I didn't know how lonely I was in the marriage until I was lonely alone

Understanding Loneliness

Dauphin Island
sand stuck to my skin
the sun scorches
laughing gulls highlight the silence
In loneliness I found presence

3 AM
sheets tangled as I toss
the other side cold and empty
exhaustion finally conquers
In loneliness I found rest

A Cruise Ship Balcony
wrapped in my grandma’s quilt
my gaze is lost in the horizon
hours feel like days
In loneliness I found peace

A Car Wash
neutral, dig through the menu, fold the mirrors
panic bubbles up
as the first wheels catch
In loneliness I found confidence

An Evening at Home
the hum of the fridge
the disruption of a train
I sink into my favorite chair with a view
In loneliness I found me

A Morning at My Kitchen Table
a year has passed
my mind wanders to the time before
I now see what I couldn’t see then
In loneliness alone I saw deeper loneliness with him

An Evening on the Couch
he sat in his recliner nearby
I got lost in the noise of YouTube
so I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled
In loneliness I disappeared

3 AM
I wake from a nightmare
the room is dark, his breathing heavy
I wipe my own tears and try to sleep again
In loneliness I endured

A Ride in the Car
aggression spilled out over a perceived offense
as he looked to me to agree with his actions
I kept my eyes down on my phone
In loneliness I feared

A Walk Through the Garden
he insisted on coming
yet waited impatiently on the bench
rushed, I photographed and move on
In loneliness I was unconsidered

A Sunrise at Sea
colors danced before a world at sleep
in awe, I turned to him to share the wonder
yet even in the rare times he was physically there, his stare was blank
In loneliness my joy was empty

A Morning at My Kitchen Table
a year has passed
even in my loneliest moments as a single
I am not truly lonely
My carefree joy has overcome

Comparison to 2020

Today's memory on social media was a series of photos I took of a male Northern Cardinal in 2020 that I felt reflected the times.  It also seems so fitting to the life I've lived over the past about 18 months that I must include it here.

This milestone feels different

One year ago today, I picked up the keys to this studio apartment I sit in as I sip my early morning coffee.  This space has become home.

Previous milestones have been a source of grief.  Just two months ago, I was feeling a major setback as it reached a year from when he told me it was over.  There have been countless other setbacks over the past year that came with upsetting reminders of what had been happening a year prior.

But today I just feel peace.

This is the first milestone where my initial reaction is celebration not sadness.  

Yesterday, I was reminded of the amazing community I have built that fills me with so much gratitude.  I poked my head into the offices of two of the women that were part of my weekend a year ago - one who helped me physically move everything and another who was part of a small group that took me out to dinner that Saturday evening.  Their excitement for me felt so supportive.

And then one suggested we go out to dinner this weekend to celebrate.  Another woman across the hall from my office expressed interest in joining us.  I poked my head in the office of a third woman I had been getting to know and invited her and although she needs to check her schedule she expressed interest in coming.  And then I sent two texts to women who we had all previously worked with but who had left.  One responded immediately excited to go.  The other is trying to make her schedule work because she really wants to come.  

That's five women who want to spend a Sunday evening with me and are trying to make their schedules work to do so!  And these are all amazing women.  

I think back to the old me, the one whose social circle primarily consisted of just her husband.  People at work didn't know me all that well.  My connections at church were pretty superficial.  My one real friend was half of a couple's friend.  I rarely went out.  Sitting at a table with a group of six would have overwhelmed me.  And I definitely wasn't organizing gatherings.  I didn't even have many people in my phone contacts that I could call on.

And so I sit here in awe at the transformation that happened over the past year.  I am in awe of the women who have stepped up when I needed community.  And I am in awe of myself for the way I put myself out there to find my people.  And maybe that is what makes this milestone feel like something really worth celebrating.

My first year living completely on my own and my evolution

Tomorrow is the anniversary of when I picked up the keys to my very first apartment all on my own.  Last year, September 20th fell on a Friday so it was a day like today.  I still had the opportunity to work from home on Fridays and so I worked the morning in the old apartment, picked up my keys at lunch, and then wheeled my desk to my empty new apartment and finished the day there.

I've come so far, grown so much, and my evolution has been fascinating to watch. Even this week there was another shift.  So as I got ready this morning, I've been walking myself through the various stages of my evolution over the last year.

The first stage was survival.  It was filled with lists to help me keep moving forward.  There were so many practical aspects that needed to be dealt with in a time when my emotions felt overwhelming.  Yoga and nature helped me soothe my nervous system as I faced it all.  And I started talking to be people, colleagues at work, people at church - this was the beginning of building community.

My next stage was my "yes" stage.  I think the turning point that pushed me into this stage was the moment I stepped out of the train station in New York City.  I stopped and said "oh shit what have I gotten myself into!"  Talk about overwhelming the senses!  And to be doing this for the first time all alone.  And then when I walked to my hotel, I couldn't avoid the grates that had always scared me so I boldly stepped over that first one.  From there I realized that the best way to find me again was to step outside of my comfort zone and get out there and try things.

