VIII
What Does It Feel Like
To Be In the
Wasteland?

1. Let Those Who Know Be Kind

Some may have already proceeded to a another stage of divorce healing. You may already be on the positive side of finality, and you can offer a hope. If you feel as though you have indeed recovered and healed from your tragedy, I would ask that you keep that under your belt, at least for the time being. Bear witness to the hope you feel. But be aware that someone more vulnerable could be intimidated.

Your confidence and claim can overrun another still searching, still in the shock stage. For such a tender person‑‑though looking finality in the face (as you see), such a person most likely does not want finality. Remember, that is normal. Forcing that person into your stage is wrong and unhealthy and painful for them. Unchristian too. Do not forget those pushy persons you encountered.

Instead, as you proceed, lend a subtle and gentle ear. Listen closely and patiently. Wasn't the greatest comfort that you received, received from those who respected you in your tragedy? Who honored you with a listening ear?

2. The Shock Stage:
"Is This Really Happening to Me?"

For many of you, as it was for me, you may have asked the question, "Is this really happening to me?"

There are many questions like it. If you were in love, divorce is a crisis. If you were married in the biblical, traditional, and committed sense, then divorce was major surgery. Your heart was broken in two, laid bare to the elements of a cruel world.

The more you loved and the more your marriage meant to you, the worse and more painful was the divorce. Your emotional home burned down. Your relational life was scattered as if to a foreign land. The familiar landmarks changed radically. And, oh, what of the children?

Added to all of this is the vulnerability. Anytime a heart is broken and laid bare to the world, there will be those emotional buzzards that will pick at the soft spots. The carnivores that will chew at the hard spots. As allegiances shift, the standard coping skills fail. Predators lurk to take advantage of the weak.

Woe, woe unto the BrokenHeart that has no warm home into which to go after dark.

The shock stage is most clearly seen when the decision by the first party has been made and which the second party has received. The couple then struggles with the mental permanence of the decision, and acceptance of the likelihood of permanence may be delayed in the second party. More often than not, though, this mental permanence is a separate issue from the final acceptance of the decision in the heart. The distinction between the mental permanence and the final acceptance in the heart will be shortly illustrated as the Struggle with Finality.

The shock stage could have been short for one party. As in an abusive situation, the decision to separate was likely preceded by shock; after the decision, there was little struggle with permanence. Later, because of love, the struggle with survival and finality proceeded toward some kind of resolution.

Usually, the second party deals with shock in a more classical kind of grief pattern: the first party's decision struck hard, was unbelievable at first. A whirlwind of confusion and hurt and rejection pummel mind and heart.

There are many questions asked in the shock stage of divorce. Is this really happening to me? No, no, this cannot be happening to me‑‑can it? Why me? I am so confused, what shall I do? I don't know if I can survive. How will my spouse survive without me?

If you were the defendant, then you asked yourself these questions:

"Why can't we work this out?"
"Can't you be biblical and forgive?"
"Why don't we seek some counseling?"
"Why are you doing this to me?"

And when the divorce came, you may have asked,

"Was this all my fault?"
"Am I truly and solely to blame for all this?"
"Will I ever be happy or whole again?"

No, no, no. Or you might attempt to prove your wholeness by a complete avoidance. Worse still, you might attempt to prove you are whole by grabbing and clinging to the first accepting set of arms.

If you were the plaintiff or petitioner, then you may have said or asked these questions,

"I love but can't live with __?__."
"I wish there was a way to make __?__ change."
"This seems to be the only answer, but why do I feel guilty?"
"Why did __?__ make me do this?"
"I wonder if I am doing the right thing?"

If you were truly married, then the first stages of your divorce were a shock to the very depth of your soul. When we talk about divorce, we are not talking about a decision of the judge and the slam of a gavel or even the retention of a final decree. We are talking about a whole process: stated above as the dissolution of a commitment between a biblically married couple (from first thoughts, to separation, through the courts, shock, movement in healing, and onward beyond some kind of finality).

