Tag: betrayal trauma healing

The Missing Piece

The Missing Piece

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“Yes, but can’t you see how blessed you are?”

“I know you are struggling, but have you heard about what happened to Sylvia, she’s got it way worse. Be glad you’re not her!”

“I think if you focused on being grateful for what you have you’d feel a lot better right now.”

“I know exactly how you feel!” (proceeded by a recitation of a completely unrelatable experience that seems much less compelling than yours).

Have you ever heard a retort similar to these when you have shared a difficult experience with another? Did it make you feel unheard and dismissed? Did the interaction seem as if it missed a much-desired piece, namely, empathy and compassion? I certainly have.

It is not a strength I come by naturally to open up and be vulnerable about how I feel. I have survived most of my life by being the “brave little soldier” and buttoning up my truth. That no longer works for me. But it is a challenge when I try to test out this fledgling vulnerability skill and I hear comments such as those outlined above. I think that for the most part people have good intentions and mean well. They don’t try to blow another person off or make them feel small for their genuine feelings.

But still…

I hope I have never been that individual, but I know for certain that I have been uncomfortable with the strong feelings of others and struggled to sit with them in their pain. It is so much easier to issue a platitude and move on to safer ground than to reckon with my powerlessness to change a difficult situation for someone I care for yet still witness and try to share their pain through silent listening.

Back in 2012, when the age was lowered for missionaries, my daughter now could serve a mission and suddenly we were preparing for her to leave. She departed to go across the world and serve in what seemed to me record time (in reality, a year). I was thrilled and proud of her, but it was also very tough. I missed her terribly and worried about her constantly. I struggled through some dark days, and, of course, at that time was living in a covertly abusive marriage. I literally felt like I had no one to talk to. Missions are sensitive subjects which bring up complicated feelings in people. Sometimes, when I shared that I was sad about my daughter being gone, people would stare, offended, and say, “You know what I would give to have a child worthy to serve a mission?!” So to top off my sadness, I then felt bad about unintentionally upsetting another.

The mother of my daughter’s MTC companion somehow found me and reached out. This was not her first experience of having a child serve and she understood everything. I still say she is the reason I was able to get through the rough bumps those eighteen months.

When my daughter returned, I promised myself I would be that person to other missionary moms. When missionaries are getting ready to leave, I’ll take the mom aside or shoot them a text. Essentially I say: this is a wonderful experience, but there are going to be some tough days. Please know, I am a safe person for any of your feelings. There is nothing that you are experiencing that I have not. I have taken many a tearful phone call. One day, I answered the phone to a yelling voice, “Are you kidding me that the church doesn’t let me know the address of my own son’s apartment?!” That was a valid worry for a mom sending her son to South America. I honored that I had felt the same way. When my daughters served, I imagined natural disasters and me not being able to know where rescuers could find my child. It is a huge leap of faith to not know anything besides the city your child is living in. But, I talked with this woman about my personal discovery why the church makes those kinds of rules—to protect the missionary. We both felt better after.

I recently went through a re-traumatizing decision. I decided to sell the home I have lived in for over a decade. The place where I raised my children. Though I knew moving made the most sense, it still was a challenge to part with a home I loved. I believed I would live there the rest of my life, or at least for many more years. But then my husband betrayed me and I needed to file for divorce. That changed everything. As I settled in a new home, I kept thinking about how this was yet another thing that my ex had taken away from me. Our family home. It was not a favorable transition for my kids. The house was put on the market and sold basically in one day for over asking price. It will close in a few weeks. While this is wonderful and I am grateful, I still am feeling unmoored and adrift. I decided to open up to a friend about how I am struggling. She said, in essence, “There is so much to be grateful about and I choose to be focused on that instead of the things that are going wrong.”

Ouch.

At her hasty comment, I felt that the very real pain I am experiencing was somehow wrong, or that I was some kind of a cold monster, incapable of seeing the good in my life. I am grateful, but also struggling. It made me feel bad about myself again, when I really just needed someone to listen to, and validate, my sorrow.

What I hoped she would say was, “Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be very difficult for you. Though I’ve never personally had this experience myself, I can only imagine how sad I would feel if this happened to me. Though I have not had a parallel experience, I hear your words and want you to know I support you and am here for you.”

If there nothing else I have learned through my recent life experiences, it is this: I can try to be that safe person. Just listen. Validate. It’s okay to say, “I wish I had something amazing to contribute right now, but I don’t. But I do want you to know that you are loved and I honor your experience.” Or, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could offer you some help or change this for you, but for now, I am here and want to listen and understand more.” For the most part, people are not looking for you to solve their problems or come up with solutions. If they are, let them ask. Instead, simply provide the missing piece: a listening, empathetic ear. It’s something we all have to freely give!