From that point on, I made a point to say "yes" to any social event or activity that came up that I thought could even remotely be interesting.  Improv, life group, divorce support group, gatherings with friends, church women's retreat, joint choir singing opportunities, road trips, etc.  I don't even remember what all I filled my calendar with.  And although it wasn't sustainable long-term, I had a blast.  I learned so much about me and what I am capable of.  I met people.  I gained confidence in being out in the world as a single person.

I think I needed to get back on my feet in practical ways and start to gain more confidence in me before I was ready to process what had happened in the relationship and divorce.  That's not to say there wasn't some processing going on in the first two stages.  And there definitely was a lot of grief I was sitting through.  But I didn't really seriously start to process and dig into the work of healing until this third stage which I will call the mental processing stage.  That weekend in Gulf Shores in January where I disconnected is where I think I dipped my toes into this stage.

In the mental processing stage, I took a step back from the re-written history/narrative of our relationship he had tried to convince me was true, dug into some old journals, and spent time time with my own memories.  Sometimes it brought up even more doubts as some of the things he had said last summer finally reached my brain.  But the shifting through all that helped me separate his gaslighting from my own reality.

Although, it didn't happen right away, the rose colored glasses eventually came off during this stage.  I still can't believe how much grace I gave to that man, probably still do to a certain extent.

I don't know what this next stage will be but I feel like there was a turning point this week.  All the mental processing I was doing in my head over the last half a year became real when I physically saw it manifested in his next relationship.  I feel like I was granted a gift to go back and observe as a third party a glimpse of my relationship.  And it validated every conclusion I had come to in the mental processing stage.  It made me so glad to not be the one in that relationship anymore.

I still have more work to do and this new chapter is just beginning.  There is so much more of the journey left.  But I am in awe of the beautiful woman I am becoming and intrigued with the interesting life I am building.  And as I watch with admiration my parents' continuing evolution even as they reach their 70s, I look forward to more years of my own evolution.

My scooter has been a more constant set of wheels than any car.

It appears he bought another car.  The fully paid off vehicle he took in the divorce was only about 6 months old when the divorce was final in October.  He traded it in for a Hyundai in November or December.  Then he traded that one in for a Volvo in late March.  And now parked in his spot is an Audi electric SUV.  I would guess this purchase happened in the last few weeks.  I don't walk that way all that often but it wasn't very long ago that I couldn't find a lower level parking spot and so ended up parked in a spot near his.  I was only up wandering the higher decks of the parking garage this evening because I was intrigued with the scope of the construction work they are doing on the railroad tracks outside my apartment complex.

And to think he turned the blame around on me for all the cars he bought, claiming that every time I tried to slow him down, he responded by pushing more frequently (sounds like a toddler mindset to me).  He claimed my push back caused him to buy more cars than he otherwise would have.  Clearly that's not quite the truth though.  He's replacing them every 4-6 months now that I'm out of the picture.  We were on a 6-9 month schedule the last years of our marriage.

This week before I had even realized he had moved on to his next car, I was reflecting on my scooter.  It is well worn and has seen so many miles.  The handlebar is a bit crooked no matter how much I try to adjust and tighten it.  The wheels could really use replacing.  It has been with me for almost nine years now.  I've thought about upgrading.  A OneWheel or a Half-bike each intrigue me for different reasons.  But I haven't been able to bring myself to replace it.  

And that is when I realized, it has been a more constant set of wheels for me than any car I have ever owned.  It has been one thing that was totally mine.  It (and the lifestyle I built around it) has been the excuse I needed to not have to learn another car each time he brought a new one home.  In a way, it has been my silent protest about the rotating cars in my life.

All his attention was on the cat

I stepped out of the stairwell under the overhead walkway between my building and the parking garage.  As I unfolded my scooter, out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple on the steps leading to the garage.  His back was turned to me as he bent over and pet one of the stray cats that have made their home here.  She stood awkwardly, holding a bag with a silver hard-sided suitcase next to her.  Her eyes met mine.  He continued to focus all his attention on the cat.

She seemed impatient maybe even drained.  There wasn’t a light (a spark, a joy) in the way she held herself.  And it seemed very odd that if he was seeing her off after spending the night (or several nights) together that his attention would be so focused on the stray cats that he sees every day as they spend significant time on his patio.  

This post is about my ex-husband and the woman he has been seeing since probably late June.

I saw myself in her and in what I had escaped.  And I realized that the transformation in me (the loss of my light) likely was slow and happening even before I started acknowledging the shift in my journal entries.  

I am reminded that the first time he picked me up in his car (one of our earlier dates), he explicitly told me how important his car was.  I laughed it off at the time.  It makes me wonder though how many other little things followed that explicit statement that kept me at a distance and the ways I (perhaps subconsciously) tried to push back against that to convince him I was worth a higher priority.  

