lies – A Graceful Catastrophe

731 Days

March 17, 2021 A Graceful Catastrophe

731 days. That’s a big number. That’s a whole lot of time. 17,544 hours.

2 years.

It’s been 2 years since I found out that my ex had cheated on me. Some of you may be thinking to yourself, “Oh, my goodness, get over it already.”

But you see, I am. That is not the point of this blog. This is an anniversary date. One that will always be remembered, but there is no more pain, hurt, or grief attached to it. This is merely a moment I am using to pause and to reflect.

Just like I would on my birthday. Or any other milestone anniversary.

You’d think that a lot of lessons could be learned in over a million minutes. 1,052,640 minutes to be exact.

And it’s true. I have learned a lot. And at the same time, I have been just as naïve as ever. I believed what was told to me…which I am learning is just about the dumbest thing. Nobody tells the truth. Nobody is completely raw, vulnerable, or truly authentic. We are human and we will always protect ourselves first. And people always have something to hide, thoughts they are unwilling to voice.

Today, a song lyric popped into my head.

"...the day the music died."

That’s today.

The music died today. Today I realized that “truth” is a figment of my imagination. “Truth” is only as valid as the belief system of the person delivering it. It’s all to be taken with a grain of salt. It’s all based on perspective. One person’s “truth” is based on how s/he perceives the world. There is no such thing as “truth,” really. How naïve of me to have believed that people are able to ever be fully honest with others – especially if they cannot be fully honest with themselves. Some pain is too devastating to face. So you lie to be able to live.

Then, in some rare flashes, when a truth is screaming to surface, it becomes impossible to stifle even a moment longer. It’s funny what comes to light after being suppressed for so long. It’s funny how people lie to themselves in order to live in this imaginary world they’ve convinced themselves is reality.

It’s funny how I’ve continuously lied to myself in order to live in a world I desperately wanted to believe in.

But life is no fairytale. I know this better than I wish I did. I have been continuously lying to myself to construct a world I hoped existed. I convinced myself it did. I truly believed it did.

I listened to the song (it’s American Pie by Don McLean, if you didn’t recognize the lyric earlier) on my drive home – twice. It’s a long song, about 7.5 minutes. Another lyric popped out, “Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died?”

A lot was revealed 2 years ago. A great deal more was revealed today. Actually, today probably symbolizes more to me now than that moment I received the email 2 years ago.

All I can do is continue to reflect, continue making the difficult choice to grow. Though, my perspective today is vastly different than it was even yesterday. Experiences change us. Time does, too.

I’m finally beginning to see the world as it is, rather than as I’d hoped it was.

I’m at the point, after 2 years of growth and reflection and experiences and pain and trauma, of just truly abandoning anything I believed to be a self-truth, and simply breathing in and out and being. Nothing really matters – and I don’t say this with sadness, but with logic. In the long run, nothing really has the weight on it that we initially perceived.

Edward Zander’s quote has been my mantra for the last 2 years. “It’s never as good as it feels, and it’s never as bad as it seems.”

2 years ago, I learned the back half of that quote. Now, I’m learning the first half.

In the end, it never feels good for very long. It doesn’t feel terrible for very long either. It just is.

Over a million minutes gone and so much time spent reflecting and growing. As we all know, there is no comfort in growth. And as I know, I’ve been uncomfortable for far too much of my life. I’m ready for comfort. I am ready to be comforted.

And I hate St. Patrick’s Day, it is truly the most uncomfortable of all days.

life, love

184 Days

September 18, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

This might be the day that I quit counting. 184 days might be the “magic number.” Some time ago, a friend told me that I should quit counting the days, that it wasn’t healthy, and asked if I was waiting on some magic number of days to pass when everything would be right in my world again.

Well, it’s here.

And it only took 6 months.

I doubt I’ll finish writing in time to publish this on September 17th, but that’s the date right now. To be exact, it’s 6 months, 4 hours, and 20 minutes from the time I received the email from my ex’s Ashley Madison lovely, exposing his double life. Exposing his infidelity. And exposing just the tip of the iceberg of the multitude of betrayals that would unfold over time.

