And just because his behavior was poor and it did cause me pain and damage, it still doesn’t excuse my shitty behavior. I’m a grown woman capable of making sound decisions. I’m intuitive and bright. I engage in self-reflection. Yet, I chose to play the role of victim and react with venom, adding to the toxic environment. And then I justified it.
Not anymore.
My friend encouraged me to try to finally forgive. And not just my ex. But to take an honest look at my role in this and then forgive myself. He told me that it was an absolutely essential step in my ability to move forward. In the moment of that conversation, I probably looked at him like he was crazy.
But you know what? He’s right. So I have. I am. I’ve already begun to let my hurt go. I’ve come to terms with all the circumstances that have ultimately brought me here, to today, and to writing this blog.
If I want to move forward and continue to grow, if I want to be a positive and loving example to my daughter, and if I want to have any chance at having a healthy relationship in the future, I have to be a good human. And I have to face the realities that, during my marriage and right up until this last Friday night, I was not. And I have to not only forgive him, but I have to forgive myself.
So today, I am at a place where I have hope. I have hope that we can be civil to one another. I have hope that we can respect one another. I have hope that we will be supportive and kind to our future new spouses. I have hope that, someday, all 4 of us will be incredible parents to our marvelous little girl.
I have hope that, from this day forward (or, at least, most of the days that will follow), I will make the daily choice to walk through this life with purposeful intention, acting from a place filled with grace, and of love, which is once again filling my heart.
Crow has never tasted so good.
A Graceful Catastrophe 