Narcissist Survivor’s Guilt

Narcissist Survivor’s Guilt

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Each night, it takes me a good long time to fall asleep. So when I lay down, rather than stewing about why I can’t snooze off, I let my mind wander. I usually try to direct my thoughts into pondering happy scenarios like what my dream future house would look like or what it might feel like to be completely healed from the effects of my narcissistic ex. Recently, as I was drifting off, an unbidden thought floated out of my subconscious: I should have never divorced Cory.

This unprecedented idea jolted me awake. As part of my healing, I try not to judge myself when unusual thoughts jump into my head. Instead, I simply try to pause and be curious. But this one really came out of left field. I know that I made the right decision to end my marriage and it’s been a long, long time since I had any compunction that my divorce was anything other than a divine blessing.

After some consideration (and not much sleep), I realized that I was experiencing my own version of survivor’s guilt. My daughters are really struggling at this time. There are many reasons, but one of the key sources of grief is the cognitive dissonance they experience as they come to grips with their addict dad. Cory presents himself as the nicest, most low-key guy in the world. This version of their dad is the man they have known their whole life. But the true Cory is a narcissist. And like all people in the Cluster B spectrum, he is spiteful and aggressive. When you back him into the corner, he comes out swinging. My daughters have now had ample occasion to see that narcissist—the true man their dad is. One of my daughters described his behavior perfectly: vicious.

The real Cory, with his facade laying shattered on the ground, is unbelievable when first encountered. Particularly when his monster-like behavior comes at a juncture where he is vying to reestablish his membership in the church. He texts and talks about the atonement and Christ’s healing power, all while behaving in an emotionally abusive manner. There is no humility, there is no grief, there is no sorrow. It’s just a DARVO message of how he is tired of being judged and that he is a changed man…and the kids better get on board.

I am used to this and I’m not sure whether saying it doesn’t bother me much anymore is a triumph or a tragedy. But for my kids, this confusing behavior is relatively new.

Before everything about Cory came out, my kids had a great life. They enjoyed two parents who seldom fought and seemed happy, at least on the surface. They had the security of a decades-long marriage and the stability of a traditional family life. But now they have the reality of a single mom who struggles on a daily basis and a dad who is essentially out of their lives.

Enter in my survivor’s guilt.

I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking that if I had just stayed married, this wouldn’t have to be my children’s experience. I had not been happy for a long time anyway, so why couldn’t have I made the long-term sacrifice—their happiness for mine? It’s not as if I am shouting my joy from the rooftops now. My life is a significant daily challenge. Why not just stay the course and let them at least enjoy personal peace?

Because I deserve happiness. Because my children’s struggles, while awful to behold, will make them stronger, more compassionate individuals. Because we all have a right to live in a home with unfiltered access to the spirit. Because our loving Heavenly Father would never say it was my fate to exist in a marriage with a man who mocks everything sacred.

It was interesting that a year and a half post-divorce this was the first time I’ve ever had a dialogue like this in my own mind. It is always going to be awful to watch my kids in pain. I would give anything to take that away. But I know that once we all come out on the other side of this awful grief, there will be beautiful takeaways we will be able to share with the world. I may not be able to automatically turn off the survivor’s guilt, but I can look for the lovely miracles that will happen as we fully accept our reality and process our pain.

How Will I Know?

How Will I Know?

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But what if he never faces any real and lasting consequences for his actions?

Have you ever laid awake tormented by the fact that perhaps your partner or ex is going to get away with everything they have done? That justice will never be served? That the world will never see the true monster behind the mask? I have. In fact, that question plagued me to such a great degree that I honestly wondered at times how I would be able to live with it.

This man has destroyed your family. Ripped apart covenants. He used, abused, and neglected you while you exerted every power available to you to try and save your marriage. And then, just like that, he goes off on his merry way. If your situation is like mine, he’s in a rebound relationship before you have even been able to pick yourself up off the floor. My ex, within days of embracing the reality that I indeed planned to file for a divorce, was in a new on-line relationship and had booked a vacation with the woman—while we were living under the same roof! There was never a solitary tear shed over the loss of his wife, who had prayed, fasted, sacrificed, and given him everything. This is not a romance novel ending; he has never looked back with any sorrow at the loss of our relationship. He tells our children all the time how great his life is without me.

