[xyzcf]

Thanks zartheit for sharing that piece of music. I had not heard of that musician before. Goes perfectly with my cappuccino this morning.

It hurts so much and for so long. We can all relate to the way you have described how you are feeling. It seems that we start to feel "better" then wham, we feel those intense thoughts and feelings, it's hard for others to understand. Seems many people "divorce" and do not seem to go through quite this much pain.

I function better when I understand what is happening to me. The things we feel are the body's way of regulating, responses designed to "protect" us from threats..the sympathetic nervous system gets turned on and if it stays turned on continuously,  that creates many of the physiological and mental things that we feel.

It wasn't for years before I was introduced to the idea that I had "PTSD"...I thought that was just for war veterans or rape victims....but indeed our whole blew apart without any warning and was completely out of our control.

My therapist, who specialized in trauma and mind/body connection introduced me to this polyvagal theory chart...and I could relate to what was written in front of me...and somehow that helped me to understand what I could do to get back to the green zone...and switch off the fight/flight/freeze response.

https://lissarankin.com/polyvagal-theory-interoception-a-neuroscience-understanding-of-attachment-trauma/polyvagal-chart/

In earlier years, when feeling so down and distressed, I could hold out my hand and it would be shaking. I'd do all the things I was trying to do to feel better, go for a walk, yoga, have a massage, but sometimes I needed to take an antianxiety medication to break the intensity of the damaging feelings and physical manifestations.

An example from my story, I had received the separation agreement (we were legally separated for 9 years after BD before he texted me, yes sent me a text message, that he was divorcing me...there had not been any discussion about this, and really no reason why). The day I signed the separation papers and put them in the mail, I felt ok. That night I was vacuuming when I started experiencing chest pain, after 45 minutes, when it didn't subside, I went to the ER where they kept me in...turned out that I was having an anxiety attack thank goodness.....it came upon me completely out of the blue, I knew the papers were coming, I didn't feel distressed after putting them in the mail...just an example of how our physiology can be affected by this mess

Coming here, reading others experiences and being free to write about what I was feeling, receiving the support of others also was immensely helpful. And "time" that dreaded word eased the pain, lots of time, therapy, lots of tears.

I had not had any of these issues prior to BD. I was a pretty stable and very happy woman that was shattered by this.....I am still hyper vigilant, anxious and "sad" and these I attribute to the loss of something that was so right from my point of view.

I do believe that facing these fears/anxieties/depth of intense feelings eventually helps us to heal...but it also cannot be forced...we must feel what we feel, and grieve for as long as it takes.

I am sorry that you are feeling this, I hope you feel a bit better soon.

[Treasur]

My experience was not unlike what xyzcf describes of her own.
Pretty stable, pretty happy, pretty optimistic, pretty resilient to that point for 50 years 
Then my father’s death, BD, bats&it crazy stuff from my h and ow, my mother vanishing into dementia, cancer……that was my personal tipping point, it seems.
I was also diagnosed with PTSD a couple of years later. Looking back, it seems obvious but like xyzcf I thought PTSD was for war veterans or survivors of rape or terrorist attacks.

My hands shook for years….it was so noticeable that people commented on it. I didn’t sleep through the night for years. I would be startled by loud noises, even the sound of a phone. Couldn’t read easily. Couldn’t remember things. Couldn’t listen to music. Weird triggers. And all despite my very best efforts at the time to do the basic sensible things.

Like xyzcf, I found understanding how the brain and body react to trauma was very helpful. The article she attached is gold imho. It helped tremendously to understand that it was not a failure of character but a systemic response, and that there was a way out to the other side of it. I would say I am about 95% better now, maybe a bit more, after getting EMDR and following that up with a slow plod of rebuilding activities. I am not the same woman I was before, but I am a million miles forward from where I was.

I think xyzcf and me and others who have experienced that level of anxiety are given to stepping forward when we think someone else might be on a slidey slope towards something that looks like PTSD. That may or may not be you. I think we would both agree that, regardless of what has/is happening with your marriage, there are times when it is appropriate to treat your wellbeing as an absolute priority if only for a little while. And that seeing an IC or coach who understands trauma responses, as opposed to more general talking therapy, is really helpful.

