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I Choose

I Choose

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Every day, my life as a single mom is tough.

Every. Single. Day.

Let me give an example. I live in Northern Utah. As this year’s snow season started, we wondered when we should put on our snow tires. This is an event we dread and avoid as long as possible. Not only due to the expense, but because it makes the cars run rougher and louder. At the end of October, I was scheduled to fly to Los Angeles to attend a client open house. The night before I was set to leave, a winter storm warning was issued. My kids were worried and upset because we still had not put on the tires and things appeared as if they were going to be messy and dangerous. Their worry and fear led to, of course, my worry and fear. I laid awake all night wondering what to do and chastising myself for not having the foresight to put on the snow tires earlier in the year. Now, I had a plane to catch in the morning and no recourse. Finally, I came up with a solution. I got up while the night still slept, loaded the tires in the separate cars, took a shower, and was parked at the tire shop the moment they opened. I explained my dilemma: I had three cars that needed snow tires put on in a few hours. They said they could help. Then I said, “K, um, I have a plane to catch, so I’m going to be doing my hair in your bathroom.” The guy laughed…but then he saw I was serious. And so it went. In between sessions of driving to drop off and deliver cars, I curled my hair in a public bathroom. Yes, it was awkward and embarrassing, but what choice did I have? I made it to the plane okay, and the kids were able to travel to work and school safely. But long about the time when I was supposed to be chipper and upright for the client open house that evening, I was crashing in a big way from my lack of sleep and early morning activities.

It’s the life of a single mom. Maybe if you are reading this you understand. I’ve got to earn a living and I’ve got to keep my kids safe. Somehow, I also am supposed to run a house, keep up the yard, hold a church calling, and delve into recovery self-care.

Yeah, I’m not keeping up.

I own my own business, which is capricious to the tidal shifts of the economy. It is true feast and famine and I never know which environment I will be operating in on any given day. It’s scary not to have a financial safety net of benefits and a steady paycheck. My worry for my kids never ceases. Whether quiet or vocal, I have serious concerns about how they will ever come to terms with what happened with their dad. My house is always a disaster—ranging in status from erupting whirlpool of chaos to World War III ground zero. When I take care of one thing, two other equally important things plop themselves unbidden onto my never-ending to-do list. It just doesn’t end…ever.

Every once in a while, particularly when I am tired or overwhelmed, I wonder why I decided to end my marriage. Why I would choose a life of stress and tumult over my old life where at least I had financial security and someone who mowed the lawn.

Then I take a deep breath. I remind myself that I made an impossibly hard choice for the happiness of myself and my children. I am a warrior-mommy. There is no doubt in my mind that even my most difficult day as a single woman is infinitely better than any day with my ex-husband. Because now I choose.

-I choose spiritual health and safety. Today, I live in a home where the spirit of my heavenly father soars unconstrained. There is  no one here covertly watching or participating in behavior that is in opposition to the vows we made at marriage. No one shares the same walls with me who is breaking covenants with intent. The adversary no longer is allowed free reign in my home.

-I choose love unfeigned. I now only have relationships with ethical individuals who do not live false lives. People who share my values. I don’t have to live with a man who is not worthy to be my husband and who doesn’t try, even as years pass where I yearn and beg for him to be the man I hoped he would be. I am better off with the difficult days rather than spending time with someone who does not even attempt to understand my physical and emotional needs. I now nurture myself.

-I choose peace. I don’t have to look over my shoulder every waking moment, anticipating when the dam of secrets will break open. Wondering—really knowing—that my worst nightmare is going to come true. It has already happened. It’s over. I can focus on healing myself and my children. I am free from terrifying discoveries always lurking around the corners to blow up in my face.

-I choose freedom. Yes, I am ridiculously busy. But I now unabashedly spend the limited free time I have in self-care and chasing the dreams I desire for my life. I don’t have to cater to the needs of a man who selfishly takes and takes and takes yet has nothing to give.

I read a statement recently that said something to the effect that loneliness is not a physical state, it is about the quality of your relationships and getting out of them what you want and need. I love this definition because it confirms what my instincts have been telling me all along: I am actually less lonely now that I am divorced.

I embrace each and every day of my messy, lonely, stressful life. Because I choose to.

