Our Dark Teachers

I call these experiences our dark teachers. The lessons that hurt, scare, scar, wound, and almost destroy us are very often the things that make us who we are because they require us to muster what we thought we could not muster—courage, compassion, kindness, forgiveness, love, resilience, strength, generosity of spirit, ferocity of heart. The times we feel lost are the times that require us to find our way. The deepest losses often lead us to our most profound gains. 

–Cheryl Strayed, from: It’s From Darkness That Everything Grows, Dear Sugar Letter #2. Originally published on December 31, 2020

I don't blame you if you want to reach into your computer screen and punch me in the nose. It can be infuriating to hear that old chestnut "what doesn't kill you makes you strong" when you don't want to be strong or nearly dead or half alive. When you just want your life back before you learned that the person you trusted most with your heart had shattered it. 

But bear with me. Because whether or not you're ready to hear this, I want you to store it somewhere in your exhausted brain to pull out on those days when you don't think you can stand another second of this pain. I want you to know that, as Cheryl Strayed puts it, "it's from darkness that everything grows." 

Well, maybe not everything. But many, many good things. Like courage and compassion and kindness and forgiveness. Love, strength, ferocity of heart. 

Here I am, just weeks past my 28th wedding anniversary, 18 years past my D-Day. I have the long view. And whether or not you stay with your partner or leave, whether or not you rebuild your relationship with him or stick to rebuilding your relationship with yourself, you will — as long as you work through the pain and don't let it fester and rot your soul — come to the day when you, too, have the long view and can see the beauty of what you built in the ashes. 

My kids are adults now. They have friends who've been cheated on, friends who've done the cheating. And they are utterly certain that they will never stay with someone who cheats. That they will never cheat. 

I was that certain, once. 

I have a hunch we all were.

But now we know. 

That life isn't always so clear. That there are circumstances that keep us in place even if every part of our being wants to flee. Or circumstances that cause us to flee when every part of our being wants to stay. 

I hope my children never do have to experience infidelity in any way, though I know that statistically, one or more of them likely will. 

And if not infidelity, I know that life will bring them to their knees one way or the other. A sick child, a job loss, a terrible diagnosis. None of us emerges without our scars.

But let's note again just what is forged in that darkness if we let it: courage, compassion, kindness, forgiveness. Love, resilience, strength, generosity of spirit, ferocity of heart.

May that be yours.

Maybe not today. But soon. 

The Safe Harbour of Your Own Heart

I noticed this one year ago, when one of our secret sisters posted these words on Valentine's Day: 

"Being in the time after he cheated makes me feel unsafe with my heart."

I felt those words in my own heart. I felt them when I read her words because I felt them then. I remember well feeling "unsafe." And of course I felt unsafe — I was unsafe. My husband had made clear to me that my heart wasn't safe with him, it hadn't been safe with him. The person I'd trusted most to keep my heart safe had betrayed that trust.

But ... maybe that's the problem. The person I'd trusted most. Those were the words I just wrote. The person I trusted most to keep my heart safe.

Why wasn't I the person I trusted most to keep my heart safe? Why had I outsourced the single most important job any of us have. To safeguard our own hearts. To keep them safe. And safe from what? Not from hurt. Hurt is simply part of the tangle of emotions we will all experience. 

No, our job is to not betray ourselves. To remember who we are. To never let someone else convince us to abandon our principles, what we know to be right, what we know to be true.

Betrayal catapults so many of us into confusion. Reality itself seems arbitrary. So I know what I'm suggesting isn't easy. I lost myself in the maelstrom after D-Day. But our goal must be to find our way back, to reorient ourselves.

We do that with support. As best you can, surround yourself with those who can help you reorient. A therapist, if you can afford one. A clergy person, if you have access to one that doesn't prioritize the institution of marriage over the people in it, that doesn't value men over women. A wise and trusted friend or sibling or parent. 

We sometimes find that support within the pages of a book — whether fiction or self-help. I took deep comfort (and a roadmap) from many books when I felt so lost. Indeed, I wrote a book to guide others to a healthy place beyond betrayal. 

It was the hardest work I've ever done — reorienting myself, finding that safety within my own heart. In part, the challenge came from having never completed that work before he cheated on me. Those of us who've struggled with trauma, dysfunctional families, betrayal by others have even more work to do because we have further to go toward healing. But it's worth it. I promise you, it's worth it. On the other side of all of this pain and work of healing is a heart — your own — that offers safety.