Tag Archives: Emotional triggers

This too shall pass…

There are times when all the inspirational quotes in the world, all the positive self-talk, all the telling yourself that you should be over this, that you’re moving on, that you’re stronger and better than you were, all the kind supportive comments of friends, family and counsellors just don’t cut it.  Something triggers you and the tears and pain and grief cuts right into your soul leaving you as raw and in such emotional agony as those early days.

There’s nothing – nothing – anyone else can do to help or console you. You know you’re just going to have to go down that dark path by yourself and know you’ll come out the other end into the light.

And when you do emerge into the light, it’ll be bitter-sweet, because you know that somewhere down the line – maybe not for weeks, months or even years – that darkness is waiting for you up ahead, hiding out of sight, waiting to pounce again when you’re feeling vulnerable.

For me, it was a combination of things. I had packed away all the pictures that include my ex-husband – or at least I thought I had.  But last night I came upon a family photo taken of us all a couple of years before he left me. We look happy.  Solid.  I’m looking at the camera with total innocence, his arm around me, no idea that my marriage and family are about to implode.  

Was he planning his departure even then?  Is that photo a lie?

And if it’s not a lie, if we were happy, if we were solid, if he did love me, how could he have stopped loving me so suddenly?

That’s almost worse to deal with.

That started the descent. I’m also jet-lagged, recovering from a bad cold and dealing with a chronic low grade pain in my hip which is currently being investigated, so finding that photo when I was tired and run-down led to the perfect storm.

I cried for about a solid hour  – probably the first time I’ve cried that much for over a year – and I know that, sitting here writing this right now, it wouldn’t take much to start me off again. 

I know it’s going to be better.  I know my life already is better.  I just have to look at the jar of dimes I started at the beginning of the year – two jars, one for bad days, the other for good days. I add a dime to one of them every evening.  There are only 3 dimes currently in the ‘bad day’ jar.  Three out of seventy-two – that’s pretty damn good.

But when you’re in that pain, it doesn’t help.

But… I’m holding on. I know I’ll get through.  I know I’ll come out the other end.

But I’m not the same as I was and I have to accept that.  That happy innocent woman smiling at the camera has gone forever.

On the outside I might appear like I’m moving on, that I have my life in order – and I am.  Trust me, I am. But inside I know that my heart is broken.  It will heal – it is healing – but someone who has had a heart attack is left with a permanent scar on his heart muscle.

It’s the same, I believe, if your heart has been broken emotionally. That scar will always be there.  Most days you’ll be fine, but once and a while you’ll get a reminder of the damage.

And then it will pass again.

Hang in there.

It gets better…

Although my husband left me almost three years ago, I was only officially divorced exactly one year ago today – March 6th, 2017.  One of the saddest days of my life.

In many ways, I feel the end of our marriage was the biggest failure of my life and for so long the pain was excruciating, both physically and emotionally.

I remember people who’d been through the same thing assuring me that things would get better, but in the midst of that agony I couldn’t see light at the end of the tunnel.

If you’re in the early stages of this process, I want to let you know that they were right. It does get better.  I know it might not feel like it right now, and you may still have many dark days ahead of you, but it will get better.  You will become stronger.  You will become more resilient.  You will – you will – become happier.  That’s not to say that there won’t be times, like today for me, when you won’t look back with a sense of loss, but it will get better.

This time a few years ago I couldn’t have imagined today.  I spent it with my brother and sister-in-law.  We had a lovely lunch out, then we went for a walk along the Thames, enjoying a chocolate ice cream as we watched ducks paddling furiously against the current, dogs careening around the park, tails battering with joy from side to side, new mothers out walking their babies, adults out walking with their aging parents.

Despite today’s anniversary and the sad loss it represented, it was a good day.  I had a good day yesterday.  I will most likely have good day tomorrow.

And so will you. If not tomorrow, then one day.

Hang in there.  I does get better.  I promise.

Special dates

Special dates hold power.  Sometimes they’re one offs  – graduation, moving into your first house, getting your first job, walking your child to school for the first time.

Sometimes they roll around every year – birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day.

Following a major life event – like divorce –  dates that once brought  joy, now bring… what?

I was married on November 2nd, 1977. Today would have been my 40th wedding anniversary, so it’s been looming large in my consciousness the past few weeks.  How will I feel?  How will I deal with it? Is it going to be as big a deal as I’m worried it might be.