Say What?!

Say What?!

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I had a highly triggering experience this past week. There was a death in the family of my ex-husband. After careful consideration, I decided to attend the funeral to support my former-mother-in-law, who was in my life for over thirty years, but also to be an anchor to my children. I knew it would be a difficult experience, particularly because my ex is a narcissist and I could already see traces of manipulative behavior starting before the day of the funeral even dawned.

When we arrived at the church viewing, we knew that my ex’s new fiancee, her children, and even her parents would be in attendance. As my mother and I moved into the chapel while the family said their final goodbyes and closed the coffin, I was approached by one of the new fiancee’s daughters. I was impressed and touched by this young woman’s bravery. That must have felt intimidating, making the first move to break the ice. Once we chatted for a few minutes, she invited me to come over and meet the rest of the family. I took a deep breath and accepted her kind invitation.

Her grandmother immediately reached in for a hug, such a sweet action. While we were hugging, she whispered in my ear, “Your ex-husband is a good man and you can take some of the credit for who he is.” A tingle of ooey-gooey horror raced down my spine that she would say such words. I actually held the hug longer than I normally would in order to give myself an extra second or two to process her statement. I finally pulled away, saying nothing. She grabbed my arm and said, “I’m serious. You should take credit for what a great man he is.” It took every bit of training in basic principles of polite behavior and therapeutic work I’ve completed since this all started not to blurt out, “Excuse me?! The thought of taking credit for who he is is entirely abhorrent to me. I want nothing to do with any kind of credit for such a horrible, abusive man.” The extremely awkward and painful conversation when forth, with me tilted a bit off axis by her highly curious remark.  

That interaction left me in a semi-state of shock and I sat numbly through the service. All the rest of that day, I kept thinking: How could she have said such an insensitive comment to me? After all the pain, abuse, and anguish I’ve gone through, how could she say that he is a good man? How could she think I would ever want to claim credit for who my ex is? Was she mocking me?

But, no, it didn’t seem like the comment was made with ironic intent. She presented herself as a genuinely earnest and compassionate woman.

I didn’t sleep that whole night and woke up feeling emotionally hung over. And completely puzzled.

But then I remembered. This is my ex we are talking about here. This is the master manipulator. More and more people are informing me that he is spreading a rumor that we divorced in a mutual, amicable fashion. He sadly states to our shared acquaintances how we simply fell out of love with each other and it was time we finally end a mutually unhappy reunion. Of course, he fails to point out that after giving him every chance to change and be a better man, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, and is still full of the same enmity to this day. He somehow forgets about his years of cheating, lying, and betraying our relationship. He doesn’t remember to mention that his own children will do anything to avoid him because they are tired of his constant boundary-breaking cruelty. His soon-to-be-wife nor her family can see how he is isolating her and already grooming her for future abuse. I will give him credit, because the act goes on—at least he is dedicated to that.

I’ve now been divorced for over a year and I lived with the puppetmaster reality-shifter for twenty-nine years. I don’t know how I continue to be caught surprised by what he is capable of. It’s still difficult for me to believe that such profound levels of human evil exist and that people can find personal fulfillment through play-acting. I don’t live in or understand that kind of world. Of course that sincere woman was not mocking me. She is being manipulated by the master. She really believes that her daughter has caught a wonderful man who was just the unfortunate victim of a relationship with a cold, distant wife. And guess what? I bet my interaction with them seemed cold and distant because I was completely taken aback by their “everything is awesome” attitude and open admiration for my past husband. When she hugged me, I wanted with everything in me to whisper in her ear, “It’s not too late! You can save your sweet granddaughters from a sexual predator. Please save them!” But this isn’t my place. I’ve already warned their mom. Yet, there she was at the funeral, staring at my ex with eyes overflowing with adoration and with a sparkling, new engagement ring on her finger.

This is just another example in a long list of how I need to turn this situation with my ex-husband over to Heavenly Father. I can’t change what is going to happen to those innocent girls. I tried. The interaction with the grandmother was a difficult reminder that when innocents are caught in the concentric circles of an abuser’s grasp, they may say things that seem harmful, cruel even. But the truth is they are victims too, being fed a completely false story. Their concept of reality is being purposefully altered by a person who has no empathy, compassion, or true ability to love. These are decent people who believe, because they have no reason not to. I’m grateful that I was reminded that this family is one who deserves my prayers and sympathy, not my ire.

