Tag: infidelity

life

Choices

A Graceful Catastrophe

The one thing you can’t take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.”

-Viktor E. Frankl

The origins of this quote stem from an entirely different reality but hits home with me nonetheless. Life is simply a series of choices.

Choice is an extremely interesting concept and I think many of us forget exactly how much control over our lives we really do have. We paint the lives we have with our choices every day. It is up to me, and no one else, how I decide to see my world. And for a long time, I chose to focus on the negative in my (ex) husband, so that became the world I lived in.

Because I chose to focus on all of his faults, all of the ways I was treated disrespectfully and hurtfully, all of the times he was either emotionally abusive or manipulative – or both, I painted my (ex) husband as someone who didn’t deserve kindness, much less love, in return.

Every day, for so long it makes me feel uncomfortable, I painted this extremely detailed world – one where I was the victim. I was unloved. I wasn’t enough. I, perhaps with no conscious effort, chose to self-sabotage my marriage.

Those are strong words. But I’ve been nothing but honest here, completely transparent, especially with myself. That’s been my choice of how to process a world that was filled to the brim with lies. I am doing constant and intense self-reflection. When a catastrophe hits your world, there are obviously many ways to handle it. I have chosen to spend a lot of time looking within.

When I chose to take my (ex) husband’s attacks personally, when I chose to react with something so far away from compassion that it hurts me to think of the person I was, I was allowing my world to self-destruct. At any given time, I could have chosen to respond with a gentle, caring heart.

Okay, but really, do you know how hard that would’ve been?! I was quite sick, basically at the level of “functioning adult” and not much more, and was being berated for being an awful wife. I was the butt of the jokes when we hung out with other people. I was humiliated and embarrassed, both publicly and privately. The things that my (ex) husband said to me in in the safety of our home and during our arguments, simply put, cut me to my soul. It would have taken intentional effort to respond with compassion. And I was so exhausted and hurt.

But here’s the kicker. I am so exhausted (emotionally) and hurt now. The pain cuts so deep now, far deeper than it has the last 6 years. I have the same baggage as before – not feeling “enough” – but it’s become sharply intensified since March 17. Yet, despite all of this, I am choosing to live with kindness. I am actively choosing to not react to his anger and hurt and jealousy. I am giving grace. I am doing today what I actively chose not to do before. Every single day, I intentionally choose to treat my (ex) husband with the grace and compassion he doesn’t deserve. I didn’t realize it during the last 6 years, but my choices actively destroyed our marriage. Well, they at least aided to the collapse.

Well, now our marriage is over. Shattered. Completely wrecked. And all that’s left are the people involved. And people deserve grace – even when they don’t.

So now, when my (ex) husband is angry, or hurt, and has the apparent need to lash out, I, rather willingly, become the (figurative) punching bag. I let him throw all the low blows he desires. I barely blink as he says all the things, as he throws words and phrases at me that are laced with so much venom. Because now, I understand how to not take those words personally. The toxicity pouring from his mouth comes from a place so deep inside him that he has no clue where to even find it. It comes from so much childhood and adult trauma. It all comes within him and has very little to actually do with me.

Some of the times, living with the level of intentionality I am choosing to live with just becomes too much – and I mess up. The conscious effort it takes to live with grace becomes overwhelming and I find myself behaving in a manner that is far more how I used to respond to things, rather than how I actively want to respond to them now. Old habits are hard to break and it takes all of the intentionality I can muster, all of the conscious thought and effort, to respond how I want to respond. Sometimes the knee-jerk reaction is still there.

But when you know better, you do better. And now I know better. So I am doing what I can, moment by moment, to do better.

I choose, at every opportunity that I consciously remember to, to give grace. To live with true kindness in my heart. To approach the current relationship we’re in – one now as coparents – with the compassion I consciously refused to give for the last 6 years of our marriage. To be the punching bag.

By leading with grace and kindness, I am actively choosing happiness. By understanding this has so very little to do with me and so much to do with him, I am capable of forgiving him when he chooses to attack me. By consciously self-reflecting, I remember that my choices were not always coming from a place of love and my focus, for so many years, was destructive.

When you know better, you should choose to do better. Today, I choose grace, therefore, I am choosing happiness (and I do strongly believe that happiness is far more choice than it is emotion). Every day, I paint the world I live in with my thoughts and I now refuse to focus on the negative energy that was my focal point for so long.

We must be careful with the choices we make. And we must remember how much control over our choices, over our world, we really do have.

I will actively choose happiness, grace, kindness, and compassion, especially in the moments where those are the hardest to muster. Because I choose to live in a world that is filled with rainbows and butterflies. So that is the world I will paint by choosing my thoughts intentionally and carefully.

We must choose our thoughts and actions wisely. We must be careful to avoid helping to create the catastrophe. And if it’s too late, if catastrophe is already upon you, if your world has already imploded, as it has for me, then choose grace moving forward.

We cannot always choose what happens to us. We can, and absolutely should, choose how we react and move forward. Give yourself grace and especially give it when others don’t deserve it.

life

Happy Husbands Don’t Cheat

A Graceful Catastrophe

UGH…

This weekend has been filled with, well, just moments of “ugh.”

I have not had much grace. I am not being a good friend to him. I’ve been so sad. And the hurt just feels like it has been hurting a bit more these last couple of days. It’s honestly been so hard to keep it together and I’ve had several moments where it was impossible.

