Five things

When X and I were in the initial stages of separating and all communication had broken down, my counsellor made a suggestion:

  

Whenever we had an argument or couldn’t find anything kind or respectful to say, WRITE FIVE THINGS about each other that we genuinely love and appreciate.

  

It’s simple and effective, and can sometimes help to turn the tide.

 

My mantra

When I was going through the darkest hours of my separation, my wonderful counsellor would say: 'After winter comes the spring'... It's become my mantra. Feel free to share it.

The Punch

A bit of background: I grew up in the outback and my sister and I were tomboys who regularly engaged in rock fights and good-natured bike ramming with the neighbourhood boys. I was sporty and feisty, and my Dad taught me how to punch properly when I was young – just in case I ever needed to. 

So, this leads me to a confession… When I discovered Y (the Other Woman) at X’s new living-the-single-life digs one morning, not long after he left me, I gave her my finest left hook and knocked her to the ground.

Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, as I distinctly remember thinking that I had to avoid hitting her glasses before I gave her an upper cut to the cheek. And just to give to the whole ugly scenario an authentic white-trash vibe, my baby was sitting on my right hip.

I’m not going to lie – it felt profoundly satisfying at the time, and it was somewhat of a relief to literally come face to face with the truth after enduring months of X’s deception. But over the years that punch hasn’t served me well, and it still keeps coming back to haunt me – proving that no good can come of a violent act.

Aside from the obvious – I could have caused injury and been facing an assault charge – it gave X and Y all the fuel they needed to regularly play the “crazy” card. I was instantly labelled “profoundly violent” and this has resulted in me having zero contact with Y for the past eight years (apart from a couple of emails, the last sent in 2009).

In all this time I haven’t even as much as glimpsed her. Whenever I’m dropping my sons to spend the weekend with X, I have to send him a text in advance of our arrival, presumably so Y can make a hasty exit. She never answers the phone and we have never communicated regarding the boys, except for the time she gave my eldest son a haircut (oh yes she did!).

It's a pretty ludicrous situation. Over the years I've attempted to change it by suggesting to X that we all meet and put our ancient history behind us, but the mere suggestion seems to send us all spinning out of control and generate unnecessary drama that we're all forced to feed off for a few days.

                                                                                                                                                        Source unknown.

I’m typically told that my attempts to extend the proverbial olive branch are not genuine and – being my hot-headed self – I react negatively (I’ve penned some pretty heated missives that have probably enhanced my crazy-woman status). And so the avoidance goes on and we never get any closer to resolution or peace, or anything remotely healthy or grown-up. 

I’m left feeling frustrated and defeated, and I’m sure X must feel exactly the same. We just can't seem to get beyond this point. Even our sons think it’s pretty ridiculous after all this time – us so-called adults are hardly setting a good example of how to make amends and move forth with dignity.

Regrettably, I really think a large portion of the whole mess can be traced directly back to THE PUNCH. And while I can’t take it back, I can say that it hasn’t been worth the trouble. I can also take responsibility and make one last (and cross-my-heart genuine) attempt to make the situation more tenable for everyone.

In the meantime, all good advice is welcome.

The Humiliation Factor

The one thing you can do is to do nothing. Wait… You will find that you survive humiliation and that’s an experience of incalculable value. – T.S. Eliot

When it finally dawned on me that X and Y had been having their affair, probably for quite some time, I felt utterly humiliated. It wasn’t horrible enough that the man I loved had been lying and making future plans that didn’t include me, but the woman who had posed as his “friend” and had the audacity to come to our home and sit at our dinner table while I was pregnant was clearly laughing in my face.

I felt like THE BIGGEST IDIOT ON THE PLANET. And when I received an anonymous phone call from someone at X’s work – who, in some kind of sisterly show of solidarity, literally called to say: “Your husband is having an affair with Y” – my humiliation was complete. 

It was hard having to share the news with my family and friends, but the realisation that all of X’s colleagues seemed to know all about my (unconscious) uncoupling well in advance of me was mortifying.

It wasn’t just that I had been fully duped; it was that I had obviously failed as a wife. And the idea of being divorced and a single parent was scary.

Looking back, I think feeling like a fool was a fairly natural reaction. No-one ever wants to be the last to know their relationship has become a farce.

Fortunately for me, I could compare my own to level of humiliation to Jennifer Aniston’s (her marriage breakup happened not long before mine). On a scale of 1 to 10, she was definitely experiencing a humiliation rating of 50. In my darkest hours I would be comforted by the thought that the other woman in my life wasn’t Angelina Jolie, and that the whole entire world wasn’t weighing in on the tragic state of my marriage.

I was definitely feeling Jen’s pain but suspected she would be just fine – some handsome leading man would surely come her way, the movie offers would keep flowing in and she could always talk things through with Oprah or Ellen. And because there were no children involved, Jen didn’t have to see her Ex’s smug little Angelina-Jolie-is-in-love-with-me face in the flesh on a regular basis. 

I, on the other hand, didn’t think I’d ever be able to get off the floor for long enough to work again. I was pretty certain no dreamy guy would be wanting me and my considerable baggage. I definitely wouldn’t be left with a fabulous mansion and healthy bank account post property settlement, and I had no choice but to see X’s I-have-left-you-for-another-woman-and-am-feeling-so-loved-up-and-you-are-now-insignificant-to-me face on a daily basis. It was definitely a low point.

Thankfully I had two lovely and demanding little boys to care for, otherwise I might have just curled up in a corner and sobbed myself completely into oblivion. 



© 2014 Inertia Recordings

Eventually – with the help of an amazing counsellor, my sweet family and exceptional friends – I realised nobody was laughing at me. My humiliation soon subsided and made way for the next stage of relationship grief. 

In the process I discovered that surviving humiliation genuinely is an experience of incalculable value – it opens your eyes, expands your ability to empathise and gives you the chance to have a good laugh at your sorry self. And the truly great thing about humiliation is that it shines a spotlight on the people who absolutely love you and really will be there for you through thick and thin.

I’m not suggesting that you seek humiliation out… If you can avoid it that's a good thing. But if it happens to come your way unexpectedly, then consider it a lesson in resilience, and know that it will pass.