Save Yourself

Save Yourself

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I have the great honor to volunteer as a betrayal trauma mentor. One of the common themes which comes up in our discussions is the wish that we could save the future romantic “victims” of our ex-spouses. I feel so blessed to work with incredibly amazing women. Their capacity to love and feel concern for others touches me continually. Even though they are barely figuring out how to survive themselves, they are worried about another daughter of God.

I too used to suffer with this need to rescue. Okay, let’s be honest, sometimes I still do. My ex-husband moved on from his relationship with me at lightning speed. Of course, it was easy for him because he never was faithful and he never felt emotions of true love for me. He had two new girlfriends before he had even moved out of our home and after he had promised to be faithful.

One of those relationships stuck and he was discussing his potential engagement two weeks after our divorce finalized. I was absolutely paralyzed with worry for this woman and her teenage daughter. I wanted to warn her! Help her to see! Save her! My mind churned with what I could do to get this innocent woman away from Cory.

Well, that relationship petered out, probably when she found out he had been lying to her all along, but then the next woman came along. Immediately. And my worry began to churn anew. One day, this new girlfriend reached out to me. I’ll admit, I was initially freaked out, but then I felt a surge of hope. Finally! A real opportunity to save a woman and her children from my ex!

Well, guess what? I was vulnerable and transparent, telling her a LOT of information. Details that she could not deny were true and should have sent her running for the hills. This woman also has teenage daughters (do you see a theme here?) and when I could not appeal to her own personal safety and worthiness for better, I appealed to her as a mother for her children’s safety.

And it backfired in a big way.

I don’t know what my ex is telling her, but she just wanted more and more “proof” that what I said was true. Finally, though devastating, I cut off contact with this woman because engaging with her was not emotionally healthy for me.

This girlfriend recently became engaged to my ex-husband. It makes me sick to think of what will happen to her and her children. I lose sleep over it. However, my experience with her taught me a valuable and needed lesson: I can’t save anyone but myself. As people who are trying to live the best life we can after divorce, we have a natural desire to help. However, some people are not emotionally healthy enough to receive our assistance. Perhaps, as in my case, the ex is a brilliant narcissist who plays the role of “good guy” so well that he could win an Academy Award. I am not match for his cunning deceit. I don’t want to try to be. I suppose I can see why she would believe him over me.

I realized the worry for this woman was hijacking my thought processes and emotional well-being. It was circumventing my own necessary efforts at healing. As a result, I went to the temple, the place I go with all of my problems. After a session, I spent considerable time in the Celestial Room. I told Heavenly Father I was turning this woman and her children over to Him. I needed to mentally walk away. After, I put her name on the prayer roll and I said out loud, “It is finished.”

Heavenly Father is in charge. He loves every single one of us, even our deeply misguided ex-spouses. I don’t know why He doesn’t stop my ex from hurting others. However, I do believe the principle of agency must be allowed to follow its natural course. When given a chance, I attempted to save this woman. Oh, how desperately I wanted to save her! But ultimately, I learned I can only save myself. This is something I have to remind myself of, at times, on a daily basis. I hope that as you navigate your journey you too can remember that the only person you can save is yourself. You alone are worth that time and energy.

You Hang in There

You Hang in There

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One of the surprising aspects of being a divorced woman is the amazing people I meet and talk to as I go about the business of changing my life. As I shift names on credit cards and other personal details, I spend a lot of time telling a lot of strangers about what is going on in my life. And here’s the weird thing: most of them have gone through it too. As a whole, I have found these individuals to be infinitely kind, patient, and willing to help.

The other day, I called up the credit card company to get my name changed. When the customer service representative asked me for the reason why and I explained, she said in a lilting Southern cadence, “I know what you are going through, when I went through my divorce, I got down to 82 pounds.”

As we concluded the call she said, “Now, Miss Azalee, you hang in there. Things are going to get better.”

I wished I could record her affirming voice, filling in the names of all the ladies I know who are traversing the living hell of ending a marriage and navigating the unbearable pain of betrayal trauma. So, I’m going to say what that sweet lady said: you hang in there. Things are going to get better. You are going to heal.