Three years ago my husband and I were in the kitchen of our house.  I even remember what he was wearing – jeans, a blue and white striped shirt – and the scent of his aftershave – Old Spice.  We shared a kiss and discussed the fact that in three years time it would be our fortieth anniversary.  We’d been through a lot during our marriage –  separations due to his work, his infidelities and chronic health issues – and survived, so we talked about doing something special for our fortieth.

Less than six months after that discussion he’d left me for another woman.

Two months ago, they married.

To complicate things, November 2nd has always been a bittersweet date for me.  My dad died on our second anniversary, so while I celebrated the fact it was the day my husband and I were married, there’s always been a lingering sadness about the date because of my dad.

But that’s another story.

Today.

Today…?

What do I feel?

Honestly…? Better than I thought I would.

This is our third wedding anniversary since he left me.

The first one – our 38th – was very hard.

‘Firsts’ are hard, but in my experience, it was the second of everything – birthdays, Christmas, New Year, Wedding Anniversary – that was the worst.  The ‘first’ felt almost unreal.  The ‘second’ is when it really hit me – this was forever – but in the eyes of family and friends, you’re supposed to have ‘got over it’ by then – or at least, be well on the way to healing.  I know I was guilty of that kind of thinking before it happened to me, but for me, it’s this third year where things are really becoming easier.

Despite everything, I wish my husband and I had made it.

I wish we were going out for dinner tonight with our kids, our family intact.

But we’re not.

And it’s not.

And on this third anniversary of our non-anniversary, that’s… okay.  It’s getting better.

I promise you… whatever you are feeling now… it does – and will – get easier.

Hang in there.

Getting Through The Weekend

I’ve always loved the weekend. The anticipation of that last period on a Friday afternoon in high school, when our French teacher let us read old copies of Paris Match, instead of having to endure learning verbs or vocabulary or translating French to English or vice versa.

And then that drag on the stomach on a Sunday evening, listening to ‘Sing Something Simple’ on the radio, driving back from a day out on the coast, knowing school beckoned the next morning.

Or when the kids were young, and Friday afternoon meant the freedom of the weekend, just hanging out and enjoying being with them, before the Sunday evening routine of making sure homework was done, bags packed and clothes laid out for school next morning.

When it was just my husband and I, Friday evening meant going out for dinner with the weekend ahead to just hang out, sitting out on the deck with a glass of wine, shooting the breeze, going to a movie, visiting the kids, having our granddaughter for a sleepover, having the family round for Sunday brunch or a barbecue. Weekends were… perfect.

And then my world dissolved and everything went topsy-turvy. Now I dreaded Friday afternoon when everyone went home to relax. Friends who’d been available for coffee during the week were now tied up with their own husbands and families.

The weekend now emphasized just how alone I was. If I’d had a job, things might have been easier, but very often at this age we are retired, or have not worked in years. Now I couldn’t wait for Sunday evening when the world went back to ‘normal’ and I could, once again, look forward to meeting with my friends.

Two years in, I don’t dread the weekend any more. I’ve established new routines, but those early months were hard. Very hard. But you’ll get through them. I’m not pretending it will be easy, but you will.

Here are some ideas to help you.

Make Saturday and Sunday your days to do your grocery shopping and clean the house.
Sleep in.
Pay your bills.
Catch up on e-mails.
Go to church.
If you live in a city, buy a book on local urban walks and go exploring.
If you have a bike, pump up the tyres and see where your wheels take you.
Go window-shopping downtown.
Visit a museum.
Wash your car.
Read a book. (Caution, I know of many women – including myself – who were unable to sustain the focus to read a book for more than a year after being abandoned. If reading used to be a passion, it might take a while for your concentration to come back.)
Veg out on the sofa and watch all the shows you’ve recorded from the TV that week.
Work in your garden (if you have one).
Have a sleepover with your grandkids.
Go to a movie with a friend. (Don’t go alone – unless you go midweek – until you feel comfortable doing so.)
Cook (or bake) lots of food and split it up into portions which you can freeze for the upcoming week.
Go for a drive in the country.
Visit a historical site.
Volunteer with your local pet society and walk a dog.
Have a movie night – at home – with another single friend, either at your house or theirs.
Go shopping at thrift stores.
Sewing and craft projects.
Join a fitness centre and take a class.