When my (ex) husband is home, and he’s being humble, filled with regret, and, therefore, kind, things feel “normal” and normal is super confusing to me. Sometimes, though, when he’s home, he justifies his behavior and utters my newest most hated phrase: “Happy husbands don’t cheat.”

Excuse me while I go rage out and break my other hand…

He traveled last week for work and was only home for about 11 hours between Friday night and Saturday morning before leaving for work again. Eleven hours, most of which were overnight, also happened to be sufficient time to trigger the heck out of me. And rather than respond with grace, I handled it with sarcasm, anger, and bitterness.

*sigh*

I am not always strong, nor am I always the bigger person. Sometimes I am very human and petty emotions get the best of me.

Then he’s gone again, traveling for business. But now I know exactly what he does when he travels for work. While I fully (logically) understand he is no longer my husband, I still struggle with his actions, though I now have no right to, since we aren’t really married anymore.

So it kind of all just breaks my brain. And my heart? Forget about it.

On Thursday he comes home again. Just in time to help me with our daughter’s birthday party, where we will entertain her (our) guests, together, like we have for the last 8 birthday parties. Except this time will be our last time. Next year, he’ll have his own place and I will host by myself. He’ll merely be a guest.

We’ll officially be a broken family.

God, that sentence hurts.

Logically, I get that we weren’t happy. We hadn’t been happy for a long time. There were many times where we barely liked one another – and it was obvious to the both of us. In a lot of ways, we’d both given up on the marriage.

But we’d started seeing a marriage therapist. I was working on changing my mindset, trying to focus on the good he brought to my world, rather than all the little (and big) ways he annoyed, hurt, and angered me. I was seeking advice on how to make our marriage work from anywhere I could get it. I wanted our marriage to work.

He didn’t.

The bottom line is that he wanted to do something so terrible that it would make me stop fighting for our marriage. He wanted out. I can’t help but continuously feel that I wasn’t worth fighting for. Our family wasn’t worth fighting for. And when he justifies his actions by blaming me, a very tiny part of me believes him. Because our marriage was really difficult.

Then I snap out of it. It doesn’t happen for long – me believing him. But then I get so mad for allowing myself to be manipulated that I end up handling the situation quite poorly. And then I feel guilty!

Ugh!

So, then I apologize because I am supposed to be living my life with grace. I am supposed to be understanding and forgiving. These are the bars that I have set for myself. This is how I am supposed to behave because it’s honestly the way I want to behave. It’s easy to respond with grace and class when he’s being humble and apologetic. It is so very, very hard when he convinces himself that I pushed him to cheat.

Because, he tells me, happy husbands don’t cheat.

*Deep breath in. Long, slow breath out.*

I believe I am on this path purposefully. I don’t believe that anything happens to us by accident. And it’s very obvious that I need to practice the act of giving grace to those who don’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of grace. He especially doesn’t deserve it when he utters the stupidest sentence I have ever heard.

So, I continue to have opportunities to practice. I’m not great at it yet. I’m not even mediocre at it yet. I’m actually quite poor at giving him grace when he doesn’t deserve it. Which means I’m sure I’m going to be presented with many more opportunities to practice being kind, understanding, compassionate, and forgiving. This is my chance to grow and be a better human.

I want to be a better human. So when he comes home on Thursday, I’m sure I will get an abundance of chances to practice giving grace and I will try oh, so very hard to embrace them.

I have to remember that he is broken. Anyone who believes the sentence, “Happy husbands don’t cheat,” must be tragically damaged. Whether or not he is going to work at fixing all of his broken pieces is up to him. It’s only up to me to give him the grace he doesn’t deserve.

So that is exactly what I will try to do, in between taking deep breaths to calm the rage inside when he says stupid things.

I know that one day, some beautiful day sometime in the future, I will be happier, and it’ll be because of this journey. Until then, I will make a conscious effort to embrace the low moments, remembering that it is through this pain and adversity that I will grow.

Mindset is everything and I have to choose to see this catastrophe as a gift he has given me. Seeing it through any other lens turns me into someone I don’t really care for and while I get that it’ll happen every now and then, I don’t have to live in that space. I refuse to.

This weekend has been challenging. That’s just the way this chapter is going to go. There’s no getting around crappy days. As I sit back right now, finishing up these last few sentences, and taking a deep cleansing breath, I’m ready to try to move forward again. Despite having all the reasons to hold onto my anger and hurt and disappointment, I will consciously move forward with compassion and grace for him.

For no reason other than I want to be better. I want to do better.

And so I will try my best, in all the moments, but especially the ones that are awful, to give grace to the man that believes, “Happy husbands don’t cheat.”

life

Honesty

A Graceful Catastrophe

I have been cautioned by some that I am saying too much, being too forward, and perhaps being a bit too transparent.

If you’ve met me, you know that I am not one to follow the rules of convention. It’s never been my style.

Societal rules tell us we should suffer in silence and put on a happy face. The problems we face should never be publicly displayed.

But why?!

We all have problems. We all have storms we’re valiantly trying to combat. Why is it perceived as a weakness to tell others that we’re struggling? Or that we’re facing challenges? Or that we’re unsure from one moment to the next whether or not we’re emotionally strong enough to keep fighting the good fight?