I wonder if my energy wasn’t just lost to having to constantly help him manage his own emotions but also to fighting for my own space and worth.

As I scootered away this morning, I couldn’t help but laugh.  Relief rushed over me at no longer being in a relationship with someone unwilling to prioritize me.  I no longer had to wait while he focused his attention on the things that mattered more than me.  And  I saw the humor in how oblivious I was to something that likely was quite obvious.  

This chance to observe their encounter allowed me a rare glimpse as an outsider looking in.

An evening in the park

I walked through my favorite park well after the sun had set tonight.  My therapy bench was empty and has a beautiful view of the city lights and their reflection in the pod.  A couple sits together on a blanket with a candle.  A man sits alone under a street light with a journal.  Some has hung a hammock between two trees.  Several dogs walk their owners.  A train rattles on the tracks as it passes by.  The announcer for the minor league playoff game can be heard along with a cheering crowd at times.  A heron squawks in a nearby tree.  The air is still heavy from the lat summer heat.

There is a quiet within me, an acceptance of where I might be headed with a bit of impatience as I wait for it to unfold.  I still feel a pull towards my ex-husband and a desire to know what he is up to but a welcome distance from it all.  If he is repeating his patterns, I expect he is in the dopamine filled stage of dating where he thinks he found the one and she thinks he is the greatest man she ever met.  

That was a fun stage of my life.  Yet I have no desire to go back because I now know what follows.

I think about my new future. Today I stood in a colleague’s office who casually mentioned he had heard I might be moving on to something else. I panicked a moment because I had not shared with him my opportunity and so came the realization that it was spreading further than I wanted.  But then he wished me well and encouraged me if this was a good move for me and that made me smile as a rush of feelings washed over me.  I have made it to the point where this opportunity now feels completely right.  I hope I haven’t gotten my hopes up too much in case it falls through but even my Dad said something last week about how this might be really good for me.

A breeze rushes through my hair rustling the leaves in the tree above me which brings me back to this space, this beautiful park which has become my calm, my grounding, my perspective over the last 16 months.  Maybe it’s time to find a new space.  Maybe it’s time to let go.

Red Roses

Today's social media memory is from six years ago.  

It felt such a momentous moment that I actually interrupted my bird and wildlife photography Instagram feed to post about them.  I think I can count on one hand all the times he bought me flowers during the more than two decades we were together.  I was always okay with it because I had convinced myself I didn't want to "waste" money on flowers but how much money did we "waste" on cars?  If we had bought one less car over our marriage, how many bouquets of flowers would that have equaled?

But besides the infrequency, what stood out most to me today was the fact that they were red roses.  There is nothing about me and my personality that says red roses.  My favorite flower is the daisy.  Carnations had a special meaning for us (flowers I gave him when we were dating).  I told stories about Black-eyed Susans.  I always admired the most multi-colored bouquets we saw.  I had planted so many other varieties of flowers in our garden when we owned a home but not one single rose bush.  I am anything but traditional red roses.  

And as I reflected on this today, it hit me.  His Mom loves red roses.  He bought the flowers his Mom would have wanted.

The tears rushed down my face as the pain hit me of all the ways he didn't take the time to learn about my preferences, desires, needs, etc.  Even when on the rare occasion he did something special for me, it was still about him and what he felt I should want, need, etc.  Or maybe it was about his relationship with his Mom.  Maybe I was just a stand in for his Mom.

Finding the Beauty

I went in search of beauty today.  It didn't take away the pain or make the anger disappear.  But it grounded me.  It made me slow down.  It settled my restlessness.  It balanced the ugliness with gratitude.  

First I spent about an hour and a half at my neighborhood park watching the breeze dance on the pond. The trees, trains, and people's reflections in the water went from clear to wavy to obscured and back again over and over.  It reminded me of the influences on perspective and the multi-dimensional way I see the world.  And it made me smile at its beauty.

Then I went to my local Botanical Gardens where I paused in the Formal Rose Garden to breathe in the fragrant scent of the late summer roses before I continued into Ireland Old-fashioned Rose Garden which is my favorite space at the Gardens. I started following a group of Cloudless Sulphur butterflies with my macro lens when two Ruby-throated Hummingbirds zipped past me, so close they rustled my hair. Amidst the quiet, I noticed their chatter. I had never heard their voices before so I just stood there in awe as so many of them circled around me.  I leaned in wanting to learn hummingbird speak.  The sunlight would occasionally catch the iridescent green on their backs or the ruby spot on their throats.

My next stop was a poetry reading a friend had invited me to.  I spent an hour immersed in the powerful words a number of talented poets, enthralled as their ideas tumbled in my mind.

When I got home, I plugged my car in, edited my photos, and then walked over to the brewery across the street for tacos and beer.  I brought my journal along hoping to do some writing but instead just took in the atmosphere of their patio with a light breeze and a dew point that had dropped to 60*F as groups gathered and conversed over good food and drink.

