What To Do?

Tel Aviv skylineCIRCA 2011 

I finally had to face it. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back. It happens every day. I had to face that fact that I was not so special that I was somehow immune from it happening to me. Like so many other women, I too had been abruptly abandoned and summarily castigated when my husband of nearly three decades blurted out that he was leaving me. Fait accompli. Done deal. Mia culpa … yada yada yada.  Simply said, my recovery began when I finally realized that I was just another statistic.  

Nonetheless, I wanted to go away and hide (anywhere!) in order to get away from the toxic shame that flooded me at that time. (Funny isn’t it … how the stigma and shame is borne by the leave-ee in these circumstances.)  I didn’t want to be seen or heard; I just wanted to crawl under a rock or into a hole and pull the hole in over me, like in the cartoons. (Well, it seems to work for them!)

I wanted to hide and be alone, yet at the same time, I was deathly afraid of being alone.  His cataclysmic departure had not only pulled the rug out from under my life in Biblical proportions, but it also searingly pulled the scab off another wound (long scarred over and hidden decades before) … my fear of abandonment issues from my childhood, still existing deep within me.  So … were I to be alone to hide my shame, I would then face being left alone with yet another sadistic abuser: my own mind who taunted me unmercifully, replaying the tapes from childhood.  Up until this time, I thought I was a pretty wonderful person. So I couldn’t rationalize who could possibly ever want to leave moi? (Oh puh-leeeeeze!)  


Bottom line, I panicked. I reacted. All I could think to do was to get in motion and stay in motion. I jumped in my new car and I began to drive. I had no idea where I was even going. I just started driving. Some days I would start driving in the early afternoon and would still be on the freeway at 3AM.  I put thousands of miles on my new car in just a few short weeks.


In my case, all this driving was extremely therapeutic for me. I don’t claim to understand any of the theory behind it, but I truly believe that open highway driving and my music puts me in a conducive brain wave state where I think/feel better. I’ll leave that for the experts, but I know it made a difference for me. You might want to try it.

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