Perhaps it was the magnitude of my (ex) husband’s dishonesty. Perhaps it’s that I’m almost 40 and really pretty damn confident and just really don’t care what others think of me. But these moments of my life are being lived über honestly. If some stranger in the grocery store sees that my eyes have tears in them because grocery shopping was something we both enjoyed doing together and now I wander the aisles alone and she takes a moment to ask if I’m okay, she’d better grab herself some popcorn and have a seat, because I’m talking.

In some cultures, they don’t ask others how they’re doing unless they have 20 minutes to listen to the response. But here, it’s taboo.

Well, taboo schmaboo. We should all care how our fellow neighbor is doing. And we should all live authentic and honest lives. It is not a burden on others to share how you’re feeling and we, as a society, really need to change our mindset on that.

If I were trying to handle life since March 17th on my own, trying to put on a brave face and stumble through the day to day without ruffling anyone else’s feathers, I’m sure I’d be a broken disaster.

It has been so incredibly freeing to lean on others, to scream about my pain from the mountain tops, to speak honestly that life has been more than just hard.

I refuse to live silently.

Lies of omission are still lies. And I will not omit my life, my truth, from anyone – especially not from those who ask.

So, please listen to what I am saying: listen intently and with purpose. Your pain is not your burden to grasp tightly to yourself. I love you. Strangers love you. Seriously. I have received more love from strangers in the last 40 days than I probably have in my entire life combined. And it’s been beautiful. It’s reaffirmed my faith in humanity. People are good. Abundantly good.

People inherently want to help. They want to make others smile. Let them listen to you. Share your pain with someone other than yourself. If it makes you uncomfortable, start with those that love you the most. Then share with acquaintances. Before long, you, too, will be sharing with the stranger in the grocery store aisle.

Starting as soon as you read this, make this promise to yourself: I refuse to live silently.

Whisper it. Then scream it. You deserve to be heard. Your pain is valid. Live it. Feel it. Honor it.

Do not omit your life. Live authentically, ugly crying and all. An honest life is a free life. And we should all live freely. So, I am sending you, any of you in pain, all my love. Feel it and know that I am here for you.

Refuse to live silently.

life

Lucky

A Graceful Catastrophe

I am lucky.

Yes, sure, I am going through some things right now and processing this chapter of my life has been interesting, to say the least. I’m on a wild ride with my emotions, my hand is slowly healing, and my (ex) husband has been so kind that it’s confusing. I’m constantly having to re-evaluate my boundaries and remind myself that life as I once knew it has forever changed. While daily moments feel “normal,” they aren’t.

Yet, I’m lucky.

I have an incredible community that surrounds me with love and continuously lifts me up. I have friends that run away on spontaneous vacations with me. I have friends that, even after well over a month, still check in on me. The families I work for are the most understanding and giving people. My incredibly sweet neighbors surprise me with the most delicious chocolate chip cookies. My parents constantly worry about me and remind me daily that they are there for me and my daughter. My friends and followers on social media, from all over the world, send me messages that they’re thinking of me and make sure I am okay. Today, my house is cleaner and more organized than it has been in months, thanks to two incredibly hard working women. My gym family pushes me through killer workouts so I can keep working on having both a fit body and fit mind. And even my doctor and all the medical staff at the orthopedic group I go to care about me and give me hugs when I go for my check ups. Everyone wants to help.

I hear stories about women who’ve been cheated on and how their spouses responded to getting caught. It’s not pretty. I’m so fortunate that when my (ex) husband’s two worlds collided, it humbled him. He’s been validating me. He’s been complimentary on how I’m handling all of this. He’s being a wonderful father. He knows he needs help and wants it. He’s actually been reflective (he’s never been reflective).

Today, I am happy. Better yet, I’m rather at peace with what has happened. Grateful. I think this is what was necessary to jolt me (us) awake.

So often, we (married couples) get caught in negative cycles and get stuck, both unwilling and unknowing how to get out. My (ex) husband’s actions were equivalent to someone grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me – hard. And actually, now that it’s out in the open, I’d say the same is true for him.

We’re both very much awake.

Which means we can work to do better. Albeit, now as individuals.

And that makes me smile.

Whatever the future has in store for him, for me, for my daughter, I think it’ll be good. We’ll always be a family but we won’t necessarily always be together. And that is okay. Eventually it’ll probably be better than okay.

Today the waves are calmer. And because I fully understand that these moments don’t linger, I’m taking the time to pause and soak it in.

Today, I am grateful for my (ex) husband’s infidelity. My world was shaken, straight down to its core. He lied and manipulated for almost a year. And because of that, I’ve taken honesty to the next level. I want to be the polar opposite of who he was (is?). I am currently living my most honest and authentic life. To me, lying has always been the most despicable character trait. Nothing ever made me more mad than encountering a liar. And here I was, married to one. Yet, oddly enough, I’m finding myself grateful for that very attribute.

Him, having the most loathsome of character flaws, is giving me the opportunity to practice grace and be understanding to an extent I’ve never been able to truly practice before. I consider myself to be patient and kind. I’ve also always found it difficult to forgive a liar.

There has never been a better occasion for me to practice forgiveness. To truly give grace to someone who least deserves it.

His indiscretions are helping me grow to be a me that I may have never been able to become without this adversity.

I sit here and really cannot believe that I’m even feeling this – I’m actually grateful that my husband cheated on me?! And not just, like, an oops, one time thing, but months and months of it?

Yes, I am.

I have been given a chance to practice being a better human. What an amazing opportunity.