Today, I celebrate that email. Today, I have a sense of peace and calm that I haven’t had in decades. I don’t think I’ve felt like this since July 31, 1998. And even then, I was just a kid.What did I know? Now, I have so much more experience that I approach that which life hands me with a sense of peace that has probably never existed within me.

My first husband was verbally and emotionally abusive. As was my second. Over time, without realizing it, I became an entirely different person than I tried to portray. My inner dialogue was painful and harsh. I thought very little of myself, while simultaneously trying to be the person on the outside that I desperately wanted to be on the inside.

I was living a lie. And it was exhausting.

I wanted nothing more than to live an authentic life. I’ve recently looked at an old journal, from several years ago, where I specifically wrote out “live an authentic life” as one of my goals – but I couldn’t. Because my internal message never matched what I presented to the world.

And it happened again, just yesterday. I have a dear friend group of moms at my gym. There are 5 of us in total and one of the moms bought us all hats. She carefully picked out the sayings for each of us, being deliberate and intentional with our phrases.

My hat says, “I’ll bring the dance moves.” I immediately thought it was given to me ironically because, as my internal dialogue has always affirmed – I don’t dance.

But then she explained that I’m always moving at the gym, dancing to the music. And it made me pause. I do dance! I dance without a care in the world at the gym! I’m confident there, and surrounded by people that love me and are just as crazy and ridiculous as I am. It’s my safe place. And I am completely comfortable there, surrounded by my friends-turned-family, that love me dearly.

I do dance.

I am in a news video clip, promoting our gym, that was taken last week. In the clip, you can see me dancing. I knew the news crew was there, yet I was in my zone, in my happy place, and I was dancing. Without a care in the world.

I do bring the dance moves.

Such a simple moment, with such profound results.

Once again, my internal dialogue was feeding me lies! The people around me see an entirely different person than the way I see myself and that has got to continue to change. Little by little, my worlds are coinciding.

I feel as though I’m finally achieving my goal. I’m living authentically. My internal dialogue is filled with positive messages to myself.

For example, I have (had?) body dysmorphia. I’d look in the mirror and see a completely different person than what others would see in me (hmm, I’m seeing a pattern here…). I’d stand on the scale and berate myself, calling myself a heifer and other such names. I wasn’t very kind to myself. *sigh*

But why?

Looking back, I think it’s because I was beat down for so long. I wasn’t enough for the people I loved – ever. I was criticized and humiliated. Accused and attacked. For decades.

So, the external onslaught became my internal dialogue.

And then, March 17th happened. And I started seeing my therapist frequently. I don’t recall now, but I think it was once a week, though at the very beginning, it might’ve even been twice each week. I just can’t remember.

But, man, is my therapist out of this world.

(PSA: Guys, go get yourself a good mental health professional. No matter how you're feeling, seeing a therapist should be a part of your general self-care routine - even if it's quarterly, just to check in. Go.)

Okay…where was I?

Ahh, yes. My therapist calls me out. He doesn’t tiptoe around things. He knows I’m a perfectionist and tells me to knock it off, to quit playing “God.” He’s blunt. He’s seen me break down and ugly cry in his office because I didn’t believe the words he was telling me. I was so broken and had spent so many years beating myself up that I found myself unworthy. I believed the negativity my ex spewed at me. And I didn’t believe my therapist or anyone else who tried to tell me differently. Well, until this last month or so, when it just clicked after one of my appointments with him.

At this specific appointment, I left feeling defeated. I was still crying as I walked to my car. He had told me to re-frame my thoughts and gave me a replacement dialogue to use. I looked at him through my tears and shook my head. I told him I couldn’t say those things to myself because they were lies. I didn’t believe them. How could those things possibly be true???

He sighed, and with a look of sadness for me that he just couldn’t mask, he agreed to give me another option. For now, he said…one that was neutral and I was much more comfortable with saying to myself.

And I did. Anytime I needed to re-frame my inner dialogue, I repeated the second option. Until one time, I repeated the first. And it felt good. It felt honest. And I smiled. Because I believed it.

And I haven’t stopped believing my new inner dialogue.