[zartheit]

Helpnewc
You're right. It was a gift. I've had the thought that our relationship was a pen that we wrote with until it ran dry. I don't regret those stories. While I wish we could have finished the tale, I did enjoy writing it.

Treasur
It's amazing how insightful you are. I didn't realize how deep into it I was. While I've never been diagnosed, I'm guessing I've had an on-again-off-again relationship with depression and anxiety. I'll go ahead and label my dad an in-home MLCer, with hindsight. All while my mom had multiple rounds of cancer. Not the best role model. I grew up in a fairly... rough area. I had multiple best friends die (at 14 and 23 years old, or so). I used to feel strong for having such a background, but I now see it as mostly tragic to have someone so young experience such things. I'm still trying to come to terms with the implications.

Anyway, thank you for the advice. Mostly due to you and xyzcf (thank you, truly, for such concern), I had an unscheduled session with my therapist yesterday in which I just cried for 50 minutes. I realize that I was doing everything I could to avoid feeling this most recent swell and she helped me to understand I just have to go through it once more. Afterwards I went to the gym to continue the workout that I was unable to do the day before. Today I went for an early morning game of disc golf.

Your suggestion for goals is good. I currently don't have any. Or rather, they're abstract things like "heal". I think adding some small hobby goals sounds quite useful.

Wrt fast cars, danger, fire, and knives, I've been doing quite well on that front. When everything started blowing up (wow over a year ago now) I stopped drinking and haven't really felt the desire to start it back up. I miss sex quite a bit but the desire seems mostly for the intimacy. To be honest, the thought of trying to get someone into bed just feels... I don't know. It's less romantic than effort or work, and I have no desire for such interactions. Which is strange because having a cute woman touch my arm while laughing sounds quite appealing. I don't know.

Thank you for the book recommendations! I am a huge reader (tend to have at least one fiction and non-fiction pair going at a time). I quite enjoyed The Body Keeps the Score! I've not read Second Firsts but it sounds good. I'll throw this on my queue; appreciate it.

xyzcf
Glad you liked it! I was listening to my "sad" playlist and thought it was appropriate.

The polyvagal diagram is very interesting. Wow! It definitely felt like some kind of block. I just... froze up. Reading the words shame, shut-down, hopelessness, trapped is like someone had a microscope into my head. The "prepared for death" is a bit frightening as I didn't quite make that connection. With that context, it did feel that I was longing for oblivion as some way of escaping the fear and sorrow.

And I definitely did not consider myself to have PTSD but I wonder now if it is more of a way to talk myself out of doing something more. Like you, I have been walking/hiking, exercising, meditating, eating healthy, etc but when the waves hit it feels like I'm tossed overboard, drowning. I don't mean to downplay the progress, as I'm glad I am not where I was this time last year, but I'm nowhere near where I... guess I expect to be. I have been meaning to learn patience but it is confusing at times. I don't know if I'm stuck and stagnating, or this is simply how one heals. For what it is worth, I've been meaning to talk with my therapist about EMDR, ketamine, and neurofeedback (thanks Body Keeps the Score), though have not.

I have read some of your story and it is heartbreaking. I have been quite impressed with your strength in handling it. When I imagine interacting with my ex-wife in similar circumstances I cannot envision being able to weather it. I did not know about learning of divorce over text. That is crushing.

we must feel what we feel, and grieve for as long as it takes

You're absolutely right, and I was petrified of that. It's not quite such a bitter pill to swallow for the moment, but it is what I believe got me so worked up.


If it wasn't obvious, I tend to write a bunch. My personal journal is like 400k words at this point. I'll spare the deluge but share some postcards.

We all build containers for ourselves. Primitives. Everything (ha ha) is about building these primitives, these containers, these bounding-boxes, forms, models, schemas. Outside of them is utter chaos. And inside of them is unbearably cramped. The Faustian bargain is that while you're inside, you get to ignore the chaos. Sure, you may have constructed a box against the grain, on a hill, taking the full brunt of the wind. BUT INSIDE you sip some tea, even as the creaking gets just a little more frightening. And the box eventually corrodes, degrades, explodes, slumps, or disintegrates. Maybe quite rapidly. You're left without your hermit shell. You're stuck on the winter beach feeling the raw caress of reality. You are forced to process the onslaught of information in all its density. You must inspect each piece of information using the bare primitives you were born with. Your lizard brain thrust upwards, graciously ascended to the throne and overwhelmed with the burden of ruling such a vast empire.