I am lucky this happened now. And so very grateful. Since I’m still relatively young, this skill set I am working on mastering is going to serve me well for the next 40 or 50 years of my life.

Maybe this is how we all should approach life’s catastrophes. Mindset is everything. If we look at the events in our lives that shake us to our cores as opportunities to grow, to reflect, to be better humans on this Earth, then we can stop questioning why it happened to us. We don’t have to be victims. We can be incredibly strong and beautiful people, with the capacity to forgive, to give grace, and to love, fully and unconditionally – and not only for others, but, perhaps more importantly, for ourselves, too.

Wouldn’t you want to live in that type of world? I do.

So I will not be bitter. I will stop asking why he did this to our family. I’ll stop feeling like he threw me away. I’ll stop wondering if I’ll ever be enough. I’ll live each day as best as I can (giving myself grace when I make my own mistakes, too).

Look, I am fully aware that today is a good day. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll read this blog and laugh because it’s so “butterflies and rainbows.” Nonetheless, I feel strongly that I am supposed to use this as an opportunity to grow.

Tonight, I will rest better than I have in over a month.

Because tonight, I am going to sleep with a mindset focused on gratitude.

I am really so very lucky.

life

The Wave

A Graceful Catastrophe

Not even 2 hours before I started writing this, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a glimmer of happiness in my eyes, a speck of hope. As I walked past the mirror just now, before sitting down to write, I just saw pain and hurt staring back at me.

Depending on when you talk to me, I’m having a great day, an okay day, or a difficult day. And all three could occur (and have) in a matter of 20 minutes.

I think the most difficult part of where I currently am in this journey are the triggers – especially since I don’t know what they are or when they’ll hit.

Tonight, I came home from Target and we were both in the kitchen, making a snack. We talked about watching something together on T.V. I was in a great mood and so was he. And then he made a joke, which, while under “normal” circumstances would’ve been harmless, it wasn’t at all a joke to me. It triggered me and I began to quietly spiral.

For the next hour or so, I played this movie in my head, filled with imaginary scenes I concocted as thoughts of his indiscretions rained upon my brain in a sudden downpour. He must’ve noticed because he came over and asked if I wanted to talk, or yell, or stab him with the fork I was using (he likes to make jokes when he doesn’t know what else to do).

I told him, with pain and sadness dripping from my voice, that this was just part of the process. I ride the wave. If grief strikes, or anger, or loads of disgust, I try to feel every bit of it. I have to. I don’t dare stifle the emotions, or try to bury them, or else they’ll surely continue to haunt me, years into the future. And I definitely don’t want that to happen.

You see, I fully understand with my logical brain that I am on a roller coaster that has no end in sight. I feel like I have embraced this; I am on a journey at sea and am at the mercy of the waves. Sometimes the sea is calm and in those moments, I feel legitimately strong, hopeful, and happy. Other times, though…man! It’s like I’m riding through the craziest storm. I mean, we’re talking Cat 5 hurricane. And my poor boat is being rocked so hard that I don’t have a clue how I’m even holding on. How is it possible that I haven’t yet drowned?

I’m exhausted at times, so emotionally drained, just from hanging on.

And that is okay. I am perfectly fine being broken right now, picking up my pieces one by one and learning how they will now all fit back together. I will not be okay still struggling to find peace with all of this years down in the future. Now is the time to face it and deal with it, so I can move forward with a newfound strength I still don’t fully realize I have.

And so I workout. I write. Sometimes I talk. And a lot of times, I just process alone.

And I ride the wave.

*This was written at night on 4/22/2019, but then I fell asleep. *shrug*

life

34 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

It’s been 34 days since I found out my husband had been cheating on me since last May. It’s really quite incredible how much can occur in a mere 34 days. And it’s even more amazing how much one can process and grow after experiencing trauma.

I learned that I am capable of emotions I didn’t even think were real. I’ve learned that I am capable of choosing how to digest life. I’ve learned that I can have completely different answers to the same questions, depending on the day, and sometimes the hour, and fully believe that each answer is accurate, though they may be polar opposites. I’ve learned that I can be forgiving in a situation I once judged the heck out of and I’ve learned that PTSD can come in moments as simple as receiving an email notification.

I’ve been uplifted by my community, showered with generosity at levels that have made me cry, been hugged and supported more times than a person should need in just 34 days. I have felt genuine and beautiful love from people who were complete strangers 6 months ago and caring, sweet concern and love from people I’ve known since childhood. My immediate family has rallied behind me, showing me unconditional love by just being there to listen.

I broke my hand and have felt no physical pain, yet experienced emotional pain that cut through my soul. I’ve laughed wonderfully one minute, then ugly cried the next minute. I went from wishing my (ex) husband were dead to hugging him and crying with him, and trying to be empathetic with him about his pain.

All in 34 days.

The 27 or so hours that occurred between this last Thursday night and Friday night were some of the most difficult yet. The mindset I’d chosen after coming back from North Carolina this last Monday has treated me well. I liked the space I was entering. I felt mentally and emotionally strong.

And then something happened that triggered my (ex) husband, something that caused an interesting array of feelings to suddenly appear.

You see, in order to do what he did to me, his head space was such that he didn’t love me anymore. Because no one who actually adores their partner would ever do something like that, over and over again, for almost a year. He didn’t even care about me.

