When our partner has been unfaithful it is a shocking betrayal we don’t expect. If they then leave the relationship, we are forced to grieve. This is another painful betrayal which can blindside us. They are still alive and as such grieving them becomes what I would categorize as a different sort of “complicated grief”, no less painful than a bereaved partner.
We are not only grieving our partner but also the loss of the life we had together and the loss of dreams of the future that will no longer be. It is a multi-layered loss which is often minimized by well-meaning people trying to help by pointing out facts meant to quiet our pain like,”wow, what a such and such!!! .” and “you just dodged a huge bullet.”
Complicated Grief or CG – from Mayo Clinic.org: “losing a loved one is one of the most distressing and, unfortunately, common experiences people face. Most people experiencing normal grief and bereavement have a period of sorrow, numbness, and even guilt and anger. Gradually these feelings ease, and it’s possible to accept loss and move forward.
For some people, feelings of loss are debilitating and don’t improve even after time passes. This is known as complicated grief, sometimes called persistent complex bereavement disorder. In complicated grief, painful emotions are so long lasting and severe that you have trouble recovering from the loss and resuming your own life.”
I believe that my experience and those of others who experienced infidelity and were then abandoned by their partner, CG could aptly describe the same type of grieving process.
I decided that my ex-narcopath’s idealization phase was just that, a way to reel me into the relationship on his fishing line. However, the feelings and love for him were real for me. Just because they were contrived on his end only meant that I felt the loss and pain and grief of losing what I thought I had.
I eventually came to accept that I had fallen in love with an illusion. That took time to arrive to that understanding and even longer to accept. In the end, I was grieving the man I thought I had, not the man I actually had. This cognitive dissonance slowed my grieving process down. For as I would start to become angry at him and go through the grieving process, I would quickly remember how wonderful he had treated me in the beginning and get hopeful again that maybe we could reconcile. Then I would have to begin the grief process all over again. Not to mention him staying in touch with me, one weak moment of me communicating with him and I was right back to missing him only to be cast aside and wounded by him again.
It came in cycles. Waves as it were. Until the waves came closer and closer in succession until they were on top of each other colliding.
Then, I was faced with despair and nothing the grief process itself. But how? How does one grieve someone who is still alive?
I observed and compared people who lost partners to death and noted that as a victim of infidelity who was dumped, I was lacking ritual and ceremony in my grieving process. I then set out to find find personal ways to make my grief feel more real and tangible.
I first visited many online forums and connected with lots of people who had experienced the same thing that I had. I listened to their stories and advice.
Once I accepted that it needed the be over for ME….(it had long since been over for him) I decided to take all his fake-ass love letters and put them in a wooden box. Then I took said box with his photo in it and dug a hole into the woods. I placed a medium sized rock over the pseudo-grave with a simple black symbol I had painted on the rock which was meaningful to me.
I wrote a short eulogy and read it out loud expressing my feelings of betrayal for the sweet man that I would miss. I said in closing he never had existed except in my heart. I wrote it for the man I thought I had, for he was the man for which I was crying. . I had my best friend there to bear witness to my process. I found this helpful and was pretty sure by then she was ready to smack a shovel over his head and put him into a box with the sheer amount of hours I cried on the phone to her.
I have heard other women getting lighter fluid and torching their love letters. Still others ripping them into bits and throwing them into the ocean. I knew of one other woman where threw her letters into a trash dumpster and then taking a photo and sending it that the ex. Another man simply bound his letters up and returned them via mail no return address.
Which method you choose matters not. The important thing is that the process empowers you and brings you closer to healing. There’s always the option to do nothing at all. Simply sit be with your pain.
There is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no blueprint and certainly no handout anyone gives you for this kind of off the charts level of fucked up pain. You will have to do it your own way. At your cadence. On your terms.
You may grieve before your ready but not before you can. Freedom really has always been inside of you. You can do this. You will be okay.
In addition to the clinical diagnosis of OCD I received at 19, I know I have body dysmorphia as well. This is where when you look in the mirror you see a very distorted body image of yourself which is not accurate. They are not mutually exclusive but can be comorbid diagnoses. I know I look horrible, but when I point out others who I believe to which I look similar; they say “no way, that it’s simply not true.” That I am projecting and exaggerating my fears rather than reality . That is what I see? It isn’t a projection!
So I’m nearly 30 days in on this diet and it feels like I’m stuck in some sort of TV episode of ‘60 Days In’ meets ‘My 600 lb.life.‘
I’m not sure how I can keep doing this same old same old, ad nauseum, ad infinitum? The old me lived for being alone in a room with my junk food freebasing a box of Little Debbies. Now? Exercise is supposed to blow my dress back. Well guess what. It doesn’t. It’s work. And those neural pathways haven’t been created yet so it feels like drudgery.
Something weird has shifted though. Other than eating Cheetos for that one discrete time, I seem to have developed the old food aversions that I had back a child. Where I became so emaciated the doctor threatened to put a g-tube in me.
