I was left. Left by the person I thought was “my person.” I was also lied to, in a rather shocking and remarkable way. The details aren’t particularly important right now; not for the purpose of understanding each step I took in my journey to heal.
They say the best place to start is the beginning, and so, I’ll start there [sort of].
My world started to fall apart and one of the hardest things I had to learn was what to share, who to share it with, and when to share it. In the mix of all of the other emotions I was experiencing on a daily basis (and still do, if I’m honest), humiliation was at the top of the list. I was embarrassed that I had been left and in such an epic fashion. I was ashamed that I couldn’t quiet the hope within me that I would wake up and find out it was all a bad dream. I was mortified every time I discovered a new fact that seemingly made the situation worse, or painted me as a bigger fool. You get the point.
So, the biggest part of me didn’t want to share my story with anyone because I was horrified imagining how people would view me after hearing it. I was also pretty private and the idea of revealing the deepest, most vulnerable parts of me seemed completely unreasonable. And yet, I had all these feelings inside of me and I was pretty incapable of uttering the words “I’m fine.” Knowing I was indeed “not fine,” I had to begin to look at what it meant to share.
There were three general categories of people or situations that I had to face: the good friend who was genuinely concerned about me; the acquaintance/co-worker/neighbor/removed family member who would ask about my relationship in the normal course and sort of cared but not really; and the folks who likely didn’t care at all, but were forced to bear witness to my spectacular unraveling. I had to sort out how to navigate through each of those categories, each personality, and each unique (and horrifying) situation.
As disclaimed already, I cannot offer brilliant words of wisdom to help everyone figure this part out. I can, however, offer my thoughts and experience.
Before I shared anything with anyone, outside of immediate family and my closest friends, I had to figure out what I had done; the role that I played in the whole messy business. Under the worst of circumstances, it still takes two people to capsize a relationship. I realized quickly that I had been complacent and blind. I had also done something years prior that I hadn’t imagined would be a lifelong game changer but I later recognized it would be used as a cudgel against me. Even though I had made peace with this dishonest and weak moment in my life, I had to explore it all over again to make sure I fully understood what had happened. Long story short, I didn’t spare myself any bit of history in my self-exploration, including those moments where I was the furthest thing from a shining star.
I did get professional help to aid in that self-exploration. It isn’t for everyone I guess, but it was for me. It helped. I didn’t feel guilty wasting a therapist’s time by circling over the same information again and again. I also received some insight I hadn’t landed on myself. I want to make clear that the first therapist I tried DID NOT WORK. I needed to try two before I found the one that worked best for me. Had I needed to move on to a third person, I would have done that too. It is not a one-size-fits-all experience. If you do try it, don’t be discouraged. Think of it like a dress (or suit) for an event. The first one you try on doesn’t always look the way you want it to. More often than not, we don’t buy the dress because we feel bad or because we are frustrated. We try on a few more and find what fits best. This is not a mandate, it is just how I feel, and it worked for me. Oh, and if you do go, be prepared to work. I’ve found that no one else can fix you. You have to fix yourself. For me, a therapist was just one tool that I used to aid myself in the repair process.
I was always honest when I shared. There were times when I decided not to share some of the more gory details, but I never embellished or hid any part of the story deliberately. It is natural to want to taint the facts with emotions to make people more sympathetic to your plight, but it will always catch up with you. Here’s why: you will always be left with your own thoughts and heart. If you are overstating to get a hug, you will have to live with the uncertainty as to whether you would have gotten the same reaction if you had just shared what really happened. To my other point above, I did keep certain bits of my story private; to protect my ex-partner and myself.
When in doubt, I didn’t share. I relied upon the whole parts of me that had a keen sense of audience awareness. I avoided sharing when I experienced the following: someone who didn’t care, someone who was harmed and would likely respond in a way that harmed me further, someone who would be made uncomfortable with my sharing, or someone who had expectations of me that I wasn’t prepared to fulfill (i.e. be happy, be grateful, be hopeful). When I shared and shouldn’t have, I didn’t beat myself up. I just tried to learn from it, and move on.
I found a narrative that worked when I needed a short blurb (see ‘people who didn’t care at all…’) and found a Cliff Notes version for when I wanted to share but didn’t want to weigh someone down with all the burdensome and overwhelming details.
I learned that the same basic rules that apply to interviews and meetings apply to sharing something so personal, as follows: don’t cry, try and lead [and end] with the positive, don’t share anything where you aren’t prepared to answer the natural questions that may arise a result, and when in doubt, don’t share (are you sensing a pattern?).
There is another fundamental truth that I finally absorbed. It’s pretty massive and contrary to every societal expectation pushed on women in particular, so I want you to take a deep breath before reading this one.
Ready?
I had to stop apologizing.
I had to stop saying I was sorry for sharing, for being sad, for being left, for making mistakes, and for falling apart. I had to stop being sorry for not being able to be there for people in the same way I wanted to or had been in the recent past. I had to really understand what was worthy of an apology and what, simply, was not. Then I had to use that truth and go forth with it. This is not easy BUT the less I apologized for stuff I wasn’t or shouldn’t be sorry for, the easier it was for me to get to the real ugly and hard stuff that I had to tackle.
Last, but not least, is the when. I’ve found that there is no hard and fast rule that governs when you share, or where. I found that there were times where an opportunity presented and I had no choice but to share at that moment. Like, when at a work event, someone asked my how my ex-partner was and I could feel the floor open from under me. Just so you know, I took a deep breath and said “I’m not sure. We aren’t together anymore.” I got through the rest of that night and waited until I was safely in my car to crumble. I didn’t lie or ignore the question. I also didn’t overshare. I answered questions or shared my new status/truth at work, at the gym, over dinner, while walking down the street, et cetera. Here’s the good news: despite my horrific experience, any kind of sharing made me see the very best in people. I saw humanity at its finest; compassion, kindness, and best of all, the ability to relate. You won’t know someone else’s story or pain unless you ask, but oftentimes, it doesn’t reveal itself until you share first.
So there it is, that is where I started, and so that is where I am beginning with all of you.
Until the next…
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 