Or so he thought. He realized, late Thursday night, early Friday morning, that he does care about me deeply. He may still love me. And has been consumed with self-hatred, regret, and shame since. He’s finally feeling a fraction of the hurt I feel. He’s discovered empathy.

This has been so hard for me.

You don’t stop loving your husband immediately when something like this happens. Perhaps some people do, but I sure didn’t. He’s a good person, he has a great heart, and he’s the father of my child. So, I had to shut down that love. I had to turn it off. It’s not that I’ve fallen out of love, it’s that I had to bury the love in order to maintain a semblance of sanity.

I also stopped focusing on the pain of the betrayal. I buried the person he was to me. His role as husband was officially dead. Instead, I chose to consciously see him as the person he is to me – still the father of my child and someone who has all the potential to be a great friend. By changing his definition, by choosing to focus my thoughts differently, is how I’ve been able to gracefully move forward. My newly constructed mindset is still quite fluid, though. I’m still grieving, and some days, living through those day to day moments is still a struggle. I am very much still in survivor mode. I’m just here for the journey, riding the wave until the seas calm.

And then the full realization of not only his actions, but his feelings he’d buried so deep, come boiling to the surface, exploding out in such an emotional burst, that it took us both by surprise.

How do I process that?! This doesn’t fit in my nice little mindset frame that I built.

So, yesterday I tried handling it by working out until I was stupid (does anyone else turn dumb after intense workouts?? Is that a thing? Seriously, inquiring minds want to know…), because feeling physical pain and exhaustion is far easier to comprehend than emotional pain and exhaustion. And today I worked out again, pushing my body to its limits, causing me to feel that euphoric high that occurs when you crush a goal.

And you know what? I’m processing it all much better today.

Add that to the list of things I’ve learned in the last 34 days: having a healthy outlet to turn to when the emotions just get too much is life saving. Without exercise, without the community at my gym, I don’t know where I’d be. Having a healthy response (exercising) to wild emotions helps keep me from *accidentally* breaking my bones. I know, a shocking concept, right? *eyeroll*

After my last workout of the day today, my head felt less foggy, my emotions less erratic. My mindset has changed a bit – again – focusing now on the hope that through this pain and trauma, both of us will become better people. We can’t change the past, the choices that were already made, but we can surely focus on becoming better humans. We can both choose to move forward with grace.

David Crosby wrote about pain that was beautiful, really. He said, essentially, that “your pain is changing you.” There is no doubt that this pain is changing the both of us.

This chapter of my life is a full on storm filled with blinding pain and, therefore, an abundance of opportunities to show grace and compassion. I feel that I am a completely different person today than I was 35 days ago. At first I was sad when the old me died, as she was very good to me. Now, in just this short period of time, I’m finding I love the new me even more. Already.

Imagine what 68 days from now will look like. A full year. I don’t know why I’m on this path but there is a purpose to it. Nothing happens to us by accident.

So I, as best as I can, now embrace the trauma. I am grateful for the pain. Without the last 34 days, I would’ve never been who I am now becoming.

We all live through storms, some of our storms are more like a Cat 5 hurricane, some just a quick thunderstorm passing by. One is not greater than the other, all storms come with moments to embrace the ugly and hurt and turn it into something beautiful.

We just have to frame our mindset to see the beauty, rather than the pain. While I fully acknowledge that this isn’t possible all the time, I’ve learned that mindset is everything. We paint our world with our thoughts…and then have to live in that world. Why not make it full of rainbows and butterflies?

So, as you navigate your storms, both present and future, choose your thoughts wisely. As will I.

And always remember, we are all stronger than we think. We all have the ability to overcome.

My strength, currently, comes from reflecting on how much has happened, how much I’ve changed in just 34 days. It gives me hope for the next day, as that is all I can focus on right now. This storm has already lessened in its intensity and I know I’ve already grown exponentially.

I have hope for tomorrow again.

And it’s only been 34 days.

life

Perspective

A Graceful Catastrophe
Just because I’m right doesn’t mean you’re wrong.

After a weekend away, visiting with friends (and drinking entirely too much), I feel more balanced. I was ready to come home from this trip and I’m starting to get to a place where I’m accepting my reality. Before, I focused on the hurt, in disbelief that this is now my life: 2 failed marriages, a daughter that’s going to grow up in 2 homes, and trying to figure out how not to take the cheating personally.

Now that it’s been about a month, I’m a bit further removed from the hurt. I’m gaining perspective. (*I know this is how I’m feeling today, right now, in this moment and that these jumbled emotions are ever-changing. I also think I’m getting pretty decent at embracing the flood and riding the waves.*)

Today is one of those days where I think my (ex) husband and I will be pretty darn amazing friends one day. Perhaps sooner than later. When I got home tonight, he asked me about my weekend. I shared the ridiculous stories and then he shared his ridiculous evening he had on Saturday. Then, somehow, we found ourselves navigating through a conversation about his infidelity. This isn’t all that uncommon.

For years, we were not the spouses to one another that we should’ve been. When we moved to Colorado, my (ex) husband became quite depressed. With his depression came anger. He was so mean and mad and short-tempered. Rather than have compassion, I became colder. I remember driving home one day, talking with one of my BFF’s, and complaining about how awfully I was being treated. She called me out and said I wasn’t being a supportive wife. Well, of course I wasn’t because I wasn’t liking how I was being treated. Rather than respond with grace, class, and understanding, I turned angry and dismissive.

Because all I wanted was a husband who cherished me.