Then there are the sometimes lacking consequences from earthly and heavenly courts. We trust these third parties to understand and discern traumatic events. And let’s be honest, we look to them for validation of the incidents that have transpired in our marriages. Everyone’s experience with church  discipline is different. For me, while I knew I was loved by church leaders, I did not feel settled that the initial outcome of his discipline fulfilled the laws of justice. In addition, there is a high probability that your ex/husband is engaging in illegal behavior as well. But, often to your relief, he’s never been arrested or paid any penance for his risky behavior.

The reality is that addicts and our friends in the Cluster B category are often quite successful. Psychopaths, sociopaths, and narcissistic are known for rising up through business ranks. The fact that they possess no discernible soul serves them well in corporate America. Oh, you want me to lay-off that man whose wife just had twins and whose mother is dying of cancer? Not a problem. That older gentleman who has served our company for thirty years but is starting to slow down a bit, let’s cut him and strengthen our bottom line. This lack of remorse allows them to see humans as mere tools to profit and loss. These behaviors are often highly rewarded in business settings. So while you are eating questionable food because you don’t know how you are going to pay your mortgage this month, your ex just got a nice promotion and is taking the new girlfriend on a trip.

Talk about riding off into the sunset. How can their life be so amazing when yours is a wreck?

Rest assured. There will be a price paid. Isn’t their shallow, emotionless existence enough of a high toll in and of itself? Their loss of trust and esteem by people who used to care for them? My ex may not be able to feel anything, but I do. That makes me realize a full human experience. Despite the difficulties inherent in a normal mortal journey, I wouldn’t trade his life for mine under any circumstances.

Perhaps your ex will not discernibly pay for his sins in this life. But, we have to trust in our loving Father. I believe that Heavenly Father allows the laws of agency to move forward with little intervention. I, however, will never for one minute believe that we have a hapless God who is easily duped. Oops, turned my head there for a minute and missed that one. Unlikely. He notices and sees. The scriptures are replete with admonitions that we will be held accountable. We need to turn no farther than those sacred books to be assured.

Alma 5:17 says about our judgement, “Or do you imagine to yourselves that you can lie unto the Lord in that day, and say—Lord, our works have been righteous works upon the face of the earth—that he will save you?”

King Benjamin told his people in Mosiah 2:39 when speaking of those who come before the Lord unclean, “And now I say unto you, that mercy hath no claim on that man; therefore his final doom is to endure a never-ending torment.”

And, I have always taken great solace in Jacob, Chapter Two. I think he saw valiant sisters in this day of rampant sexual sin. I particularly feel resonance with verse 33. “For they shall not lead away captive the daughters of my people because of their tenderness, save I shall visit them with a sore curse, even unto destruction;…”

There was a time when I was wracked with so much emotional pain, it translated into physical pain. One day, I knelt down, my chest blazing with sorrow, and asked my heavenly father how…? How could Cory not feel anything and I, who had done nothing to shatter my vows, was harrowed up in darkness unimaginable? I received an undeniable witness that my ex-husband’s actions are known. I was given an assurance that all things will be made right. I was told that my trial is noticed, seen, and honored, and that I would receive compensatory blessings.

The point of this discourse, of course, is not to flame fires of revenge or propagate the idea that we would greedily relish the idea of a man we loved, possibly had a family with, and spent years of our lives with suffering torment. On the contrary, this prospect is a nightmare and a tragedy. My intent is to soothe that we can be assured that although it may seem as if our exs are getting away with everything, they indeed are getting away with nothing. Just like us, they are known and seen. I hope this idea can offer some respite and comfort from the distress of considering that he lives a life with no consequences. None of us are above those. 

I was so grateful for this illumination in my mind. I now spend little time worrying about whether or not justice will be served. And when I do catch myself falling into obsessive thought patterns, I turn it back on myself and say, “What am I doing to live a life that will qualify me for the Celestial Kingdom? What am I doing today to make sure I can spend eternity with those I love?” This shift in focus calms me. Ultimately, I tried my best to save my husband. But now, it is time for me to save myself.

At some point, all of us—good and bad—are going to leave this life and move on to our father’s kingdom. Personally, I cannot wait for that blessed day. When it comes, it won’t matter what Cory did in this life to me and others, that will be his sole accountability. What will matter is what I did to refine myself and become more of what I hope to be during my precious mortal existence.

