That's so Cliche'

I often stop and take some quiet time to reflect on the most difficult time of my life. Giving up on my marriage and embarking on the divorce journey changes a person, no matter the reason for the decision. It’s very similar to the stages of mourning. The marriage has died, the commitment needs to be buried, and the dream of happily-ever-after deserves to be mourned. I found myself often amazed at the kindness of some, as well as the judgement of others. So many of my friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances offered empathetic wishes and unsolicited advice.  It was, from most, offered with the best of intentions. I began to notice that most couldn’t find their own words to express condolences so, instead, they used those common well-meaning clichés. These still ring (loudly) in my memory:

This too shall pass.

What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.

There is light at the end of the tunnel.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

Every dark cloud has a silver lining.

Time heals all wounds.

Faith looks up.

There are so, so, so many more. But, seriously, people?  Who wants to hear that when they’re in the throes of a struggle or a deep, dark depression?  Certainly not me.  I hated the way people looked at me. That look of sheer curiosity mirrored with utter pity.  It was sickening.  I hated the inevitable question:  What happened?  What the Hell does that mean?  How does one explain how their marriage failed?  It just…failed. For me, there was no juicy story to tell.  No one cheated.  No one gambled away all our money.  No one was abusive.  Life happened.  That’s what happened.  Sorry, folks, no grand tale.  No juicy story to pass on with a twist.  It was just…life. Life happened, ha, isn’t that so cliché? 

After I began to find myself and feel a little less vulnerable, I’ve begun to find the humor in the whole thing.  The thing is, five years later, during my reflection times, I realize that all of those obnoxious clichés are, well, true.  The overwhelming depression did, in fact, pass.  It didn’t kill me and it did, most definitely, make me stronger.  There was a light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.  It, our marriage, was simply NOT meant to be.  I lived under that dark cloud for far too long, and slowly, but most definitely surely, I see that silver lining.  Time is still healing my wounds.  And, faith?  Faith does look up.  Cheers.

Surviving, Thriving, & Blooming

It seems that everyone I meet has a “line of division” in life; that line that divides their before and their after. For some it’s before and after children, for others it’s the death of a loved one, and for many (like myself) it’s the end of a marriage. So many of our stories begin with “when I was married” or, even more often, “after my divorce.”  That is our line of division: marriage and post-marriage. It defines us. There was a time when I thought that definition to be unfortunate. I resented it, even. Time goes on, though, and you realize that what doesn’t kill you DOES, in fact, make you stronger. You learn to bloom right where life plants you.

When I was married, in my before-divorce life, we had the white picket fence family life, on the outside. Inside, things were in constant turmoil but we hid it well. I spent countless hours, days, weeks creating an old English garden around our home. It was my therapy. Subconsciously, I suppose, I thought if things lived and flourished outside, we would be able to do the same inside. I planned, I planted, I cultivated, I weeded, I shoveled, and I pruned. The garden grew. It was gorgeous: my pride and joy. When the time came to move and leave that home behind, I mourned the garden. A silly thing, it seems, to so many. I walked the perimeter for hours and shed tears for all the wasted hours spent and all the blood, sweat and tears that I’d invested. I wondered if the next owner would appreciate the fruits of my labor. I worried about what would become of my plant babies. They were just plants & flowers, but I felt guilty for abandoning them. There was a story behind each one; a story that, in some odd way, defined a time period of our fifteen years as a family in our before-divorce time. I decided in the last hours of the move, that I would take some of my favorite plants with me. I chose the ones with the best, most meaningful stories. A crazy idea, I realized, but I was determined. Among the furniture, the bins of childhood memorabilia, and hundreds of other boxes, I packed pots full of memories disguised as plants & flowers. They wilted and struggled to survive. The parallel is so ironic. As I reflect on the story and the irony within it, I laugh out loud. WE, the people, were struggling to survive. We wilted.

Fast forward two years. This morning, I sit on the balcony of my replacement home sipping coffee and reflecting on life. I look around at the privacy barrier I’ve created. It’s made of potted plants. Plants that survived a divorce and the loss of their home. Some of their parts died. Some of the most beautiful parts of them didn’t flower or flourish for several seasons. Slowly, though, they began to grow again. Slowly, with some TLC, they began to thrive and to bloom…right where they’d landed. Once again, I reflect on the ironic parallel to the people inside the home, and specifically to the gardener. I struggled.  Parts of me died.  Other parts stopped blooming and lived in darkness for many seasons. But I survived.  WE survived. And, slowly but most definitely surely, we’ve learned to bloom…right where we landed; right where life planted us.

