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.

Not so fast, Missus!

Last week I was at Coles having a chat to a lovely (married) woman I’ve met a few times about small-town living, local schools and single parenting. It was pretty general stuff, but after a while she looked right at me and declared: “I could never be a single mother!”

It clearly wasn’t said out of malice and I didn’t feel the need react on the spot, but it stuck with me. 

I guess the obvious thing to have pointed out would be that no young girl in the history of the world has ever looked to the sky, fixed her gaze on the brightest star and shouted out into the cosmos: ‘WHEN I GROW UP, I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY WANT TO BE A SINGLE MOTHER!” 

Given a second chance to respond, I might just be compelled to do something completely out of character, like put on my finest David-Duchovny-as-Hank-Moody-in-Californication voice and say something along the lines of: “Hey, Sister, don’t be so ignorant – my terrible affliction could befall you, too.” 

After all, becoming a single parent wasn’t my choice – following a very long, stable, productive and mostly happy relationship, my ex-husband had a complete change of heart and left me in order to pursue another woman. From one day to the next my safe and fairly predictable home life was turned on its head.

Despite the heartbreak and chaos that ensued, I discovered quite quickly that I could definitely and unequivocally BE A SINGLE MOTHER. In fact, one of the greatest benefits of X’s actions was the very comforting realisation that I had the ability to fend for myself and my boys. 

Among other talents, I can generate income, pay my bills and single-handedly maintain a happy and well-fed household. I've got a fantastic support network, have developed excellent negotiation skills, know exactly what I can rely on X for when it comes to our children and – as a welcome aside – I have very little fear around abandonment or relationships not working out.

So, in the interest of bestowing greater consciousness on all the married-with-children women who are as uneducated as I once was about the delicate art of single parenting, I’m going to ask that you put yourself in my well-worn, single-mother shoes for a moment and ask yourself what your life would look like if your husband suddenly departed.

For instance:

• Could you financially support yourself and your children?

• Do you have your own bank account and/or shared control over the family finances?

• Could you afford to live where you’re living now?

• Do you now what your legal rights are regarding shared parenting and property settlement?

• Do you know who you can absolutely call on in times of crisis?

• Is your relationship with your parents-in-law solid enough to survive divorce?

• Do you have some idea of how your husband would treat you and your children if he were to fall in love with someone else?

• How would you feel about another woman co-parenting your children?
• How would you cope with any gossip and innuendo?
• Does the mere thought of online dating make you break out in a cold sweat? 
• Do you have the name of a good counsellor handy?

It really is worth giving these things some thought, because ignorance is not always blissful. 

And please don’t ever say to me that you could never be a single mother. If I can do it, you most certainly can.