Until I received the hat and the first thought in my head was, “I don’t dance.”

My inner voice still lies to me. I suppose we all deal with insecurities and things we’ve convinced ourselves of that, with enough confidence and self-reflection, we can find to be utterly untrue.

I do dance. Happily and ridiculously. And it took a dear friend to see that in me to make me realize this truth about myself.

I am finally listening to the positive messages people tell me. I no longer think I am unworthy of those messages. I no longer believe they’re just feeding me lines of complete garbage, just to try to make me feel better. I’m listening to the correct messages now and it’s changing who I am.

I used to worry about every little thing. I called myself a catastrophizer. I saw the negative outcome in anything. With some things, it turned into paralyzing fear.

Now, I simply ask myself, how do I feel about that right now. It is only this moment that exists. Why fret over the possible “what ifs” in life? I was a Type A planner. And worrier. I covered all the bases. Or I thought I did…

And where did that lead me?

No amount of planning can prevent life from unfolding exactly as it is supposed to. Loved ones will die. Car accidents will happen. Illness will strike. Personal catastrophes that are far worse than mere infidelity will occur – catastrophes that have no positive outcome in the end and yet, you still have to reconcile it all and try, valiantly, to move forward. (**Okay, I am not downplaying infidelity. However, so much good has come into my life from his choice to end our marriage through those means. With some catastrophes, no matter how hard you try, you cannot find the silver lining an no good will ever come from it.**)

There are some things that will still turn your world upside down, if only for a moment, regardless of how much effort you put in to make sure you’re following a certain path that has been deemed “safe” inside your head for your multitude of reasons.

So, I encourage you to live free and with authenticity (whatever that means for you. For me, it was to finally ignore the lies I’d been living with for decades).

Make sure your mind, body, and soul align to your truth.

Only listen to the voice in your head if it’s feeding you positivity. Otherwise, remind yourself that it’s all just lies and should be re-framed and shut down.

Six months later, I feel lighter than I have in a long time. The burden of the lies has been lifted. When my ex does beat me up, verbally speaking, he’s attacking triggers that used to exist. His words no longer have power over me. Where he was once able to destroy me with just a few sentences, I now simply shrug them off (okay, I might still throw in some cheap shots back, I haven’t quite mastered this whole “living with class and grace” thing). But the point is, his words do not defeat me anymore.

I am now living a life that is extremely satisfying. I am content. I feel empowered and strong. I very rarely overthink and over-analyze. And I have no fear.

Things just are.

I form my next decision based on how I feel right now, in this moment. I can’t put enough emphasis on that. Right now, this moment, is the only true reality. To me, that is the only thing that matters. If it is bringing me happiness right now, I will continue to pursue it. As soon as it evokes a negative emotion, then I change my course of action. I no longer worry about “what if” and “should’ve” and “could’ve.” Things just are. Life just is. I breathe in. I breathe out.

This is what is working for me.

I do dance. Thank you for seeing that in me, Casey. And even more than that, thank you for pointing it out to me.

And, finally, I live and love without bounds or fear of what may come or what may be. Because none of that matters. It simply doesn’t even exist, so how could it matter?

Six months later and I am finally free of the lies. I never would’ve thought, in the moments after receiving that email, that this is where the chain of events would lead me.

Who would have ever thought that I’d be so grateful that my ex cheated on me?

184. This might be my new lucky number.

Because life is so good today.

Please excuse me…I feel the need to go dance. I do that now. *smile*

life

Dear Ashley Madison Lovelies

May 22, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

I spent a good portion of today angry and frustrated. It isn’t all that often that I allow those negative feelings to consume an entire day of mine, but today it was, apparently, unavoidable.

I have a way with words. I typically am very capable of putting my thoughts and feelings into sentences that are able to be clearly read and understood by others.

The feelings I have from being betrayed by one of the very few people that I blindly trusted – by my husband – are just nothing that I can put into any form of coherent thought.

It’s more of a physical feeling, deep within my gut. When I allow it to consume me, I feel physically ill. Most of today, I felt absolutely sick. But, like, disgusted. Like I was forced to eat old, molded, putrid, rotted fish. Over and over. Bite after bite.