Fears related to food are cropping up all over again. The same exact fears that caused my anorexia to begin at around age 10-11 years old. I have severe OCD and get skeeved out pretty easily by a lot of foods. I am an extremely picky eater. If I cannot eat something that tastes palatable, I often opt to starve and just skip meals altogether.
It seems my dream of finding a better more healthy relationship with food is slipping away fast.
I feel frustrated. I don’t know what belies this whole eating disorder and my therapist is not very helpful or insightful one bit.
I hope everyone out there who is on their own diet is able to stick with whatever they are doing. Send me encouraging thoughts and prayers if you would!
‘Cause right now I’ve got the jailhouse blues.
I was fantasizing all night about it and by 11:00 pm I couldn’t take it anymore. I found myself walking as if in a dream-state to the kitchen to get a snack.
But wait! Snacks are not allowed on my diet you say? You would be correct. I cheated. I cheated with my favorite salty crunchy snack. Cheetos.
The Cheeto Tiger with his dark glasses, and his brightly colored packaging like a light in the night, I knew he was a devil in disguise. He and Little Debbie are in cahoots trying to seduce me. The bastards. When you add Mrs. Smith into the mix it becomes an unholy union.
I instantly felt guilty. Thoughts like,”you worthless piece of shit you can’t do anything right” and “wow you really fucked that up good” are some thoughts which came through my mind with ease. Now luckily I didn’t devour a whole bag or anything. But I shouldn’t have had ANY, hello.
The veggies just are losing their luster. They just bore me now. It’s starting to feel like government rations. I need some excitement in my mouth. I’m sick of bland chicken and beef.
Ugh. Why in the hell can’t I be like one of these hardcore extremist dieters who never slip up and lose a shit ton of weight in only 2 months? Well of course I lack any sort of discipline, that goes without saying. I mean, I was hoping to uncover some other less obvious reasons?
Hopefully this was just a one-night-stand with this junk food . Hopefully this doesn’t turn into a full-blown affair.
So often times when you are trying to get rid of one addiction, you need to find a healthier substitute to fill that empty space.
I’ve found something which helps me to distract my mental obsession with the food porn, which is everywhere. It’s like a hamster that runs around on a little wheel in my head.
My defense against the food addict hamster on its wheel, is Minecraft.
It started out over two weeks ago, I hopped on the PS4 and it’s now gained traction to where it’s now becoming dare I say another thing that I binge on.
I’ve built a penthouse, with a pool, an underground bunker with built-ins for all my chests for my “mined” ore, a nether portal, and use my map to explore all kinds of biomes. I’m rocking this tween game like a boss.
It’s so addictive, it should be called Minecrack. Mojang is making a killing. But hey, as long as I’m staying on the straight and narrow it’s all good.
I’m pretty sure I have a highly addictive personality. Ahem….
Gotta run now, back to the mines.
There’s never a shortage of people in Hamp who stop and ask me for directions to some random street. I have no idea where things are, I don’t live there. Maybe I appear like I have a knowing look about me? Maybe I look like a townie?
“Do you know where blah blah blah is?” some lady asks. “No, sorry I don’t,” I say. “I heard it’s around here somewhere,” she goes on. “Yeah, I have no idea, sorry about that.”
Not 10 minutes later a man asks me if I know where some restaurant is and the conversation goes the same way.
I feel I’ve turned into a curmudgeonly old man. Why this irritates me? Who knows. Probably for the same reason that everything irritates me these days. The wind blowing in the wrong direction bothers me. It’s like PMS on steroids.
I’ve decided the next time someone asks me if I know where blah blah blah is, I’m going to look at them with a straight face and say in my average girl next door American voice, “I’m sorry, I wish I could help you but I don’t speak a lick of English, good luck with that though.”
That should be fun times.
So I’ve been on this diet. I have a crap ton of weight to lose. I love it when my pot-belllied primary care physician in his mid-60’s told me that I needed to lose weight at my last check-up. As if it’s something I didnt know? WTF. I almost wanted to pretend to over exaggerate falling off that tiny half-table they sit your ass on and say,” Oh my God! I’m over weight?” “is there anything I can do about it doctor?” “Is there any hope?” And then fake cry.
As if I don’t already know and I never look in the damn mirror. He looks like he’s ready to push out twins mind you….but okay.
Back to the diet. Let’s start with the word diet. It’s comprised of the words “die” from the German “dii” and “t”. That’s because of you don’t go on it, you die and you get a nice cross over your grave after the burial service. So okay, the etymology was total bullshit but it sounded good.
I have been on said diet since October 7th. Time feels like dog years or some shit with each day passing. Each hour is expanding somehow. I watch other people eating bread and feel envious, and if I spy someone eating pastry? I want to curse at them. Jealous little thing I am. In some cruel twist of fate my metabolism has slowed from when I was twenty. I gain weight looking at their damn cupcake!