I wanted to feel loved and since I wasn’t, I started to withhold my love. I’m sure it wasn’t a conscious decision at first. Though after being called out, I didn’t try to improve either. I was so frustrated with how I was being treated that I felt justified in my actions.

Hearing my (ex) husband talk about what transpired is interesting. He knows he did a terrible thing. He knows he is going to have to deal with the consequences for the rest of his life. But during those difficult years, he also just wanted a wife that cherished him. He also felt unloved. He also chose to respond to me with more anger and more frustration.

We were caught up in a terribly vicious cycle that has brought us to where we are today.

We were two people, sad and frustrated for pretty much the same reasons. I think that he knew I wouldn’t quit the marriage, I wasn’t going to throw away the family. Back in September, I decided to give it an honest go, to quit being so angry and stubborn, to be the one that tried. But my efforts went unnoticed because he was already long gone. I was too late in shoving my stubbornness and hurt and anger aside. He’d already done something so awful that, when I found out, quitting the marriage was the only option.

Please don’t misunderstand my message here. I’m not blaming myself for his infidelity, nor am I justifying it. Rather, at least up until last May, we had many missed opportunities to fix what was broken.

I was screaming 6 while he was screaming 9. We were both right. We were both hurt. We were both pretty terrible spouses. Neither of us wanted to take a moment to walk around to the other’s side. Had we taken an honest look, perhaps we wouldn’t be filling out separation paperwork right now.

If there’s anything to learn from this, it is to desperately try to not judge a situation or a person’s actions. Take a walk around and visit it from their angle. Why are they behaving as they are? What do they see from their perspective? Every single person has their own viewpoint, so why is it so hard for us to try and see the world from their view? How arrogant I was, to only have seen my side.

I thought I was an understanding person. I thought I was non-judgmental. But this whole time, for well over the last 5 years, I was giving the person I was supposed to love the most the least slack. I let his actions harden me.

I’m not doing that anymore. At least, not consciously. I want to lead with grace. To come from a place of understanding. To live assuming the best in others.

I hope that if you’re reading this, if you’re connecting to these words in any way, that you reach out to the person who doesn’t deserve your grace. It’s so much easier to judge than it is to understand (as my dad says), but wouldn’t you want to know that you gave everything you had to fix what’s broken? I have no fault in the infidelity, but I do have plenty of fault in being in a difficult marriage. I could’ve been the bigger person. I could’ve stopped being stubborn. I could’ve shown an ounce of compassion to my husband, who was struggling immensely with the move. I didn’t.

I just kept shouting 6.

Get out of that negative cycle that perpetuates a difficult relationship. Be the one to step forward with love, no matter how angry and justified you are.

Stop shouting 6.

life

Strength

A Graceful Catastrophe

You really have no idea how you’re going to respond to something until it happens to you. And even when it does happen to you, you still have no idea how to respond, your emotions are all over the place and change constantly.

So many people, almost everyone that I’ve told this story to, have commented on how strong I am to be handling it the way I am. On one hand, when I hear their words and read their comments, I am reminded that I am strong. I will survive this, of course. Coming out of this a stronger and wiser woman is the only option.

But then, just a half of a second later, I feel like such a fraud.

I mean, I lost my mind and punched a column in my kitchen so hard, or maybe it’s that it was so many times, that I displaced my pinky bone up and about a centimeter away from my knuckle. My doctor said that I broke it “worse than horrible,” (seriously, those were his words). Even after surgery, it’s still not lined up where it ought to be. The doc said it was just too broken to make it line up perfectly again. My pinky will never be quite right again. When people say I’m strong, I’m pretty sure this is not the strength they are referring to…

How can so many someones say I am strong, implying having emotional strength, when I do something like that?! That was a pure moment of weakness.

My life is filled with moments of weakness lately. Guys, I cry. I can be doing any random, mundane task and then find myself with tears running down my cheeks. I’m so tired but I cannot sleep. I struggle to have any motivation to do anything. I just want to lay down and forget my reality.

But I don’t.

I plaster a smile on my face until I believe it’s real. I go through the motions of living until they are exactly what I want to be doing.

Perhaps this is what people see; why it is they say that I’m strong.

But if I’m so strong, then why is it all still so confusing? I should know exactly how I feel about my (ex) husband. (What a dirtbag, right?)

Yet here I am, so very confused when it comes to him. We spent almost exactly 11 years together. We have a daughter together. We laughed so much together. Once upon a time, we had a beautiful and intense love for one another. I should hate him, but I don’t.

Our marriage was hard. And, as it turns out, he is someone that doesn’t do “hard.”
He’s a good person who did an atrociously disgusting thing the second he decided that to remain an active participant as a husband was just too much effort for him.

It’s easy to love when life is simple. When we met, life was one giant party. As time went on, our lives became more complicated, there were many obstacles to maneuver. We had a child. We moved to a different state. I became so sick that it severely impacted both my life and our marriage (though I hid the extent of it all from the outside world. Perhaps that is why I’m choosing to be so transparent now. I’m quite tired of hiding.). Some of these obstacles were willingly added into our lives. Others were not. Life was hard, and getting harder everyday. Loving one another became this thing that took so much effort. Nothing about our marriage felt easy. As the days passed, more and more moments seemed to take extra work. Until it became almost all of the moments taking effort. And a lot of it.