That’s as close as I can get to explaining what it feels like when I try to understand what my ex did to me and our family. It’s also the feeling I get when I look at him and fully understand that he has absolutely no clue the extent at which his actions have affected me.

And will always affect me.

I know he doesn’t understand because of his actions and words all day today.

Which constantly made me feel even worse. To know that he doesn’t understand, and to realize I am incapable of explaining it in a way that he can, drove me absolutely bonkers today.

I desperately want him to understand how I feel. I want him to truly visit the depths of the sea of anguish I now swim (and sometimes sink) in. But how could he ever when I don’t even quite comprehend how I feel?

I know I am so incredibly angry. I am disgusted. I am filled with rage and even hate. Lately, the ability to live with grace has been shadowed by so much negativity. The more he pushes back, the cockier he behaves, the more he tries to defend and justify what he did, the less I am capable of acting with any semblance of class or grace.

And he’s been home for so long now! When he was cheating on me for the last year, he was home for about 1 week each month (except during the 2 months after his accident, when he was home and I was taking care of him, the house, and our daughter, all while trying to work my new business… Ugh, I wish I knew then what I know now!) . Now that he’s not cheating, he’s barely been on the road! Coincidence? I think not.

It’s so hard to see his face, day in and day out. It’s even harder to hear him play the role of victim, which he has been doing more and more frequently. It consumes me with such fury that I know I need to head to a rage room soon because I definitely do not need to be punching another column in my kitchen…

Every time I think about what occurred during the last year of my life, I try to assign words to the thoughts and feelings swirling about. I fail every single time. But perhaps it’s impossible because words are rational and these thoughts and feelings are anything but.

My life was a joke – and I had absolutely no clue. Well, that’s not exactly true. I had a gut feeling, even talked to my best friend about it, but dismissed it quickly because I thought, no, not him. He’d never lie or cheat.

God, I was a fool! Listen to your gut, ladies and gentlemen. It doesn’t lie to us.

You now the other thing that made me so mad today? Apparently, he has shared this blog with some of the women he chats with on Ashley Madison. They read it and then text him, reinforcing his thoughts that he is a victim, that how awful I am to paint such a picture of him. I mean, they are women with letters after their names! They know! They told him, apparently, that I have portrayed him as a villain. And since they have titles, they absolutely know what they’re talking about.

Well, it’s a good thing you Ashley Madison women know my (ex) husband so well! How dare I show him in such a terrible light?! Of course I’m just a woman scorned, out to say horrible untruths about the man that did nothing wrong over the course of our marriage. He was the victim! If he did behave in any sort of unsavory way, it was simply because he was provoked! His behavior was always justified because I acted in such a way that deserved to be treated and talked to in such a manner. He was, of course, justified in his actions over the last year, too, because I didn’t show him love… Of course all of these blogs are written because I’m just hurt and want to attack him.

Barf.

I do not write this to throw him under the bus, as his precious friends would like to reinforce. I write this to not feel so alone. To process. To feel support from my community during a time when my heart – my life – is absolutely shattered. To try, desperately, to put words to the ugliness I feel within, down to my core. To rationalize this catastrophe. And I write to hear how maybe you assigned some sort of sense to it when you went through it.

I write to know that I will come out ahead and even stronger than before. To know that I will never allow something like this to ever happen to me again.

I write so that I can look back on these blogs and remind myself to never again be such a naive fool. To always listen to my gut.

Because, guys! I don’t remember things. Ever. I have the worst memory! And God forbid I ever forget how this feels.

So I write. I document. I process. I lean on you all (well, maybe not all. I’m definitely not leaning on you lovely Ashley Madison ladies).

So, let me speak directly to you, you Ashley Madison lovelies: understand that you have absolutely no clue who this man really is – you only know who he wants you to see.

And understand that I do not write to villainize (yes, that really is a word) my ex. It’s not always about him. I write, first and foremost, for me.

Because I will not forget this pain. Ever. I refuse. I will have these blogs to look back on as a constant reminder to never be fooled again.

I write to remember.

life

Honesty

April 26, 2019 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.