Some of you may not have felt any shock at all when the gavel fell. Some of you may have cried when you went home that night with the decree. Some of you may have indeed felt a sense of relief.

Regardless, if you were truly in love with the person you married, the first stages of your divorce were a shock, which may have meant months prior to separation. Which may have meant months prior to the slam of the gavel. For some the divorce of hearts may have come months or years prior to the decree.

For others the shock stage may have begun when you suddenly found divorce papers on the table when you came home one day.

Again, divorce is a process that most likely began before the gavel fell and may certainly extend beyond the moments of legal decision. Regardless of whenever your divorce began for you, in the first stages there was some denial and numbness and disbelief: this is the shock stage. "Is this really happening to me?"

This is natural. This is also crucial to recognize.

Recognizing the shock stage is a major step forward. Regardless of whether you are in shock now or whether it is well past you, recognition of the shock phase is crucial. If you still sense the need for some healing, looking back and identifying the shock stage will be very informative and helpful. This is especially needful if you are the victim of several divorces where true love was present. Any such redirection in life, any such turn in the road is a shock and major trauma to the inner person. Looking at how the shock affected you can be some of the most informative parts of the journey toward adaptation and healing.

Such a shock shakes the individual to the foundations of his or her soul. Identifying this stage is the identification of a major turning point. Looking at the epicenter of the quake, the fault lines, and the after shocks inform the geologist about the constitution of the earth. Viewing the shock of divorce will inform us about the constitution of our personhood and inner self: the strong and weak features that had been hidden till now. The fault lines and aftershocks will help map out areas of danger and areas of safety in the next relationship or in singleness.

Taking stock of the seriousness of the shock-trauma is a major step forward‑‑like taking stock of just how serious the open wound is or just where the amputation needs to take place. Doctors do this daily and suffer dire consequences to both their consciences and pocketbooks for any misdiagnoses. Even if you are well past the shock stage, looking back at your shock and how you responded are important to healing, especially if the broken bone was set crooked.

The shock phase of my divorce lasted several months. Finality was not coming to me very easily. Not at all, actually. I was a stubborn sod (or a bit obsessed). I did not want finality. And for me, no sense of finality would come until many months after the slam of that judge's gavel.

3. The Wasteland: A New Beginning, A New Pain

We are so very close to the issues, so much closer to the person. We wish we could avoid the subject altogether, for its very thought brings pain. Like a smoldering fire in our chest that no cold shower can extinguish, so is the struggle of our BrokenHeart.

I resist change, deny hurt, shield pride, and blame, blame, blame. I am in shock, but not really. I have entered into the wasteland. Between the shock phase and the last struggles with finality, the BrokenHeart makes its most noble efforts.

As the permanence of decision settles, a struggle with finality begins. This struggle with finality is the most confusing (impossible to fully describe). Such is the uniqueness of each heart. The exit from the shock stage is seen in the permanence of decision, and entrance into the struggle with finality is seen in the struggle of heart with the consequences of the decision. See the diagram below.

Fig. 3: The Full Struggle with a BrokenHeart

We understand the decision‑‑whether the first or second party‑‑but only after the permanence of the decision is resident in the heart will the heart be able to deal with the consequences. By consequences, we do not mean the simple logistics of the court and finances (though these are difficult). By consequences, we mean the struggle of heart and soul of a person who has to depart from a life-style and from a loved one.

The largest struggle is not with the physical logistics of the separation, be they ever so cumbersome in themselves. The largest struggle takes place in the invisible realm of heart and soul, in the near mystic realm of social and emotional ties. The struggle is with a change of direction in the heart. An eternal love that has a natural inclination to endure must now run against nature to adapt itself either to getting needs met from somewhere else or to changing the needs themselves.

The struggle with finality is a struggle with a new kind of heart settlement. How can a love that has developed into an eternal love face rejection from the loved one? How can an eternal love take comfort from the need for survival? So many more questions could be asked.