I am fascinated by the picture that I have used to head this post. The woman appears to sit on a swing over a chasm. Yet, she doesn’t give off the sense that she is desperate or unsure. She’s got her hands on a safe surface, but she’s not gripping in panicked desperation. Though it seems she is perched over an abyss, there is a confident command in her posture.

She’s hanging in there.

We may be hovering over own personal abyss. One that was not of our making or choosing. I would have given anything to save my marriage and keep my family together. The tumult of an unknown future may be all that we can see when we look forward. But we can face this with quiet confidence–because we’ve got this. Many of us haven’t been given any other choice.

We’re going to hang in there. We are going to trust that a loving Heavenly Father knows us and is in charge. Always. Forever.

Terminator Ex

Terminator Ex

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I am not what you would call a highbrow kind of gal, but I do love all the arts. Opera. Symphony. Theater. I suppose because duality makes folks more interesting, I also love things that do not fall anywhere in the arts category. Like demolition derbies.

And the Terminator movies.

I know, I know. The premise is ridiculous, the acting atrocious. Maybe the allure is because I adore the complexity of stories about time travel (still trying to figure out a way to have that work for me) but I was a huge consumer of the early Terminator movies.

Now, I’m not such a devoted fan because I have a Terminator ex-husband.

If you have seen the movies, there is that scene in the initial one where the Terminator leans in and with a menacing expression promises, “I’ll be back.” Well, my Terminator ex, he’ll be back…and back…and back.

I think we all hope that if we find it necessary to end our marriages, we can let each other go with love and an aim of forgiveness. Sure it’s sad it didn’t work out, but if nothing else but for the sake of the children, let’s metaphorically shake hands and wish each other love and light.

My ex-husband is a narcissist. Narcissists don’t let go. They don’t kindly shake hands, metaphorically or otherwise. Because these are vicious emotional vampires who do not like to lose. They can’t live with the fact that their exs now stand for themselves, are becoming strong, and are finally able to clear away the fog to discern through the nonsense.

When I first separated with my now-ex after months of him refusing to move out of our home (that’s a subject worthy of its own entire post), I could not initially distance myself emotionally. I had two self-destructive aims. First, I wanted to get some kind of rise out of the man. A hint of angst for destroying our decades-long marriage? Maybe one tear? Gosh, even the glimmer of sincere show sorrow?!

Unrealistic and unrealized expectations.

The second thing was that I kept looking to him to answer the why of what he did. How could he turn his back on his own children? How could he leave his family and rush into the next relationship with literally anyone who would engage with him on dating apps without a backward glance? I was not well enough at the time to see how fruitless it was to ask for rational answers from a man steeped in the insanity of addiction.

But I learned.

Eventually I saw the psychologically critical need I had to distance myself from his madness. The second he sensed me drifting away, he went into panic mode. The manipulation and cruelty, all packaged up in niceness, rocketed to a whole new level. Like, for example, when he had a rental car company leave a voice mail on my phone to confirm that my “family-sized van” was ready to pick up. Yep, he definitely wanted me to know that one month after our divorce finalized he was taking his girlfriend and her whole family on a trip to California.

Over time, I healed and I learned about boundaries. It was tough to let go of the control I thought I had, but I set rock-solid rules of how he could and could not engage with me. He is not allowed to contact me in any way except if it has to do with the division of our assets or our children. He can’t even text me to wish me a happy birthday. As his control over me started to fade, he did the only thing left—he turned on the children, because that is a great way to trigger me into defense mode. He is an absolute emotional brute to our kids, but couches his behavior in language of he is “just being sensitive to their needs”. When the kids see him and come home upset, it almost kills me to not defend them, but confronting him does nothing except to add fuel to his narcissistic fire. I have to remind myself that when you have no empathy, you don’t care that your children despise you and that you’ve lost their trust. My comments do nothing to change him or help him see some kind of a healing light.

I’ve come to realize that like the Terminator, who couldn’t be reasoned with or couldn’t be bargained with, my ex is going to attempt to punish me for the rest of my life. But my strong boundaries are barriers that block him at every turn. Terminators can be rendered powerless! We can transform from victims to victors!

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