But why give up? What makes someone decide his marriage is too exhausting to keep trying to work on it? What is so horrible that makes his wife not valuable enough to fight for? That one hurts. So much. I was not valued. I wasn’t worth fighting for. You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that his infidelity has nothing to do with me. Logically, I know that. Yet, I still struggle with not being enough. If I were enough, in his eyes, we wouldn’t be here today.

So there it is. The great big, ugly truth. These thoughts are not strong.

Now, I can keep myself mostly together when I’m in public. I don’t really like to talk about these depths, to speak them out loud gives them more power than I’d like them to have. I know you mostly see the side I am desperately trying to be. But I also want you to know that the struggle is real.

So you see, I am no stronger than you. Any of you could handle this exact situation if you had to (boy, do I hope you never have to sift through these layers of emotion, though!) and you could do so in a manner that would also impress others.

When you see me, and you think I am being so strong, understand that this strength solely comes from keeping my eye on the prize – making sure my daughter is minimally impacted by this situation. My daughter needs a strong female influence. She needs to understand her value comes from within. I don’t ever want her to feel like she isn’t enough. I want her to know she is always “enough.” And by convincing her, I just may convince myself.

Most days, I don’t feel all that strong…but I’m trying to be. I’m taking this all moment by moment. I just wish those moments could not include him right now. Having him in the house is just about the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to deal with on a pretty regular basis and I also know that having him there is making me grow at an exponential speed.

Seeing the man that I once loved and having him replaced by this stranger that caused me more pain than I realized I could take, day in and day out, is pretty awful. Some moments I can’t bear to look him in the eye and others, I long for him to just hold me close. I’m not entirely sure how long I can ride the roller coaster having him home takes me on. Or perhaps this will eventually become my new normal and all these emotions will calm down and fade. We’ll settle into a new routine that does not cause me such anguish.

Time will tell.

And in time, I will come to believe your words, your affirmations, your belief that I am strong. Just know, I am writing this to tell you it’s not easy and sometimes I feel like a fraud because I do not feel as strong as you think I am. That strength you see almost always has some emptiness behind it.

Even so, I appreciate the uplifting comments and feel free to keep them coming. They serve as reminders that I am strong. That I am enough. And I need all the reminders that I can get these days.

And just one last thing: don’t walk away just because it’s hard, whatever “it” is defined as for you. Decide it’s worth fighting for and go all in.

Love genuinely. Love hard. And think about this in all your difficult moments:

Love must mean so much more when it exists through the “hard.”

-Katrina

Someday, I’ll know this to be true.

life

Class & Grace

A Graceful Catastrophe

When the shit hits the fan, it splatters all over everything. Some days it just feels like you accidentally stepped a toe in it. Some days it feels like you’re drowning in it, gagging on it with every breath you try to take.

Today, I’m drowning.

There are exactly 86,400 seconds in a day. I’m sleeping somewhere around 5 or 6 hours a night lately, so let’s subtract 21,600 seconds (6 hours). That’s 64,800 waking seconds. That means that I have to remind myself to live with class and grace about 3,240 times every day. That’s about 3 times a minute.

Okay, I may be exaggerating a smidge, but not by much.

It is a constant battle, raging inside, to be gracious, to be understanding and compassionate…. I’ve learned today that sometimes not causing my (ex) husband any physical pain is actually an act of class and grace. Sometimes I have to very loosely define what it is to act with class and grace, and I have also learned that loose definitions are okay.

On good days, acting with a bit of a higher bar, a more classic definition of class and grace, is simple. Some days, it’s really so easy. Some days I feel like we really could be friends, that he can live right there in the basement for the next 8 years. And then some days, like today, my interactions with him are anything but classy and I think it’d be great if he left right this second. And then there are those days where I think one way for 5 minutes, another way for the next 20 minutes, and then I’m a puddle, crying for the next 30. I have very little control over anything right now, much less my emotions. I’m just kind of along for the ride.

Which is why I have to be intentional and tell myself about 3,240 times a day to give grace. More often than not, it’s usually said out loud, in a stern voice, and with significant volume.

Acting with class and grace through this, while trying to raise a strong, independent, and happy child, sometimes feels like the most impossible thing to do. I have worked my tail off for almost 9 years to make sure I am raising her right. So far, so good. My daughter is caring, clever, and has lofty goals, with even bigger dreams. It is my absolute nightmare that anything that is going on around her undoes all of my hard work.

Let me explain really quickly why I say “my hard work” because that was intentionally written. I was chatting with a friend these last few days and she calls it “being the heavy.” I have done the vast majority of the hard stuff for my daughter’s whole life. I am consistent, predictable, and firm. And she has thrived. I am not the “fun parent.” I do the “heavy lifting.” I’m the one raising a child into someone who will be a productive member of our society. I mean, she wants to go to MIT! The road to MIT starts now and she understands fully that actions have consequences. I’ve told her since she was barely a toddler that “good things happen to people who make good decisions…and the opposite of that is also true.”

So, she works hard to make good decisions. My greatest fear is that I will inadvertently ruin the work of the last almost 9 years by mishandling this situation. I’m an adult and am having a hard enough time processing what is happening! How in the world will she end up absorbing the end of her parent’s marriage? Thankfully, she is being spared the details, but you hear all the time how divorce changes children, and because she has no clue why, it’s all very sudden and confusing to her.