 

Yin, Yang, & Yoga

I decided to try my hand (actually my whole body) at Yoga. A good friend of mine suggested that it was a great way to work through life stresses and exercise the muscles. I did a little Googling and discovered that Yoga is often recommended for women over 35, for various reasons. I signed up online for a one week trial at the local Pink Lotus Yoga Center.  Being the overly ambitious, jump right in, type A that I tend to be, I chose a different class every day for the following seven days. Yup. You read that right…SEVEN days: Friday to Friday. They offer a large variety of classes and I wanted to get the most out of my one week trial (and the money I paid for that trial). I dressed in what I thought was appropriate Yoga attire & headed out for my first class. I walked in fifteen minutes early and the experience began. First of all, let me say that the class could not be more appropriately decorated or located. It’s in the Old Mill building, complete with rugged rock walls and gypsy-like décor. I love it.

I signed in and watched all of the seasoned, experienced yogis and followed along like a hesitantly excited puppy. I grabbed my mat roll, two blocks, a blanket and a bolster. I found a comfy spot near the middle, yet close to a window. I sat in what appeared to be the standard Yoga-style sitting. Then, suddenly, I noticed everyone else was barefoot. Ok. I admit, I should’ve known that yoga was a barefoot-princess type sport. I got a little freaked. How many people had walked on these rock floors? How often had they been washed (or NOT washed). I swallowed my anxiety and slowly removed my socks and shoes (gulp).  Oops, I digress…

The class began and it took all of 10 minutes for me to be all in. I followed directions, copied poses, opened my heart and my mind and found the poses to be surprisingly comfortable to perform. I can do this, I thought!  I can’t wait for tomorrow’s class.  The 75-minute class went by in a flash. As a side note, at the close of the session, the instructor says a little mantra about going forward and doing good things, which I found very inspiring.  I attended the next two classes and was equally enthralled with hem.

Three classes down and it’s Monday. Monday’s class is “Gentle Yin.”  I was feeling a bit under the weather from all the pollen that keeps trying to bully my sinuses and considered cancelling. “Oh,” I thought, “it’s the Gentle class, though. It’ll be relaxing.” Beginning to feel much like one of the regular yogis, I found my usual spot, took on the starting position, and got ready. Oh wow, was I in for a treat (insert snarky grin and a little eye-rolling here). 

I vaguely remember the instructor giving this little speech about how this Yin Yoga was a good way to “let go” of the negative things that plague us and that it can be difficult for some people. How was I supposed to know she was talking to me???  The class consists of six spine poses held in “relaxation” positions for seven minutes each with a short stretching session between. The first pose lasted forever. I was pretty darn sure it was way longer than seven minutes. I readjusted. I fixed my bolster pillow. I put a block under my hip. I tightened my pony tail. I scratched my ear. I resituated myself (a few times). Someone across the room was breathing in an almost-snore rhythm. Someone else made a whistle sound each time she exhaled.  The couple next to me had on matching bracelets. I couldn’t concentrate, for God’s sake! There was nothing to concentrate on. By pose three, my inability to relax was quite obvious. The instructor came over (I heard her coming), laid beside me and we had a short whisper-voice conference. “It’s really hard for some,” she said with empathy. “Your body is reluctant to let go,” she explained. She tapped my back and my hips and made some suggestions. “Just breathe in and relax here,” she suggested. I thought, “I AM relaxing!! My body just won’t listen!” I realized in that instant that I was the ADHD person in the room…there truly is no existing Yin to my Yang. I struggled through the next three poses and when the class was finally over, I quickly gathered my Yoga accessories and headed for the door. The teacher stopped me, she was so kind and looked at me so sweetly. “Those that struggle the most with this class,” she said, “need it the most.”  I’ve been chewing on that all week (but that’s for another post). 

I am so plagued by thoughts of my inability to sit still and/or to relax. I Googled again. Evidently, Yin and Yang are supposed to go hand-in-hand as contrary forces that are interconnected and balance each other. I’m out of balance. I have to go back. I will go back.  After all, I have to (somehow) find the Yin to my Yang.  Stay tuned.