I am Not a God of Fear

I am Not a God of Fear

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On Thursday, I returned home from a short vacation with my kids. Of course the virus was in the news before we left, but it was not a serious issue yet. We returned home after a wonderful time together and it felt like we entered a war zone. I ventured out to the stores yesterday to pick up the things from my lengthy shopping list. I don’t stock up on perishables before I go out of town because why buy things that will just spoil? In addition, since I might be moving in the near future, I have been actively reducing my food storage so I don’t have to transport it. I had heard the lines in the stores were crazy, so I felt pleasantly surprised when I saw the normal amount of cars in the parking lot. I walked in to see the produce section quite well stocked and heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay.

But then, I started to walk up and down the aisles. The milk and egg coolers were barren. The aisle that normally contains soups literally had nothing on it. I have lived through a lot in my life, including natural disasters, but I have never seen shelves empty to this level before. My heart began to accelerate as I abandoned my list and began to wander the aisles aimlessly looking for anything that I needed.

Virtually nothing.

I began to get that alternatively hot and cold feeling racing down my spine. I’m sure there is a medical term for this sensation, but I like to call these the “creepy crawlies”. I went into full-on panic mode. Was my family going to be okay? How long was it going to be until there was food on the shelves again? Then, my mental frenzy became more global. Surely, this kind of event was going to cause the economic free fall we’ve anticipated looming on the horizon. My business would most likely implode immediately. And I had a house to buy in the next nine months. How would I do that if my business went away? How would I sell my home if the housing market shut down due to economic worries like it did during the last recession?

By the time I got home with my meager spoils, I had transitioned out of panic mode and moved into a spot I find quite comfortable: poor me mode. Why does my life have to be so difficult? Why do I have to navigate everything by myself? Why did I have to marry a man who is so awful, even after we are divorced? How come I have to live without security and peace in my life? Don’t I at least live a life worthy of that? Seriously, what did I do to deserve my miserable existence?!

Yesterday was a fearful day. This morning found me searching the scriptures for verses that would calm me and put me back in a healthy mindset. I eventually found my way to 2 Timothy 1:7 “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

Yes, these are scary times and it is possible that I might temporarily lose a lot of my income. Of course it might become almost impossible to sell my home if our economy falters. Those are terrifying unknowns. In times like these, which we all will experience, I must turn my mind to what I do know. I know that Heavenly Father is in charge of my life. I know that He perfectly understands my pain and worry. I know He cares and is blessing my journey. I know that I would rather live every terrible and frightening day alone than with a man who hides in a disingenuous life. I know the Spirit can dwell unconstrained in my home because there is no one actively mocking God, affecting everyone with his sin. Those are things I can rest on while the world goes mad around me.

I am going to do everything in my power to keep my family afloat. I will work hard at the business I have now. When supplies return to normal, I am going to beef up my food storage. If I have to move it, so be it. I will continue to live a frugal life. More on point, I will be on guard for the messages of the adversary. He delights when I transition into that scared, lonely, confused, and helpless woman. When I forget I have power. That’s a big win for him. But most importantly, I am going to pray more fervently, listen more carefully, and diligently build my faith levels. I become scared when I think I have to figure this out all on my own. I can’t do this by myself, and I don’t want to try.  When panic takes over, I can take a deep breath and remind myself to lean on my heavenly helpers, because they never fail me. Heavenly Father does not desire for me to live in fear; He alone gives me everything I need to navigate the vicissitudes of my life.

Recognizing a Miracle-Finances

Recognizing a Miracle-Finances

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I promised awhile back, after processing some darker feelings through my blog posts, that I was going to keep an eye out for miracles and post about those as well. I have no doubt that miracles exist everywhere in my life and that angels surround me. It is up to me to be in tune, or not. Today, I want to note a seemingly tiny miracle, but one I am incredibly grateful for.

When I first found out about my husband’s sexual addiction, I went through the normal, devastating emotions of shock, denial, anger, bargaining, etc. However, as I worked and worked in an attempt to try to understand my new reality and how to get better, I realized that there were many layers to my recovery and multiples of trauma that I needed to mourn. One of those was my husband’s financially disingenuous behavior. When I discovered his porn usage and other ways he acted out, I realized that this involved a lot of hidden money. Even though my kids were small, I always worked, even if just part-time. Prior to discovery, it seemed like we never quite made ends meet. I would try to pick up extra freelance work and always operated our household as frugally as possible. When I discovered that the truth of our financial struggles lay mainly at the feet of my husband, who had been consistently hiding and siphoning off money, it was another unfathomable betrayal in my already complex network of grief.