Love is a feeling. Love is no different from being horny or hungry or scared. It is in the same bucket. It's a feeling. Just a feeling. But like hunger, it clarifies some things. It inspires some things. It drives and guides some things. Those things, however, are value-dependent. Those things are at the mercy of people, of human beings. Love is brewed in the cauldron of humanity. How can you expect love to be stronger than that container? I don't know... but I did.

I want to be close to someone. I want to hug and snug and cuddle. I want to say "hey sexy" and hold her in my arms as we lay in bed and watch a show.
And I want to be so far away. I want to flee into the mountains, into the desert. I want to be as far from people as I can be. I want to be completely alone and isolated. I want to be unseen.
Unseen like I currently am... but by choice. To take my lot and flip it from condemnation into decision. To take back my power and transmute the pain of loneliness into the pain of... what?

She stopped interacting with me in a way I had come to expect. I had this weird epiphany that is hard to explain. Everything is a gift. She gave me so many gifts. She stopped. That's what happened. I can be upset and angry with her, and honestly that is totally fair and reasonable given the context, but really what happened was she stopped giving me gifts. Yes, I shifted my life around the expectation that these gifts would keep coming. They stopped and I had to scramble to fill in the gaps. It is very reasonable to be hurt and upset about their halting. But they are gone. They are not coming back. For whatever reason, she is unable to keep providing them.

It's not simple. It's so complicated. It was simple. Legible. Primary colors. Clean lines, distinct shapes. Now it's leaves on the ground, red and brown and green and yellow, staining the concrete from the river of feet and rain pounding on top of them. Now it's real life.
She was my first love. I gave her my heart. All of my heart. We checked the boxes and signed up for a life of happiness and fulfillment. All we had to do was sit and wait for death. It was so straight forward. It was so prescriptive. It was so clear and obvious.
It's origami now. I don't know if I'm folding or unfolding. I can't tell progress from back tracking.
I phase in and out. I want her. I'm ok without her. The pain is there when I look at it. Just a mountain of bubbling pain. It oozes over everything. Like a monster, it lunges at me when I make eye contact. I stare at the ground and hope I don't trip over its tendrils.
And I keep coming back to basecamp. Why. Why did she do it. Why does she feel this why. Why can't we work. Why did she have to go. Why. Why why why why why why why why why. Like a carpenter I assemble these whys to build a wall around the pain even though I can see that hurricane on the horizon. My picket fence can't stop it, but I don't know what else to do.

[xyzcf]

Thank you zartheit for your kind words. Tomorrow is our 46th wedding anniversary, still matters to me, always will. They were beautiful years.

Your journalling is raw and real...thanks for sharing that as well.

I wrote 13 notebooks in the year after BD, pouring out the pain with pen to paper. I had them for many years, but never reread them. While undergoing therapy 6 years ago, I was able to shred them. Never wanted our daughter to read what I had written.

There are several ways to handle the trauma, ketamine, EMDR, neuro feedback..you try things until you find the right fit. The work I did with my therapist got pretty wild at times.

As for how I deal with Mr xyzcf, I do see this as a "dis-ease" that is not something anyone would choose.Also, I would completely fall apart when I did have contact with him (not with him but afterwards) and I felt that I wanted to be able to not have him rattle me...he could not have that from me. I would become strong enough to stand in his presence and not experience the loss of my own being...as my therapist told me when I struggled with what to do about contact with him, for he never stopped contacting me..she said that I could choose to see him or not, and that I could change my mind about that as many times as I wanted..it did not have to be set in stone.

It is what I want , it fits my beliefs and is good for us as a family and it works for our small family unit. I do not usually reach out to him but he's often in contact weekly...very bizarre for such a successful executive..he'll send a text teasing me about the Broncos losing or this week it was an article about Costco selling gold bars and had I put this on my shopping list.

Honestly, you can't make this up.

Glad you had a therapy visit and as you know, it's good to cry and get it out..takes several times perhaps but the tears will subside.