Words fail us. Only those who have traveled such a road understand. Though permanence is understood, with the struggle with finality, there is a heart struggle that continues toward healing. But not really. For the struggle with finality resists healing and resolution of every kind.

In accepted grief work with the dying, after shock there is anger, bitterness, and a sadness that works toward resolution. Yet the finality of death, the finality itself becomes an ally to a healing resolution as does the acceptance of death as the universal destiny of all humankind. We discuss some comparisons later.

In divorce, finality is protracted and resisted. The heart that has loved and grown in love, then must learn to live without the expression of love to the loved one. The heart and mind and life must learn how to live with what has become an eternal love without an expression of love. Or with a greatly reduced or permanently reduced love.

This is not so in death, where finality is forced by the immediacy and permanency of the loss. While love struggles with expression in a similar way, the dissimilarity is in the reception of love. As will be seen later, death usually enshrines love, and divorce invariably changes the love itself.

At this point in the divorce process, the struggle with finality is where the heart goes through its most noble struggles with faith and life itself. The whole institution of marriage is questioned. The nature of love. Men? Women? What is actually of value to heart and soul? The greatest battles with self-discovery take place during the struggle with finality.

In death, where there was a pathological dependence upon the dead loved one, there is a struggle with life and the nature of love that could be considered tantamount to the struggle in divorce. But even with a pathological dependence, the protracted and uncertain nature of divorce force the struggle to last longer and to go deeper than in the struggle of grief in death. The broken trust, the redirection of an eternal love, and the resistance to letting go force a noble heart to struggle with finality in the fashion of a person struggling to survive in a wasteland. See the following poem.

The Wasteland

In a wasteland,

Thirst and hunger go on for days without relief.

In every direction,

There are only cacti and tumbleweeds.

As the tongue clings to the mouth and

The lips dry out from a lack of use and no moisture,

The body wearies of the journey.

Mirages begin to appear in the distance.

But the water spots turn out to be nothing,

Nothing more than illusions

Created out the need of the moment.

After a while, you get desperate.

One is tempted to draw water from anywhere,

To draw water with abandon

Without concern

To draw from the parched sand itself

To draw water without concern

For personal safety or social scrutiny.

Just to quench the dire thirst,

You will draw from the contaminated pond

or find yourself digging in the dry dirt.

Denying the prickling needles,

you chop up a cactus.

Suitable animals for food are too fast and too few.

The only hope in the wasteland . . .

Is . . . getting out or being rescued.

In the struggle with finality, there is little hope for either exit or rescue.

In coming to a workshop or in a book on divorce, you are making a statement. That is, you are already on the road toward healing. Maybe unsure. Maybe insubstantial. Maybe no true growth at all. Still confusing.

You have said, "YES." You have begun. You have begun to take some responsibility in your healing. The shock is past. But what is the future?

There is no pain quite like that of a divorce. Quite like the experience of unrequited love. Quite like loving someone who cannot love or who has quit loving you. Rejection. Betrayal. Anger. Loneliness. Insecurity. Fear. Confusion. Depression.

Words, words, words. Is there no end?

Hate and Love perspire and bring a foul stench. There are times when the very concepts of love and hate seem ugly and hated. There are times when just the word, "hate," can open a trap door of the heart and in flows a flood of images that sum up all the bitterness and disappointment. There are times when just the word, "love," brings a dagger to the heart as if to wound every dream and hope and affection. These two words, so common, become catch phrases in expression as the heart purges the pain. No person or power can pull us from the perspiring stench of these words.

Expression upon expression‑‑the mainspring releases the heartache through inner then outer bouts with survival. Our desire keeps us in tow. In tow to where? Toward our beloved? Toward a separation? Toward a reconciliation? Toward a resolution? All the while, our aloneness grasps at the apparition of our beloved. At the same time our fury pushes us away. Our confusion and dismay chain us to the present.

4. Finding direction in the Wasteland

I have learned so much about my inner self, about my weaknesses and strengths through my divorce. The depths of my own love were tested.

