CAN DIVORCE LEAD TO HEALING?

Is it possible that divorce can be a positive thing, in terms of spiritual growth?

I’ve written on this topic before (Divorce as Spiritual Growth, 2017), but that was eight years ago. Since then, however, the experiences and the memories of the divorce intrude, unbidden, showing up on the scrolling feed of my consciousness. Sometimes, this is quite upsetting. “Aren’t I done with it?, I muse.

In a recent dream, I enjoyed a very heartfelt and honest conversation with my ex-wife. I hadn’t seen her in nearly 12 years, which feels unbelievable that it’s been so long. Initially, we were speaking to each other from the opposite side of a glass barrier; but at the end, we sat side-by-side in a booth, like at a soda shop. With a sincere heart, I said to her, “I want you to know, I forgive you. I know you had to leave in order to be true to yourself.” She looked a little blinded by my words, but receptive.

Had I forgiven her before? Yes. But never in such a heart-felt way. Was this what Paul talks about in I Corinthians: “For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” (13:12) To love as God love is not, in my experience anyway, a frequent thing, if I’m honest. If it happens at all, it’s pure grace, because that is what God’s love is – an undeserved, unconditional gift.

I haven’t called my ex-wife yet to tell her the good news. I’m considering it, though.

I haven’t called her, in part because I think the dream is more about me. What I know from my understanding of Jungian psychology is that characters in dreams are most often about parts of myself. Was I actually forgiving me for all those qualities I projected onto my ex-wife. It certainly seems so. That would be true to the purpose of dreams – to help us grow.

But, this is what we do in romantic love. We project aspects of ourselves onto our beloved partners. My shy, introverted self, projects my outgoing, social self or uninhibited self into the other, so I can – unconsciously love myself through loving her. “She completes me,” we’ve heard in books and movies over and over. Unfortunately though, this trick of our psyches robs the other of a bit of her autonomy and freedom. She returns the favor, and all is well….Until it’s not.

As the rose-colored glasses lose their tint, and we see more clearly, we see behind the veil of romance – the rough edges, the bad breath after a night of eating and drinking, the competing needs and petty foibles, and irritating compulsive habits – we all have them you know. But if we’re truly responsible, we use what annoys us to take a look at ourselves – those qualities and characteristics in ourselves we’d rather ignore or disown.

Divorce can be a revolving doorway to yet another relationship and another and another; or it can be a doorway into openness to what that mysterious Self within is trying to accomplish — the project of becoming whole. The challenges and the gift of becoming the persons we are meant to be. Can I love the light and the dark within myself? Maybe only then, can I see clearly how to love another fellow traveler, setting them free from the laborious task of carrying my projections. Supporting them in their own journey towards wholeness.

WHY ARE RELATIONSHIPS MESSY?

messy relationshipsCan we be completely honest about relationships – even the best of them? Relationships are messy, are they not? Yes, relationships can be wonderful, and they can also be difficult. Ending a relationship is certainly one of the most painful of human experiences. Beginning a new relationship that seems full of expectation and hopefulness can be one of the most frightening of human experiences, while also being exhilarating and magical. We may try, try, and then try again, with the help of the most recent manuals on love and “divorce-proofing” a marriage, and yet, no one that I know ever avoids the maddening and unavoidable messes that intrude on the heights and joys of intimacy.

I recently began re-reading Thomas Moore’s book, Soul Mates (1994). Since my first reading of Moore’s insight-filled work, I have experienced the odious experience of divorce, not once but twice. I have fallen in love — well, let’s not count the times — and fallen out of love. And sometimes, even though I am remarried to a wonderful partner, we have our times of hurt, confusion, and messiness. It is not so much that we necessarily lack the communication skills that we need, or that we could benefit from improving on techniques for conflict resolution. It is, rather, that our souls are created for conflict and messiness. Let me explain.

In romance, relationships seem to blossom and flower. We feel a sort of expansion, a feeling of us against the world. The couple in love usually is viewed by others as being a bit crazy or out of step with everyone else in their social circles. The couple in love may act as if they are above the strife and suffering of life in the world. They appear almost ethereal, given to aesthetics and emotional heights that regular human beings often experience as pure indulgences. But this is the way of romance. It’s an adventure, full of hope, expectation, feeling larger than life, and often filled with riskiness and daring and even a kind of wondrous madness. The feeling of having found one’s soulmate sustains us through the maddening times because the other person feels like the one and only person in the world who is just right for me.

Psychologically, a unique feature of romance is that ego defenses come down. We tell tales to each other in love, sometimes tales never told to another person, because vulnerability reigns supreme. We are open, full of wonder, and full of whatever acceptance feels like – in love, acceptance is the aphrodisiac that sets our souls to flight. Until, somewhere along the line, someone gets their feelings hurt. The ego defenses that had softened, slowly begin to harden again, and a little distance creeps into the previously unfettered intimacy. The soul, at this point, imagined by the Greeks as a fragile butterfly, retreats little by little, unless the hurt is repaired.

On our better days, we know how to repair these hurts, but the truth is that most of us are ill-equipped to know how to repair the wounds of love. Where would be have learned how? Did anyone have the kind of upbringing to teach those skills of healing love’s wounds? I have been working with couples for over twenty five years, and I have yet to meet couples who are masters at knowing how to do this. Some are better than others, sure. But we all have egos, we tend to defend ourselves too much, and over time the soul tends to withdraw into a safe harbor far away from the life of the ego. The soul may reappear in a relationship at work, or in other zones where there is safety, or else the soul makes a new home in the shadows of fantasy, addiction, or some other symptom or illness.

Such is the way of soul. When the fragile butterfly of our being retreats, it enjoys creating a conflict just so it can come out of hiding once in awhile, even though the result is unpleasant. Or the soul may contribute to some other symptom or form of disturbance – anything to have a semblance of life. Carl Jung referred to the dark expressions of soul as having to do with the Shadow, the land of the repressed. So, if we want more soulfulness in life, this is the exploration the soul requires. We have to be willing to go down into our imaginations to see what the short-tempered outbursts symbolize at the level of the soul. To see what causes us to daydream and fantasize, what distracts us from our ego-centered consciousness, we have work to do on making peace between ego and Shadow.

So the messiness of our relationships, ideally, is our teacher. Our messes, when consciously engaged, are the teachers that show us the way to bring soulfulness to the lives we seek to live. I would have never consciously chosen the failures of my relationship history. At the same time, however, they have turned out to be exactly the wise teachers I have needed to serve me along my way. I have learned much because of the wounds of love, and I am grateful for those partners, pastors, and other healers who have opened my eyes to see the light in love’s dark shadows.