Which is why I initially thought it’d be best for my daughter to have daddy around, still living in the house, even though that is the most difficult thing for me. I can’t stand seeing him. I see a stranger where my husband once was. He’s not even remotely close to the person I thought he was – in fact, he’s exactly the person I was convinced he’d never be. And I have to see him anytime he’s not traveling for business and for now, that’s just about the hardest, most awful thing for me.

But then I see my daughter’s happiness when she sees him here first thing in the morning. And all that felt impossible feels possible once again. For her. So she is minimally affected. It’s not about me, really. I’m an adult with an incredible community. I can suck it up. And while my daughter may be able to as well, I just don’t know that for certain. So, for now, he stays. I’m the heavy. And because I’m the heavy, every decision I make is run through the filter of how it will affect my daughter. It’s all for her.

Which is exactly what has kept me from lashing out against my (ex) husband. Thank you, my sweet child of mine. And I’m sure your daddy thanks you, too. It’s quite shocking, really. I never thought I’d be someone capable of even thinking about hurting a living being but extreme trauma and pain make you think in some really intense ways. So, for today, the simple decision to not act upon the desire to cause great physical pain is the loose definition of me acting with class and grace. It’s all I can muster at this point.

Thankfully, I know tomorrow will be a better day because tomorrow will be a busy one, as I get back into my routine and away from vacation mode. Busy is good. And because mindset is everything, it will be one where more hope lies, one where I will once again believe with all my heart that children are resilient and I won’t “ruin” my daughter with whatever decisions I make regarding this messy, shitty situation.

Hopefully tomorrow, only a toe gets in the shit.

life

A Graceful Catastrophe

A Graceful Catastrophe

Google defines “graceful” as having or showing grace or elegance. Grace, in the way I am wanting to use it, is then defined as:

  • courteous goodwill
  • an attractively polite manner of behaving.

Catastrophe is defined by Google as:

  • an event causing great and often sudden damage or suffering; a disaster.

Despite suffering a pretty major catastrophe, with disastrous results, I am now choosing to live my life filled with grace towards others. Starting with my (ex) husband.

I didn’t get to this point immediately, though. I am currently typing this with a “boxer’s fracture” in my right hand. If you don’t know what that is, it is most commonly referred to as a break in the pinky finger, typically occurring after punching something.

You may not know me, so, let me quickly describe myself. I am an eternal optimist. I describe myself as being filled with rainbows and sunshine. I struggle killing insects – even mosquitoes. I am not, generally speaking, impulsive or violent.

However, the mind’s response is quite fascinating when presented with stress.

On March 17th, while at a dinner party for St. Patrick’s Day, a catastrophe struck in the middle of my heart. My home, as I knew it, was destroyed. I received an email from a stranger at 6:08 pm, telling me my husband has been leading a double life for over 6 months. See, he’s a stereotypical traveling salesman, who decided that turning to Ashley Madison was the way to fix an unhappy marriage. In a way, he was right. He is no longer in an unhappy marriage because we are no longer married. (I mean, we haven’t quite sorted things out to be legally separated, but that’s strictly a technicality.)

The rage and fury within was something I didn’t realize I was capable of, and, to be perfectly honest, I thought that extent of emotion was only real in movies. On Day 4, I lost my ever loving mind. I went into a complete blind rage (that’s totally a thing, by the way). I hated him with every cell in my body and in that moment, I wanted to hurt him. Like, really, really hurt him. I thought about attacking him but somehow ended up punching a column in the kitchen a few times instead. I didn’t really realize what I was doing. I actually don’t really remember much about those moments. He’d said something that triggered me and that was the end of any rational thought.

So, I broke my pinky bone bad enough that a few days later, I had surgery. I now have a significantly bulky cast on my hand that happens to slow down typing tremendously. *sigh*

But, a curious thing happened. My rage is gone. My hate is gone. And it happened instantly. Punching the wall, breaking my hand, was, simply put, cathartic. All the anger, rage, and fury flew out of my body through my fist. Immediately after it happened, I literally felt flooded with an inner peace. It was incredible.

I’ve heard that the people who least deserve grace are the ones who most deserve it. My ex-husband does not deserve grace. Yet, that is exactly what I am choosing to give him. He is still the father of my child, who is a sweet and innocent bystander in this catastrophe. She’s watching me and is ridiculously conscious of my every move. While she doesn’t quite understand yet, my actions are showing her how to handle pain and trauma. How to respond to those that hurt you. Revenge isn’t the answer. And surely hate only hurts the one who harbors it.

Love is always the answer.

I am hurt, disappointed, and awfully sad. Someone is going to cause my daughter to feel those exact emotions. How do I want her to handle herself when that time comes? I know one thing for sure, I definitely do not want her spinning into a blind rage where she becomes someone, even momentarily, that scares her. I don’t want her to realize she’s capable of such dark and ugly thoughts. I want her initial response to be that of grace and compassion.

So that is exactly what I am showing her. I’ve learned so much about myself in the days since March 17th. Some of which scared me and shook me to my core. Who knew I was potentially capable of such evil? Is that living deep within all of us?

It may have come about 4 days late, and my broken hand is an undeniable part of my story now. Though I believe it is there as a conscious reminder that I have to intentionally choose to live through this catastrophe gracefully. This deliberate way of living is for my daughter just as much as it is for myself.

We all have choices as to how we handle the difficult situations life throws at us. Please be sure you choose wisely. I will, too, as I will now consciously choose to live life with grace and class…(and muscles. But that’s for another blog. *wink*)