I now watch the sun slowly slip towards the horizon as my apartment grows darker.  I get up to turn on the soft light of my table top lamps and watch the changing colors of the sky.  Railroad workers climb off the tracks to the pick up van that has just pulled in signaling the end of their shift.

My mind wanders in the silence of my studio.  I still think of him.  There was an easiness to my day that I long to turn into something comfortable but I'm not quite there yet.  So I'll just sit through this knowing that soon it will pass.  In the meantime, I'm really enjoying reclaiming my joy and energy.

Change is Uncomfortable

This showed up in my Threads feed today.  It felt like this woman had gotten into my head and put into words what I have been experiencing.  It's kind of nice to know that I'm not alone out there in what I'm going through.

Change is uncomfortable.  It requires effort, energy, and stepping into the unknown.  And it requires letting go.  I struggle to sever this last string because it is letting go of the life that felt most comfortable.

The Ghost of Him

It's not even a ghost.  Being in a first floor apartment facing the main courtyard with his easy chair next to the window, it's hard not to see his feet up through the half-drawn blinds in the window when the lights are on as I walk past.

I told my therapist that I need to cut this last string, that I still feel his presence living in the same building.  She suggested a good blog post would be on how to ghost bust.  But as I reflect deeper, it's more than his ghost.  If he had moved out of this apartment complex and I had stayed, it would have been just his ghost haunting me as it does in many places throughout this city that we made our home seven years ago.  There's even one bench at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens where his ghost lives so it's not even limited to just this city - it's all the places we made regular memories at.

The problem is that he didn't move out of this building so it's not just his ghost that remains but also his actual presence, his car parked in the VIP space that used to be ours, the patio chairs we picked out together, the recliner I can see through the window that had been with us longer than I can remember, etc.  

And he picked an apartment off the main courtyard that I walk through multiple times a day, so I know when he has been out multiple nights in a row and when he has been home every night for the past week.  So I can make assumptions that he seems to get to telework every other week and that he has an every other week girlfriend (probably opposite the weeks she has placement of her two teenage daughters).

That leads to feelings and thoughts I wish I could expel.  Although I'm not envious of her.  I now know the honeymoon period doesn't last.  But I'm a bit envious of him having a built in person to go out with on a regular basis.  Everything about my social network takes so much work.  I don't have a default person to call on a regular schedule.  Almost all my friends have partners of their own that are rightfully their first priority. 

And as a woman in our current climate where reproductive rights are under attack, our leadership is dismissing domestic violence as not crime, and young men are being radicalized by podcasters, it doesn't even feel safe to enter the dating world if I was even ready to find a default person to call on a regular schedule.  Maybe I am envious of her in that regard because he was a safe person for that purpose even if he wasn't able to step up in a real relationship.

My rational brain knows that my long-term future is so much brighter and that his avoidance has likely continued such that it will have lasting negative consequences for him in the long-term but it just doesn't feel fair in the short-term.  I know my Mom recently reminded me that life isn't fair but it doesn't lessen the pain and reminders.

And then I wonder how much of all of this would just disappear from my thoughts if I didn't know these things about him.  If I could just focus on me without worrying about whether he was suffering any consequences or learning anything from his horrible behavior, maybe I could get past this next hurdle.  

It's like I'm stuck in this cycle.  And to be honest, I've been stuck in it for over two decades.  With every car purchases, I watched him temporarily fill with joy when the dopamine hit of the new car while I sacrificed - the hours in pain on the dealership floor, the trips to the Department of Revenue, the loneliness of the hours he spent in the garage.  I just have to remind myself that with this last and final cycle, I finally get me back and nothing could be more important for my long-term future.

So now I just wait to hear on the Atlanta job.  That would be one great way to cut that last string and it would be such a great step towards building what I want for my life long-term.  And if that doesn't pan out, it's time to start working on Plan B.

Dark-eyed Juncos

Years ago we owned a house in Brookfield, Wisconsin on a very small lot that was incredibly secluded because of the density of trees that surrounded it.  We put up bird feeders, even asking my Dad to build us a large platform one for the larger or more social birds.  And then we put a large piece of paper on the fridge with room to write the bird species we observed down the first column and boxes to check off which months they appeared across each row.

That first October (probably 15 years ago) we were tracking birds, the sunlight hit just right as a new to us species arrived in our yard.  A hint of blue reflected off its dark back.  The inexperienced birder in me jumped to conclusions based on the size and that reflected blue color and marked it down as an Indigo Bunting in its non-breeding plumage.  I was so excited to have such a beautiful bird visit my yard.

That first year, they (a small flock of what I had labeled Indigo Buntings) kept to the ground so I never really got a good look at them.  And then they moved on, migrating.