[zartheit]

I'm sitting here listening to music, finishing the last of my coffee, and finding any excuse to procrastinate vacuuming. On my todo list for today is to go to the gym, get groceries, and of course vacuum. All of this is drab, and my intent isn't to waste your time, but to convey the banality of daily living. It's good. It's comforting. It's... how it is. A small campground along the perimeter of the blast zone, fed by the heat of the fire still burning in that pit. Not where I thought I would be, not really what I "want", but not bad.

I think the misery sine wave is winding down (I say as I still find myself filled with deep sadness and confusion). My biggest hurdles appear now mostly to do with locating and removing shards embedded during childhood. I now see how bad of an influence my father was, not with direct behavior but simply as lacking, missing. It appears he had his own midlife crisis after the death of one of his brothers. My mother had cancer, twice. She is one of the most compassionate people I know, but there was a fear there that had no way of being expressed. At least, not with the abilities I had at that time.

So life now has routines that are being worn into deep grooves as I type this. My intent is to have them as guard rails, not ruts. Last year I attended a few writing group meetings. I want to attend some again, just need to schedule it and push past the insecurity. They always turn out great once I do. There's a mycology society nearby and I'd like to check it out. There's a programming group that I've been meaning to join; now seems like a good time for it. I bought a starter-kit for crochet. I'm intimidated to unwrap the yarn but cold winter nights seem like a good tool to crack that nut.

Ok those are more "todos". Now I can mention some things I actually did. I took some friends on a hike. We drove for a few hours to eat breakfast at a small cafe in a town overlooking the sea before we continued up to the mountains. I finished that evening by having dinner with a friend to discuss what we planned to do during an upcoming trip to Japan he invited me to. I printed and hung up a poster (I'll embed at the end of this post). I attended a concert and danced like no one was watching. I complimented everything that drew my eye on those around me, and while I didn't make any new friends I quite enjoyed the experience. I was invited to a philosophy group meetup and DID make a new friend. A few days later we went to a pinball bar where I had a lovely time. He described me as fun and genuine, which I found cathartic in a way I can't quite describe. The wife of a friend consulted with me for ideas on how to celebrate his birthday. I'm looking forward to spending the day with them. I met up with someone nearby whose wife is also having some crisis. We have roughly the same bomb-drop date but she lives at home for the moment. It felt good to be there for someone in the same way that I needed (and need). I started finding things to be grateful for before eating instead of sporadically when I remember. It's only been a few weeks (or more? My sense of time is melted.) but it seems good so I'll keep it up. Still meditating every morning, and journaling.

Wow, when I write it all out, what is the problem, huh? It's funny how that works. A big setback was I left a friend's Halloween party early. I just... don't really mesh with them any more. It wasn't a bad interaction but it felt flat. My reaction to that flatness was grief and I didn't feel comfortable expressing that in their company. I had another concert to attend that evening but I couldn't. Instead of forcing myself, I got some nice food and went to bed early. I feel good to have listened to myself in that way.

My big goals are: heal, find/create purpose, build connections. I think healing is progressing, even if it is so much slower and more frustrating than I would prefer. I must admit that I am in a much better place, even if it isn't where I want to be or hoped I'd be. For a purpose, I'm lost. I'm drifting. I feel like I was fired out of a cannon, and while the pressure, noise, and heat of the barrel were awful at least the rifling gave me direction. I'm now high in the air charting some loose trajectory established in that crucible. I have a lot of good components, I just lack the internal structure to tie them together in a satisfying way. Unlike my ex-wife, I'm not going to throw this away but will instead maneuver slow and steadily. Amendments over rewrites. It is, however, exhausting and frustrating. I relate to her desire to feel differently; at times the urge is nearly overpowering. And for connections, that is what the above mentioned groups are for. I'm still shy to put myself out there. When I am confident, things just work but I've spent the past year building confidence in isolation. I now need to join group settings and feel out the wobble. I think it is a combination of fear of rejection for extremely valid reasons, and a lack of overall direction. I want to read more books on boundaries and relationships, but I think I have no real clear "goal" for things. When spirits are high, I tend to be quite engaged and witty. I don't mean to complain, as I really value those interactions because spending a few hours digging deep into strange subjects to mine humor is fantastic, but... I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking things.

