Moving on ain’t easy

The thought occurred to me that since my divorce, grief was the mantle of my own identity. I focused on my grief and made certain others knew of my pain. Receiving condolences was the most positive thing in my life at that time and I subconsciously invited the commiseration of others as a substitute to offset my depression.

After a period of time, the divorce was no longer the cause of my misery - it was the willingness to accept the adulation from others, to weather the storm of sadness. In reality, I was the source that continued to replicate my own squalls.

Making my pain accessible to others was my way of sweeping reality under the rug. My friends reinforced the issue that I was distraught, agreeing with me and siding with my pain. This can only delay the recovery process. I was the driving force of my depression and I was my own worst enemy!

Rather than believe in my heart and my abilities, I let my own personal martyr monster out of its cage. It seemed easier to accept the best wishes and tears of others than to pick myself up and continue to be the best person I could be.

Just as I made mistakes in my marriage, I made mistakes in my recovery process, too. Listening to others, however kind those words may be, is very different than listening from within. We must take control of our own hearts - we are the only person that can.

I needed to focus on my future, not on past events riddled with pain. I concentrated on my two wonderful and loving daughters, 10 and 13 at the time, who lived with me. Divorce had trampled upon their sensitive hearts, leaving them fearful, afraid and insecure. I immersed my love, time and effort into their daily lives and found myself constructing drama class backdrops, coaching soccer and softball and becoming the president of the Cheerleader Booster Club. I attended every game, event, recital, high school musical and helped select dresses and clothes for school. I started to feel like I’d make somebody a pretty good wife someday.

I started drawing color cartoons on their lunch bags every day and putting a note inside. The notes always had messages of support for a game or test, talked about values and always about how much I loved them. I called this, “Subliminal Brown Bag Communication 101.” It seemed to work, as they never came home covered with tattoos, black lipstick, pierced noses or eyebrows and both maintained A’s through high school and college.

Even today, with them long since grown and flown, I still get a telephone call every day with the customary, “Hi dad, whatcha doing?” I’m a very blessed man indeed!

When we listen with our ears, we hear sounds – but when we listen to our heart, we hear contentment, satisfaction, happiness, pleasure, gratification and love.

Terrance K. Phillips conducts seminars and is a lecturer, relationship mediator and author of “The Divorce Disease – Options for a Cure” and “Heart Attack-ed.” Information: www.focalpointbooks.com.