At that time in my life, I had decided to stay married to Cory because I believed and hoped his earnest protestations that he had changed and would continue to evolve as a man of God. I felt terrified, unsure, and definitely had not surrendered the illusion of control in his recovery. I had always kept ahold of the reins of our finances, but I went into hyper-drive, obsessively accounting for literally every penny that went in and out of our home. I spent hours over my Excel spreadsheets reckoning and reconciling. I figured that if I could track the minutia of expenditures, I could control his addiction.

How wrong I was. I knew my husband was gifted, but I had no concept of what he could accomplish when he combined his intellect and desire to sexually act out. Of course, the money manipulation never stopped, it just became more deeply hidden and grew exponentially as the years went by.

Last night, I mobile deposited a check for thirteen dollars and change. As soon as the deposit was accepted, I made my way to my computer to note that tiny addition to my income. And then I stopped…and I realized that I don’t have to obsessively track thirteen dollars, because I don’t have anyone in my life who is stealing from me. Nobody is taking the funds I am saving for my daughter’s college education and spending it in strip clubs. I’m not figuring out how to buy groceries while the man I should trust with everything in my life is dating other women. My heart swelled with joy as I halted my progress toward the computer. I’m free!

Of course, I still budget and watch my finances, but what an indescribable blessing in my life that I can work hard for my money and that no one is going to use my own drive and ambition to cheat on me ever again. It is beautiful and I thank the heavens for reminding me of a miracle that might seem small, but is actually huge in my recovery.

My Self-Care Myths

My Self-Care Myths

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Everywhere you turn in the world of betrayal trauma recovery you seem to hear something about self-care and how essential it is to healing. I have had a somewhat lukewarm attitude toward self-care because I didn’t truly understand what it entailed.  I made the mistake of believing that self-care looked like the lives of one of my friends, who I’ll call Sandra.

Sandra posts a lot on social media. A LOT! She talks about how she takes care of herself by getting pedicures every few weeks. Oh, and when her hair is bugging her, she nips over and gets a whole new look in one afternoon with hair extensions. She recently hired a running coach to help her perfect her gait. We won’t mention the bikini-clad pictures uploaded from every exotic location you can imagine. She recently launched her own YouTube channel to talk about lash extensions, make-up, and fashion.

Somehow I convinced myself that Sandra’s life was the sum total of self-care. And, good on Sandra, but that is not my kind of life. I was raised to be a frugal and practical gal. I honestly went most of my life believing that reaping an honest paycheck for a day’s work is enough of a reward and anything above and beyond that was frivolous and self-indulgent.

And the fact of the matter is I barely have time to do my hair, not to mention worry about its length and luxurious fullness. My idea of fashion is matching a different sweater with the same five pairs of jeans as I rush to get ready for a client conference call. And you’re just going to have to trust me on this one: nobody wants to see me in a bikini. See, I’m a divorced, single mom, and business owner. Time and money are precious commodities.

Since I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, live a life like Sandra, I thought that self-care was something that was not ever going to be in my wheelhouse.  When therapists would ask about it, I would offer vague and perfunctory replies about my progress in that area. It felt awkward to openly admit that I simply didn’t have the time, energy, or cash for self-care. However, as I did some research on self-care around the Valentine’s holiday, I found  an enlightening article which stated that self-care can be as basic as taking a few minutes a day to have quiet time.

Excuse me?! Could it really be that simple? It didn’t have to be an over-the-top, guilt-ridden exercise in pampering to be effective?

What did I have to lose?  I gave it a shot because surely I could find a few minutes in my day to practice self-care if that was a true definition of what it entailed.  I have a cat who cries to be petted each night. I decided to make that my self-care time. It is calming to be next to her warm body, feel her thick fur, hear her content sawing-purrs, and view her face as she stares at me in utter adoration. Simultaneously giving and receiving love—well, there isn’t much better in life, is there? In the past, while we had our bonding time, I used to check email, catch up on social media, or perform some other mindless task. Now, I sit at the top of my stairs looking out the window at the glorious night sky. I consider the vastness of the universe and the love of a precious house cat. I think about my day. I dig into my thoughts and feelings. I notice pain and worry present in my body. I speak kindly to myself, reminding myself of all the people who love me, and that I am in the care of a loving Heavenly Father.  I tune into my truth: this is a really rough time of my life, but I’m going to be okay.

I am happy to report that indeed self-care doesn’t have to involve expensive spa treatments or social-media-post-worthy events. If all you have are a few reflective minutes each day to give to yourself, you are on the right path. And you are most definitely worth it!

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