Check it out: 

For information on The Pink Lotus Yoga Center     

http://www.pinklotusyogacenter.com/

For more Yoga humor:

http://www.rodalesorganiclife.com/wellbeing/10-things-a-yoga-teacher-learns-about-you-within-the-first-5-minutes-of-class

Choose Marriage

Lessons about Marriage from a Divorcee

So often when discussing married life with my still married friends, I catch myself saying, “Who am I to give advice? After all, I am divorced.”  Just last week I was talking relationships with a friend and I dropped my famous line. She immediately retorted, “WHO better to give advice than a divorced person?” I’ve spent a week chewing on that. She has a point, I told myself. Who better to give advice than one who tried and failed and has spent years looking back, reflectively? That’s me.  Since I separated from and, subsequently, divorced my husband, I’ve spent countless hours analyzing our 15 years of marriage, identifying errors & indiscretions (both his and mine), pondering possible solutions, and wishing I’d had been a different wife. Perhaps divorce was our fate. Perhaps we could’ve/should’ve tried harder, or for longer. Those things, I’ll never know.

Here, for what it's worth, is what I do know:

Show up.

Showing up, ready to work is 50% of the job, any job. Marriage is a job. So, show up. Be present. Be available.  Be attentive.

First & Last

Make your spouse the first person you say good morning to and the last person you say goodnight to (not your children, not your pets, not FaceBook). Your waking thoughts should involve your spouse and so should your dozing-off thoughts. When they don’t, there’s a bigger problem.

Say what you need to say.

Convey your thoughts and feelings to your spouse. He deserves to hear them, to ponder them, to reflect on them, and to use them to better know you. You deserve to be heard, to share your thoughts and emotions, and to feel free to use your voice.  Bottled up thoughts and feelings fester and will, eventually, spew. It is much more difficult to listen and to understand thoughts that are conveyed out of frustration or anger. Avoid that. Think first, then speak. Never stew. Never spew.

Save the sarcasm.

There is a fine line between being sarcastic and being witty. Skip the sarcasm at home. Save your sarcasm for being the life of the party, for making your friends laugh, or for the rude cashier at the drive through. Spare your spouse. Don’t use sarcasm to give your emotions a voice. You’ll be misperceived and misunderstood. Sarcasm is passive aggressive and, all too often, hurtful.

Go to bed mad.

I’ve always heard that you should never go to bed mad. Boooooy, do I disagree. When making any big life decisions, we’re always advised to “sleep on it.” I find that to be much better advice. It’s ok to go to bed angry.  It’s okay to sleep on it. You’ll probably discover that when the next morning rolls around, you’ll feel less agitated than you did the night before. You’ll be more rested and probably thinking more coherently. Your thoughts will be easier to convey and, probably, better understood. Go to bed mad. Wake up rested.

Apologize.

It takes two: two to get along and two to argue. Apologize when you’re wrong (and you will be wrong). Apologize sincerely. Apologize even if you don’t understand. Apologize even if you don’t agree. Apologize simply for hurting his feelings. Apologies move mountains.

Do YOU.

It’s so easy to merge yourself with your partner, especially in the early years. But I caution you to not let yourself get lost in the “you” you are with him. Stay in touch with yourself: the things that you like to do, the healthy habits that you’ve formed, the parts of your personality that make you unique. Marriage is about compromise and synergy, not sacrificing. You can synergize yourself with his self but don’t sacrifice your wants, your needs, your likes, your hobbies, or your dreams. You’ll grow resentful and the marriage will cease to flourish. It will flounder and begin to fail. Be YOU. Do YOU. He will love you for you.

Don’t BE grateful.

Don’t be grateful. Gratitude is silent.  SHOW grateful. We often feel appreciation that we struggle to portray to our significant other. Contemplate what makes him feel grateful and learn to show it in a way that he can perceive as appreciation. Don’t be too proud to compliment or to say thank you. Give your gratitude a voice.

Bridge the gap.

As life happens, you will occasionally grow apart. It will happen but it doesn’t mean it’s the end. Make the effort to bridge the gap before it becomes a great divide. Stay alert. Notice the gaps as they form. Like any other small problem in life, it’s best to address it early on before it grows and is irreparable. Practice damage control. Bridge the gaps, quickly and efficiently.

If you want a partner, be a partner.

It’s the golden rule of marriage: be what you want your partner to be. If you want him to work with you, work with him. If you want him to make you feel loved, make him feel loved. If you want him to appreciate you, appreciate him.  If you want him to be affectionate, show him affectionate. It’s easier said than done. Believe me, I know. But, it CAN be done.  

Choose marriage.

In today’s world, divorce is widely accepted and often seems to be the “easier” route. However, it’s a choice to give up.  It’s a choice to get divorced. Choose marriage, until and unless you have NO choice. For as long as you feel you have a choice, choose marriage.

Note: Because I am a heterosexual woman, I default and refer to a spouse as "he." However, the road runs both ways, folks.