According to my wife, I did not love her enough. A painful confrontation like that from one you love will reveal some very tender areas. It did for me. How painful they must have been for her to say. How a tailspin could be entered here on who loved who, who denied who, and who did not love who. What a mess.

What a wasteland. The most heartfelt teardrop dries before it touches the ground. I am so separated that my groan is never heard.

All of my courage‑‑it will take all of my courage to focus on my own feelings, my own love, my own loss. But I must look at my own heart-struggle. I must look hard and look steadfastly through the fog of my own illusions and inadequacies at my own heart-struggle. It is difficult to avoid a complete denial, or on the other hand, difficult to avoid obsessing. I do not know the difference at times. But I must stay with the struggle for as long as it takes.

There is a song out called "Achy Breaky Heart." Do everything but tell the heart. Because if you do, that heart just might explode and kill this man. Those Country and Western songs have such a way.

Despite the difficulty, one thing I do know: I will move more easily toward adaptation in the company of an open person, a person who can be with all of me. Nevertheless, I may not find such a high-quality person all the time or precisely when I need him or her. They are not everywhere, that is certain. You and I, both of us would be fools to trust just anyone with everything that we are in our dark hours.

For if I am convinced of one thing in life, this is it: there are more people who cannot listen than there are who can. The sphere of my own risking is limited only to those in whom I have some amount of trust. Even then I am sometimes disappointed. Likewise within my limited sphere of associations, there are many who cannot‑‑no fault of their own‑‑be as open and caring and tolerant as Jesus would have been. In fact there is no one. But thank God for those who tried.

I cannot blame others or life itself for not providing me with more persons who could be like Jesus. How often we fail to be what is needed for each other in the wasteland.

But I am thankful, indeed indebted, to those who tried to be what Jesus might have been. The challenge remains mine. It will continue to take courage. Healing will not be forced upon me. Another thing I have learned is to appreciate more deeply that we are all limited and frail.

So I can most confidently say, if direction is found in the wasteland, direction will come through the warm heart of another.

5. Rejection: The Loneliest Hour

I failed with respect to what I thought I knew about my strength in many areas. After having been single for so many years, I never thought I would miss her as much as I did. Let me emphasize that: I never, never had any idea.

I was clueless. Never in my wildest imagination did I think or believe I would miss her so much. Never. So words of separation were easy for me. I thought I could just say, "Goodbye," and walk away anytime. "Well, then, if . . . then I guess it is over," flowed fairly easily.

How I must have hurt her. How terrible I feel for having said those words.

In retrospect, my ignorance of my own inner self was so great. Writing about the ignorance is very embarrassing. But write about this I most certainly must. For that area of self-ignorance was one of the several minor areas. I am too embarrassed to reveal the more important. And I am still learning.

My fears and insecurities were made as real as the trees in my back yard. I was aware of them before. Sure was. Now I walked hand in hand with these trees of insecurity and fear. I climbed a few of them. I tripped over a few fallen ones. Had a few of them fall on me. As a counselor, myself, I saw for the first time how painful the loss of a love can be.

And . . . damn . . . it hurt. Bad, bad, bad.

You see, I had never fallen in love with any woman quite like I had fallen in love with my ex-wife. I suppose that is the way it always is and should be. Nevertheless, I had no idea before what a true BrokenHeart felt like. For a counselor, that is a good experience (though I am not suggesting that a good counselor needs a BrokenHeart).

Anyway, I will never again approach a BrokenHeart in the same way my former ignorant self would have. In the experience gained, I feel a powerful growth in compassion. I will continue to grow from this pain.

The incredible pain of loving without having that love accepted or returned cannot be adequately described. I feel that my ex-wife would say the same thing. For one of our differences was that she too felt unloved. She felt I was rejecting her love and not loving her, and I felt she was rejecting my love and not loving me. This contradiction of each other made the pain worse for both of us. Though it was impossible for either of us to accept.

What makes matters even worse is what goes deeper than the words. Though I would like to believe the words and believe even in the painful contradiction, in my heart, I cannot believe that she truly loved me (though I wish). I think?