I watched closely that next October.  I couldn't wait for the return of what I thought were Indigo Buntings.  And they arrived right on schedule except the light didn't hit them the same that October.  They were just a charcoal gray, still a beautiful color but not the flecks of blue I remembered from the year before.  

By this time, I had a year of birding experience under my belt so I looked a little closer and I checked my birding apps for more clues.  And in doing so, I discovered they were actually Dark-eyed Juncos which honestly made a whole lot more sense.  Indigo Buntings don't winter in Wisconsin.  There is no reason they would have showed up in October and hung around.  The beak wasn't right either.  It was an amateur mistake in misidentifying them based on a first impression in just the right lighting.

They returned every year.  And each year they got a little more comfortable in my yard and eventually started spending time on my platform feeder so I got to observe them even more.  They are a bird I look for every winter as they fly south from northern Canada, even though it takes a bit more effort to find them now that I don't have a backyard where they naturally congregate.  But to this day, I always remember them first as an Indigo Bunting.  It's hard to undo my impressions of this adorable little bird from my first winter getting to know them.

Maybe that's why it is so hard to undo my impressions of my ex-husband from our first year together when he showed up and presented himself as such an amazing person from an amazing family.

Social Media Algorithms

I spend too much time on social media.  At one point last January I even stepped away completely from it for a month.  At the end of that break, I told myself I wouldn't put the apps back on my phone so they wouldn't be so easy to access even if I did start logging in again.  That didn't last.

I'm not saying it's all bad.  My Instagram accounts are really positive spaces.  I have curated one account to be just nature photography and the other account to be just travel posts.  IG has helped me find an online community to share my hobbies.

Facebook I have kept locked down.  I joined really late (during the pandemic) and only accept friend requests from people I know in person.  Although my feed still gets filled with other stuff, most of it is just entertainment.

It's Threads where I have more mixed feelings and where I have been able to watch the algorithm shift in real time in ways that I don't think are positive.  That's not to say some great conversations don't take place on Threads - they absolutely do.  But users only get to see a fraction of what exists and it is narrowly tailored to what Meta thinks that individual wants to read (and thus will keep them on the app longer).  

If you want to confirm all your biases, this (or any social media really) is the place to go.  And the worst part is that most people don't even realize it.  Every day there are posts from people wondering why "everyone" thinks X or does Y.  The reality is that the algorithm just thinks they only want to see X or Y and nothing else, so those are the only posts that person sees.  That leaves us all in silos, divided from one another, which in my opinion is really detrimental to our society and relationships.

When I am conscious this is happening, I will sometimes seek out posts of opposite views and start interacting with them which will then start to steer the algorithm to show me something different.  But it takes conscious effort to do that and my own biases likely still get in the way of manipulating the algorithm enough to find a real balance.

So why is all this relevant to this blog?  Because I spend too much time on social media.  In turn, my thought process, maybe even my emotions are influenced by the algorithm.  Here I thought I just had to get my ex-husband out of my head to find myself but in reality, I also have to battle the algorithm.

It's also really concerning to watch how easily people get stuck in uninformed perspectives to such a degree that they not only don't see the other side but even when they come across something contrary, they can't find a way to fit it into their worldview.  I've written before about how our mind can be quick to reject that which doesn't fit our worldview.  

This division that only gets deeper based on so many uninformed or incomplete perspectives is really scary and unsettling.  It makes me fear for the future.  It leaves me feeling alone.  And I feel really angry that my ex-husband abandoned me at such a time in such a way that I not only have to now face an uncertain world alone but I also have to at the same time process and heal from the pain he caused.  Sometimes one becomes a distraction for the other and other times they both hit me at the same time and overwhelm me or like today, numb me.

Physical pain reminds me of emotional pain

I fell up the stairs, carrying my lunch box and scooter as I climbed up to the second floor where to my apartment.  I quickly picked myself up and then made what seemed like a longer walk than normal down the hall and around the corner.  Once inside my apartment with the door locked behind me, I sunk to the floor and the tears started to roll.  

I wasn't seriously hurt, just a few scrapes on my elbow and hand that don't even need bandaids and probably a bruise that will form on my leg.  But the sting I felt on my elbow seemed a proxy for the sting I still feel about how my ex-husband had treated me.  And as I sat there alone, on the floor, I was reminded of the emptiness of his promises.  You know, I wasn't missing him though.  If we had still been together, I would have tended my wounds on my own.  I would have been just as alone even if I felt a superficial comfort to the fact that we shared physical space.

I'm feeling off this week.  I'm sleeping more than usual but still tired every day.  And I'm more restless and unsettled than normal.  I spent more than hour yesterday evening on my "therapy bench" at the local park as I watched the sunset.  My reaction to this fall doesn't surprise me.

How my mind works

I'm reading the book titled Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman and finding it quite fascinating to better understand how my mind works.  And it's really quite relevant as I try and make sense of why I made the decisions I made, how I chose what to ignore, and what I was willing to tolerate for so long.  It's applicable not only as I heal from my divorce but also as I make sense of the ways I interact with friends, family, colleagues, etc.  So although my understanding is still in its infancy, I'm going to try to put together some of my thoughts here.