As for my ex-wife, I miss her. I don't want to miss her. I would quite like to not think of her at all, but I do. I still want us to be together even though I can now see that it really is not possible. I spent quite a lot of time trying to find "her" perspective in various writings. I think I have enough distance now that I have some vague outline of it. Ignoring the hand-wavey statistics (which do NOT look good for another try), it all comes down to her. I never could have imagined she would behave this way but she has. Now that the impossible has happened, I have to hope for something impossible to happen another time just to have a fighting chance. Two once-in-a-lifetime events seems arrogant to expect. Yet I do, in some way. I don't know how to comfort that part of me. I'm sorry this is where we find ourselves.

I want to end this long post by thanking everyone on these forums. I am happy to have found such a positive and supportive alcove to endure this storm. I feel that the general values here are very much aligned with how I want to be.


Here's the poster. A reminder to myself more than anything. A few people commented on it, which was fun.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laWt6Nbx-h8

[forthetrees]

This woman does a great job teaching how to crochet a crown or tiara: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQEt7mgCqQw
When I was in the bouts of feeling low I´d make one with the intention of giving it away. As a newbie to crocheting the concentration required took my mind off of my woes. It looks complicated but is easy and doesn´t take long to make.

[zartheit]

forthetrees
Thank you! I like the combination of generosity and skill building.


It's been awhile! Here is some rambling journalling

I recently celebrated a ritual to honor my own rock bottom. I wanted something recurring where I could focus on myself. It had to be something deeply felt but I also didn't want it to involve other people, which ruled out bomb-drop. The day I chose seems quite small, but its impact on me was pretty big. The story goes that my ex-wife was on a work-trip and I was to meet up with her later. She wanted space so we hadn't communicated in some time. She then reaches out to me to share pictures of her having fun (parasailing, lounging on the beach, etc). I was thrilled she had chosen to communicate with me, even if I felt deeply pained by how impervious she seemed to the destruction of "us". In contrast, my own time was spent barely treading water. I would set timers where I would force myself to work until they expired. I wrote a report through a stream of tears. I ran a meeting where I'd have to ask people to repeat their questions because my focus had drifted into the pain in my chest, thankful that my tear-covered face was invisible behind my turned-off webcam. I made pacts to go for walks just so I could get out of the house. It was the darkest summer of my entire life. And that is when it became clear why she contacted me: "can you bring my jacket?"

I was beyond crushed. I was bellhop. I was a tool. I was trivial, replaceable, worthless. I tumbled into a surreal and parallel universe composed of nothing but pain and suffering. I remember the chill of the bathroom tile as I sobbed atop it recognizing that no one was coming to save me. At that moment I was not a human being. I was melted wax still hot from having been used by the flame. Getting up was probably the hardest thing I ever did. I still don't know how I did it.

That is the day I wanted to remember. That inner feeling of enough, of triumph, however faint, is what I wanted to celebrate. So I did. I spent a few days hiking around a small island. I would bring a book along and read at the summit. I didn't speak most of that time. I got blisters in my blisters. I drank terrible coffee. I listened to the birds. I admired the clump of mountains blooming from the horizon wedged between the sea and the sky.

Back when I was in college I had a vaguely similar time. I was recently dumped and home for the summer. I would wander around at unhinged hours. I kept returning to an outdoor track that I would run on. One night at probably 3am I ran a few miles, hard. I was laying on the grass looking up into the washed-out stars. I had the thought "I want to be a [what-I-ended-up-doing]." It was so sudden, so clear and vivid. It wasn't boastful or meek. It was a simple statement of fact. The clarity of it was immense. For the next decade that is exactly what I pursued.

I'd be lying if I were to say I didn't hope for a similar experience. I'd be lying if I were to say I'm not sad I didn't get it. There is no big revelation. There is no huge re-alignment. There is just me.

Some days this is more than enough. Other days have me lonely and longing for those good ol' days. I haven't communicated with my ex-wife in almost a year. I haven't seen her in almost 2 years. If I'm honest, it is quite obvious that there will be no reunion. We won't reconnect. We won't reconcile. I doubt I'll ever hear from her ever again. But I don't feel that. I don't believe it. And sometimes that is ok while at others it isn't.