For her too. This is what she said. The contradiction between us was insurmountable.

Does she feel this way too? Judging intentions is circular.

Beyond the words. Maybe. Maybe not. How confusing. Beyond the words and the limits of our language and our abilities in communication, how else can the heart show feeling?

To my inner self, how she feels is not nearly as important to my healing as what I believe she feels. For her too. How much more painful it all becomes when the divorced person cannot any longer believe that the departed truly loved him or her?

But right after saying all this, I want from the depths of my being to believe her. When she said she truly loved me, loved me in the sense of I Corinthians 13, I want to believe she loved me with an enduring love. I will always want to believe this. Just as with the "cannot believe" above, there are times that in spite of everything, I will believe she truly loved me. Whether true or not.

How rough these waters are.

With the likelihood of reconciliation ever receding and the forced look toward the Bridge of Finality, I may never know the whole truth of her love. How circular this becomes, like getting caught in a whirlpool, where my little craft is whipped round and round in the Bay of Heartbrokenness.

This is the loneliest hour.

Words and songs, poetry and music fail to describe the pain of rejected love when the rejection is obvious. That is clear. When such contradictions are added, where the love given is called false‑‑the pain is much worse. How much more torn is the person who believed in the departed's love, then lost that belief, though he himself (she herself) continues to love the departed?

Confusion upon hurt upon confusion. How the riptide pulls and the maelstrom swirls the emotions.

What happens when conspiracies come? When some well thought of friends facilitate the separation? When allegiances shift out of the blue sky? When your best friend cannot see you anymore? When family members console and tear down? When religious authorities bind or twist motives? When what feels "right" is declared "wrong"? When what feels "wrong" is declared "right"?

What happens when there is no one, not a single friend or family member or associate in whom you feel confident? When a confidant turns out to be less trustworthy than you had hoped? When neighbors and associates are caught in the crossfire?

Alone? Helpless? Weak?

A few months after my wife left and just a few weeks after some papers were tendered, I was out of town and alone in a park on a moderately warm April day. I wrote the following in an expression of my pain, fittingly entitled I believe.

L O N E L I N E S S

From the very essence of my living

Is pulled the rough substance of my being,

And I groan deep inside with a screaming

As if to scratch from the darkness a seeing.

Thrown onto the hot pavement it crackles

As helpless I sit here in these shackles,

Listening to what seem like rude cackles.

For the absence of a love becomes crude

As even the furniture seems to brood

While the heart attempts to become shrewd.

And the shackles become even tighter

As one's essence crackles even brighter,

Struggling so hard to become a fighter.

Upon the pavement, I watch its slow glow,

Shackled as I ponder what I do know

That my way it will never again blow.

I leave the ashes of my essence there,

Attempted to cover my heart laid bare,

Shielding a blood-curdling scare.

To claw and scratch in this darkness weary,

Becomes a task that makes each day dreary,

That at the day's end leaves the eyes teary.

For a vacancy never before filled,

Is a vacancy that cannot be drilled,

A vacancy that won't be taxed and billed.

But once the room is filled, then vacated--

And with the drilling was fabricated--

Then the deep hole can never be placated,

When two hearts--once one--are separated.

Oh, how I hurt. How angry, sad, confused, and worried I felt. How helpless. Ambivalent. Is this really happening to me ?

Oh, how Jesus must have hurt as he looked down from the cross. How God must have hurt when he saw his son on the cross. How heavy the duty must have felt as he moved to the cross all alone and with no one understanding. How God must hurt today.

The positive aspect to your presence in this chapter is that you are on the road toward healing. You have found direction in the wasteland. You could not have endured this without at least having said, "Yes," to the desire for healing. In the loneliest hour you have perceived a beacon.

Some of you may have been working toward healing for a long time. Some of you may have just begun. Nevertheless, wherever you are, seeing the need for healing is an approach towards some kind of finality. With God's love, addressing the pain is the first and most substantial step toward a tomorrow of hope and inner peace.