Most of our day is governed by the intuition of our System 1.  System 1 is constantly taking information in, making associations, and recommending decisions to our System 2 which accepts a lot of those recommendations without too much thought.  System 2 is our more conscious thought process that kicks in when there is something that we feel needs more analysis.

One really interesting point Kahneman made was that if our cognitive load is high it can overload our System 2 such that our System 1 has to step in and make decisions without the benefit of the analysis available to System 2.  This can result in making less than ideal decisions that take into account a very limited portion of the information we have.

So in the case of my ex-husband, I now realize he and the relationship really drained me and based on my physical pain, there likely was underlying stress.  These are things that would have increased my cognitive load and made my thought process more inefficient, depending more on System 1 for things that System 2 probably should have handled.

Now let's talk about biases.  Confirmation bias is a bias I was previously aware of although hadn’t really considered the extent of the role it plays.  It is the idea that based on our prior experience and beliefs, we have a preconceived idea of how something should be and so we focus more on the facts that confirm those beliefs and ideas.  Our brain much prefers when things fit neatly into the world view we already hold.

The halo effect exaggerates emotional consistency.  It puts more weight on the information we learn first, our first impressions.  Subsequent information is mostly wasted.  

The author gave an example from his teaching days.  Each of his students had written two essays that he needed to grade.  At first he read both essays for each student one after another.  What he found is that a student who had written a strong essay for the first one and a weak one for the second one would ultimately receive higher scores overall than a student who had done the same but in reverse order (a weak one first followed by a strong one).  His impressions and assumptions about the student he gained from the first essay were strongly influencing how he graded the second one.

So if I put myself back at the beginning of the relationship with my now ex-husband, I was coming in with a world view of what I thought marriage was.  My parents have a stable marriage with reasonably good communication that they modeled for us.  Throughout my life I had watched them consider each other in small and big ways.  This was honestly all I really knew in any depth about marriage.  So I went into this marriage looking to confirm that my marriage would be the same.

In addition, we had quite the amazing first year.  He was showing me all kinds of ways he was considering me and pouring into me and our relationship.  He was kind.  He was attentive.  He was fun.  He was supportive.  And he was sharing the same values I held.  His parents were even doing the same in the way they were welcoming and loving me.  They were all on their best behavior giving off a pretty great first impression.  That first year of positive impressions held so much weight in my mind that when things shifted, it was easy to ignore the new information.  That new information was wasted.

Kahneman repeats often what he has abbreviated WYSIATI, "What you see is all there is" to describe the mental shortcut we use when we don't account for missing information.  I suppose that applies to both information we have not yet come across and information we have chosen to ignore.  

I held on so firmly to the image of him that showed up in that first year probably because it was my first impression of him and also probably because the new information was so incongruent with that earlier version of him and with my world view.  For cognitive ease, my brain focused on the earlier impressions that fit more easily into my world view. 

And then as life got stressful in those early years of marriage and I then developed chronic pain, my cognitive load increased to the point I imagine I was depending too much on System 1 to get me through each day.

I'm not going to spend the time to elaborate here but I can see ways this is relevant to friendships I've had over the years as well.

So knowledge is power, right?  Theoretically, if I know my mind will try to take these mental shortcuts and follow my biases, I should be able to use that information to pause and give my System 2 time to better reflect on relationships in my life.  I say this recognizing that my ability to predict my future actions is pretty poor.  But understanding the traps I’ve previously fallen into will make me more aware of what to look for in the future to try and avoid repeating some of those same mistakes.

My Paintings and the Insight They Might Provide

As I brushed my teeth this morning, I took time to actually look at the paintings in my bathroom and then the ones in my living room as I followed this train of thought.  There was a time in my life where I got into acrylic painting.  With each move, I disposed of more and more of the paintings I had done, especially the larger ones and most recently the ones my ex-husband and I did as a pair.  But I held onto nine that I still really liked.

There are four of them though that really caught my attention this morning.  They are different from the rest in that they are a bit dark.  The remaining five are much more positive with things like birch trees, whimsical flowers, black-eyed Susans reaching for silver clouds, etc.  

My focus had always been the beautiful monarch while I ignored the spiraling hole ready to suck the monarch into the unknown.

Chaos inside the home, looking out at the peace outdoors

Two sparrows in a hurricane (there is a country song about this) -
the reds and yellows are such angry colors

The opposites of sky and sea/day and night and getting caught in the wrong one.  
Nothing is quite as it seems.

My mind is trying to place them in a context.  I didn't take any photos of them in real time and so I believe they must have been before I got my first smartphone in early 2016 (yes, I was very late to the smart phone scene).  I don't think I got into painting until sometime after we bought our house in 2010.  So they were likely painted between late 2010 and 2015.  The problems we had as a couple that lead us to couple's counseling were later (2017 and 2018).

