Are You Willing to Learn?

If you are not willing to learn, nothing can help you.

If you are willing to learn, nothing can stop you.

These are the words that Samuel, who works with Overcoming Infidelity, posted on his Twitter feed. It was one of those things that underscored an earlier conversation I'd had with a friend. You know how once you notice something, suddenly it's unavoidable?
My friend and I had been talking about her husband's refusal to better learn how to speak with their teenager, instead descending routinely into anger and blame, which, not surprisingly, was shutting down conversation altogether. My friend was frustrated. She wanted her husband to have a better relationship with their son, a good kid who was doing little more than following his own values, not just his father's. And his own values included a piercing. Her husband, this boy's father, simply couldn't – or rather wouldn't – acknowledge that yelling at a kid wasn't going to change anything other than further damage the father-son relationship. It certainly wasn't going to un-pierce his ears. 
I get it.
For years, I couldn't – I wouldn't – stop going to my family cottage even though I knew the weekend would consist of too much drinking, total chaos, and, occasionally, some violence. I had a therapist who, increasingly exasperated, would ask me why I kept putting myself in a situation that I knew was harmful to me. My answer sounded weak even to my ears. Translated into plain English, it amounted to this: I didn't know what else to do. And so I did what I'd always done. Even in the fact of evidence that what I'd always done wasn't working for me.
You too perhaps?
Perhaps, despite a partner who has lied to you, who has betrayed you, and who refuses to take steps to remedy the damage he's caused, you're unable to take steps to protect yourself. Perhaps you've been told to seek therapy, or to set boundaries, or to file for separation.
But you don't. Your reasons sound weak even to your own ears. Thing is, you're doing what you've always done because you don't really know what else to do. It requires skills that we don't yet have. Skills we'd need to learn.
I eventually learned those skills and you know what? It wasn't as hard as I'd always thought. There was no secret code I needed to crack. There was discomfort. Horrible discomfort. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin. If I wasn't at my family cottage to prevent catastrophe, then...anything could happen. And that felt terrifying to me. But me being there hadn't prevented chaos. It hadn't curbed the drinking. It had only made me witness too and sometimes victim of it. It had only harmed me.
So...I sat with the discomfort. I distracted myself from the discomfort. I did what I could to ignore the discomfort.
I learned to do things differently.
The sky didn't fall. Catastrophe might have occurred but I wasn't there for it. I discovered it wasn't my job to protect other adults from the consequences of their choices. It was my job to protect myself from the consequences of their choices. My only job.
Yours is to protect yourself from the consequences of your husband's choices. To learn better.
If you refuse to learn, nothing can help you through this.
If you are willing to learn, nothing can stop you.
It's not easy to unlearn old ways of doing things. Those habits have worn deep treads in your brain. But my guess is those old ways of doing things aren't exactly making life great. My guess is those old ways of doing things long ago stopped working for you and now, possibly, are actively hurting you.
If your husband wants you to consider giving him a second chance, he's going to need to learn new ways of doing things. That's his job.
Yours is to do the same. To set boundaries. To demand transparency and respect and kindness. To take steps to only allow people into your life with whom you are emotionally and physically safe. To sit the horrible discomfort of making these changes, knowing that discomfort is just part of the process.
If you do that, nothing can stop you. I promise.