The rest of my life is going well. I made some artifacts I am proud of that I intend to present. I have gotten more interested in spirituality than I ever have before, which I am genuinely excited about. I took on a friend as a roommate and am now asking him to leave. I still find him to be a great friend but I just want to be alone. He was very understanding, which I am grateful for. I have been making a point to reach out to people more and think I have found a balance, more or less. I started casually seeing someone. I made it clear to her that I want nothing more than what we have. I wanted to be extremely transparent so that she is able to decide for herself. It seems to be working for us both for the moment. At my job I am making good progress on a large project I'm running. My participation in other projects is recognized and appreciated. Things are going well.

I wrote once that we're all sandcastles on the shore. I believe that. All things fade away, fall apart, pass. Everything must change. This loss is unbearable. We don't bear it, we can't. We must let it reverberate. It must render us, melt us, disintegrate and dismember us. The wave passes through leaving nothing unchanged. A universal acid dissolving everything it touches. All we can do is stand aside and love those parts of us with their flesh stripped back. All we can do is sit lovingly, acceptingly, approvingly, of whatever form emerges from the crucible. We must be willing to lovingly receive whatever is unwrapped before us without expectation or judgement.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dpIUNMPqrI

[zartheit]

Back for some journaling. I was on LinkedIn deleting comments I had made on posts of my ex-wife (WHY was I doing this!?) when I noticed that she got a new job. The job looks like something perfectly suited for her. It isn't as "prestigious" as her old job, but I never understood what she liked about her old job.

I was shocked. It stung. I didn't understand why. I was phasing in and out of sorrow for days. I'm still a bit distracted. I wove such an intricate tapestry of self-pity and genuine happiness for her. Why couldn't she have tried this before leaving me? I hope her first weeks were enjoyable. Why did she leave me behind? I hope she is finding peace. Did she think I would have judged or not supported her? I hope this will be a fulfilling and creative outlet for her. I wish I could congratulate her. Why did it have to be THIS way?

Somehow I took a career change for an indictment on myself. I took an action someone else took and made it entirely about me. She didn't think of me at all. But this change does emphasize how thoroughly unraveled "we" are. We're dissipated reverberations. We're scattered ashes. We're sun bleached poloroids curling in an estate sale. There are so many nails in the coffin you can't even see the wood.

After the sorrow crested, I felt supreme detachment. I looked at her and saw an old childhood friend I hadn't spoken to in years. There was no malice, no hurt, no bitterness, no confusion. She was just a woman. She likely did some things she isn't quite proud of while at a strange place in her life. She doesn't hate me. She doesn't love me. The relationship wasn't bad but it was ultimately unfulfilling for her and she didn't see a way to rectify that. She felt stuck and trapped and alone. I saw her from the "outside". I drained all my identity from that super-structure called "us" causing it vanish completely.

I experienced, for a large chunk of time, a stable detachment that I had only imagined before. It's gone now. I'm sad for how "we" unraveled. There feels like insurmountable distance between us. What was pangea is now disconnected continents. I'm back in attachment, not fully able to let go of what was. Why won't she come back? Why won't she talk to me? Why won't she love me?

I can sit with this disappointment, sadness, loss, loneliness, fear, grasping, craving. It's more grief. I had forgotten it. I had believed I got rid of the last of it. I'll go easy on myself. I'll treat myself how I would treat someone else in this position. I'll tend to me gently. It'll be ok. It's ok right now, it's just sad.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-M680MCECs

[Evermore]

“It comes and goes in waves. It always does.
We watch as our young hearts fade. Into the flood.”

Hang in there zartheit. I’m feeling the same right now. The wave does pass.

[Helpnewc]

It is a strange conundrum.

Someone who mattered the most becoming completely disconnected from you. And accepting that and realising that part of your life is gone. It is just so difficult.

And my life is not better. It is much worse. And so is hers. And our kids. But there is nothing rational going on.


I used to wish I was a robot again. No feelings. There is so much pain. And you did not know it existed. Ignorance truly is bliss.

I would congratulate her. There is no harm and it is authentic.