I don't actually remember any problems during that time period.  I was learning to garden and getting distracted by the butterflies that my flowers would attract.  We were setting up bird feeders in our backyard and had a list on the fridge of all the species we had seen and in what months.  I would hang laundry out on the lines even in the winter and the chickadees would keep my company.

We were starting to travel a bit more on our own.  I was tracking all the state parks we visited as we tried to get to them all.  I was singing in the Brookfield Civic Chorus and he had gotten into Tae Kwon Do.  He was finally in a career he enjoyed.  I was still finding my way as this was the early years of my transition to the legal field.  These were the years I drove some fun VWs, probably my favorite cars, first Lolita the diesel Jetta, then Snowflake and Cielo, two Beetle Convertibles - all stick shifts.

My chronic pain got to its worst in the middle of this time period (late 2012 to probably at least 2015).  I think it was in 2012, I started working with a really good therapist (so the beginning of some real growth for me), first to overcome my phobia of needles so it was likely later that year, I started with the WISH clinic to try and treat my pelvic pain.  Sadly, the treatments I went through with them spread the pain to my hips and lower back so what once was just pain during intercourse became a daily, constant, excruciating pain.  

Is the darkness in these paintings a reflection of the physical pain I was experiencing?  And if that physical pain was a response to (perhaps subconscious) stress from my relationship (which I think is quite possible), could the darkness in these paintings be a reflection of something deeper?  

And isn't it interesting that when I think back on those years, I first am reminded of all the joy before the pain even comes to my mind?  Just think of the way this post progressed from "I don't actually remember any problems during that time period" to a description several paragraphs later of the "excruciating pain" I was experiencing in those years.

I don't know that I got any answers from this journey this morning reflecting on these paintings but it was a bit fascinating to contemplate.  I don't want to end this post though without a reminder of the joy I found during this same period, so here are the other five paintings I did.

This one was probably a bit later because I know it was painted at the Milwaukee Art Museum during their spring Art in Bloom event - so this was probably April of 2017 or April of 2018.

My relationship with my body

I stood in front of the mirror this morning as I combed my hair and put deodorant on and danced a bit in my underwear.  My relationship with my body has changed so much over the past year.

Before the separation, I'm not sure I ever truly saw myself.  I didn't spend much time in front of the mirror.  I think there were many days I didn't even look in the mirror before going out - running a comb through my hair as I focused on something else seemed like enough.  Once or twice, I caught myself with my shirt on backwards or inside out and got a good laugh but other than that I didn't pay much attention.

I don't know that I had a negative image of myself, maybe more of a neutral image, but in hindsight I wonder if a comment my ex-husband made to me years ago stuck with me more than I thought it did.  I guess the fact that I still remember it probably answers that question (this isn't one of those things I had forgotten but recently read in a journal entry, it's something that stuck in my memory without having to record it).  He told me he didn't find me attractive anymore.

That all changed on August 8, 2024.  (I know the exact date because I actually wrote about it here.)  That was the first day I took the time to pause and really look at myself.  Even before I went back to find the blog entry and the exact day, the moment and the way I felt in that moment is still very vivid in my mind.

Then last September, I joined a divorce group where each week we were encouraged to write a mirror message to ourselves (a post-it note that we put on the mirror that week) which brought me back to that mirror more and more.  Each time I looked at the reflection looking back at me I saw more of myself.

And then I stopped shaving my legs.  It took some time to once again get used to how it looked and felt.  I leaned into that experience, paying attention to every feeling, thought, and sensation.  It connected me to my body in a way I didn't expect.

Through it all, I was also tracking my weight loss, concerned about how fast I was losing weight which made me more in tune with my eating, sleeping, and exercise habits to try and find a better balance.  I was also noticing the changes to my chronic pain, my menstrual cycle, and even the beginning of some night sweats during the most stressful times.

As I finally found space to truly feel all of life's emotions, I started to notice the ways my body warned me of things I didn't yet fully understand on a conscious level.  I still have so many moments like that.  Someone will say something or a thought will cross my mind and a flush of sensations will unexpectedly rush through my body making me completely pause.

And there was the joy I finally felt free to experience in the way dresses swirled around me, in how bright colors lifted my mood, and even the feel of heavy rain soaked fabrics as I danced in the rain.

I don't know that I had a real negative body image before, at least not on a conscious level.  But I definitely didn't see the beautiful woman I see now.  I didn't take the time to admire and experience the awe of the complexity and wonder of my body.  I don't recall ever dancing in front of the mirror in my underwear as I got ready in the morning.

Thankful

I spent some time at Artwalk last night, a weekend event where they close down the street, set up hundreds of booths for artists to sell their work, have poetry readings and songwriter showcases, and restaurants spill out onto sidewalks while food trucks pull up.  I bought a bag from an artist with the quote that really resonated with me especially with all I've done the last year, "When writing the story of your life, don't let anyone else hold the pen."