All the slicing and the chopping and the vegetable prepping is so labor intensive. I can’t wait for this dog and pony show to be over.
Where is the healthy food drive-thru? Where can I order my 4 oz of protein and 8 oz of raw veggies, and 8 oz of steamed spinach to go Mcfast. Oh that’s right nowhere. There’s only Mcslop up the street under the Golden Arches.
Every where I turn there is flagrant food porn staring me down, enticing me to “come back.”
I am holding steady though. Like walking a tight rope 100 feet up. So far I’ve only tettered on the wire, no falls yet.
I’m still rocking this diet, it’s Day 12 WP peeps.
There is an unusual man in the town in which I live. He stands at the town’s center with big ass signs which he creates on huge white poster board. He proudly parades his work walking slowly along the side walk during rush hour traffic. About every month he heads uptown donning his freshly crafted creation for all to see.
It is important to note that this town is an extremely left leaning, liberally based community…. as a whole.
In 2016, one sign he made spawned a 23 yr. old woman and 23 yr. old man to physically assault him. They were both subsequently arrested.
His signs certainly are shocking. One of his signs read, “Caitlin Jenner ain’t no woman, boys ask your dads.”
Another read, “Bring back the bitchslap.”
Yet another sign read, “Feminist witches and soyboy bitches, lmao”
The Chief of Police said that he is protected under the 1st amendment to peacefully display his signs. However, the town’s local BID (Business Industrial District) asked business not to sell sign making materials to this man.
Our family stopped by to ask for the above photo with this man and he was happy to oblige.
His words may be shocking, rude, and vulgar. That said, I have come to admire sign guy for his authenticity, his courage to stand up and face an entire community who do not believe as he does. Sign guy has brass balls.
Rock on Phil, keep making your signs baby.
When I went to grammar school in the mid-1970’s, we faced the flag of the United States of America every morning and said the Pledge of Allegiance. We had a Christmas-Hanukkah party and got to bring cupcakes, we colored Christmas trees, pictures of Santa Claus, Menorah’s and Dreidels with our crayons.
We celebrated St. Patrick’s Day and all wore our green clothes that day to school. We celebrated St. Valentine’s Day and exchanged valentine’s with all the kids in our class. We had cool Halloween parties at school and got to dress up with our costumes, eating a fair amount of you guessed it, candy.
I’m not exactly sure when everything changed and began to go FUBAR. I guess I began noticing it when my son was in grammar school. My first hint was when I realized my son never learned the Pledge of Allegiance. It was too offensive because it mentioned “God” so an atheist parent complained and that was that. His kindergarten class never have a Christmas-Hanukkah party. A few too many kids celebrated Kwanza and one kid it was against his religion to celebrate any fun, it seemed. You know the saying one bad apple…. So the school decided on a “Winter Solstice party.”
I got a notice in his backpack saying they could only color photocopied snowflakes because no one would be offended and no “unhealthy” snacks could be offered only fresh fruit, crackers, or popcorn.
Well hoo-hah! What a swinging time. I know most kids want to dive into that at a party. Sounds more like cuisine offered doing hard time on cell block H in kid-jail, than something offered at a party.
St. Patrick’s Day? What’s that? Saint what? Doesn’t exist. Saint Valentine got reduced to “Love day.” And I was told there would be no exchanging any valentines. They couldn’t ensure some kid wouldn’t be left out. (That’s the anti-bullying prevention campaign at work)
Do you know that at my son’s school they hoisted the LGBT Pride Flag right next to the American Flag. I’m all for equal rights for the LGBT community. They are an oppressed minority community. But what fuck is that all about?
Is it saying, ’it’s okay to be LGBT and be “out” at this school ‘cause we got your back?’ ‘Cause let me tell you, hell no! Kids are ruthless and will pick on kids for a lot less. When I was in school kids got on picked for: wearing glasses, not having the right clothes, being too fat, being too thin, having the wrong haircut. But oh no, if we hoist the flag that’ll save some LGBT kids’s ass? I don’t think so. If only things were that simple.
I got a phone message from the high school letting me know right before Columbus Day, that there would be no school in honor of “Indigenous People’s Day. WTF! Can they just change the name of a national holiday like that?
My pre-schooler is being taught to sit, waiting quietly on a carpet, legs crossed underneath and call it “criss-cross apple sauce”, instead of “Indian style” as it has been for decades here in the U.S. For real? This shit goes way too far.
Why must everyone walk around on eggshells? This entire country is more worried about serving up a safe, cozy, homogenized, cup of watered-down politically correct bullshit, than it is about holding fast to strong, honest, authentic opinions that God forbid might offend others.
I say let’s bring back the Pledge of Allegiance, Halloween, St. Pats Day, St. Valentines Day and celebrate every frigin winter holiday and color all the different pages: Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza and whatever else there is. If the parents don’t like it, let’s get old school about it, keep your kid in the library during the party, ya wet rags.