And then I ran into someone from choir.  I showed her my new bag and she told me that she has been lurking on my Facebook and is really glad I'm finding my way.

Along the same lines, I have a colleague at work who has told me she is fascinated watching my evolution and how I have come out of my shell.  She said she didn't know how interesting I was until this last year.  This week I admitted to her that I'm pretty fascinated by my own evolution too.

With these thoughts in my head, I walked home yesterday evening with my new bag and I thought to myself, the only thing left I would say to my ex-husband (if given the chance) is "Thank you for the lessons I learned from our relationship.  I just wish you hadn't been so cruel when the lessons were over."

If we had stayed together, he would still at times be holding the pen as my story was written, maybe not through the specific decisions I made (I didn't fully give up my autonomy) but through the way he defined me and limited the space for me.

I sometimes wonder if I would have so boldly stepped out into this journey of (re)discovering myself in my 20s if I had stayed single for some time instead of marrying so young or even in my 30s if we had separated when he had developed feelings for and was investing in his boss more than he was investing in me.  In either case, I likely would have stayed close to home, maybe even temporarily moved in with my parents, and thus leaned on family a lot more.  In my 40s now, being so far away and having had life experiences that built so much independence, I was both forced to and better equipped to dive into building something better completely on my own.

The thought has also crossed my mind that if he had ended the relationship with integrity, empathy, and clear communication, would I really have learned these same lessons?  Would it have been enough of a push to evolve in the direction I'm currently headed?  Maybe the cruelty (as painful and difficult as it was) was part of the lesson I needed to learn.

So now that I feel the weight of the pen back in my hands, I am truly grateful and hopeful to watch this new life I'm building unfold.  I know more about who I am than I did even a year ago.  I have more direction.  My life has more meaning and purpose.  And I am lighter, freer, and more joyful than ever before.

Grace

It's been more than a year since the separation and I still have grace for him.  I see with clarity the way he drained my energy, dimmed my light, and put a lid on my joy and I still have grace for him.  I've sat in the pain he caused, pain that still shows up from time to time, and I still have grace for him.  In discovering my own likes and preferences, I'm reminded of how I often I just took the leftover instead of what I wanted, and I still have grace for him.

Why?

In therapy last night, we talked a lot about the fantasy him vs. the real him.  In reflecting, he put on so much pretense that I struggle to separate the two versions of him.  In looking for some completely unrelated e-mail this morning, I stumbled upon one he sent me from August 2019 that starts in larger font "You're the One for Me" and then goes on to describe so many reasons why I'm the one for him.  Was that pretense?  Was that real?  Some mix of both?  There were highs like this (and others that involved more concrete actions) throughout the entire marriage.  Did the real him show up in any of these moments?  Or is the real him just the low moments including the way he ended it all?

I think grace allows me to leave room for that which I do not understand.  I recognize that very little in life is black and white.  Most things are far more complex and nuanced.

There were too many things about him that truly felt genuine even all the way to the end.  As one example, someone out to intentionally cause pain would have made the divorce a painful process.  I've seen it happen with so many others but I actually experienced the quite opposite - he was so cooperative and willing to compromise as we divided the material aspects of the life we had built together.  That doesn't excuse or dismiss the pain he did actually cause but it leaves room for nuance and grace as I evaluate the entirety of the relationship.

So as my perspective of him lands heavily on the view that he is a very troubled human running from himself vs an intentionally manipulative selfish person, I think my perspective is landing there with some clarity and not necessarily because I still have rose colored glasses on.  Maybe I'm wrong about that but I really don't think my judgment of people is that far off.

I will carry me home.

Last night, long after sunset, my plane took off from the international airport on the southwest side of Atlanta and then did a circle of Atlanta before heading west to take me back home.  I was on the left side of the plane behind the wing next to the window and took in every second of the lights, the skylines, the magic of the moment.  And I took a whole bunch of videos and photos of it to remember later.

As we then left the metro Atlanta area and the ground grew darker, I looked for a song on Instagram for a story with one of these videos I had just taken and came across the song "Carry You Home".  Here's the lyrics that especially stuck with me.

Oh, I hope you know I will carry you home
Whether it's tonight or 55 years down the road
Oh, I know there's so many ways that this could go
Don't want you to wonder, darlin', I need you to know

It may have been written as a love song between a man and a woman but last night, it was a love song to myself.  There are so many ways my life may go but I will always be there to carry myself home (wherever home may be at the time).  

It was a really nice reflection the end of what felt like a whirlwind weekend with my parents, sister, and her family.  I had so many great conversations, especially with parents.  They reminded me of my strength.  They helped me see some new options I could consider.  They saw hope.  And they reminded me of how loved I am.  I may be forging my own path alone now but not without a love and support surrounding me in every step.