The Weight of Divorce

 

The Weight of Divorce
tj-tbp ©2025 BTMT

Divorce leaves reminders that live both in the body and in the heart. The emotional weight finds its way onto the page when I write, giving me space to process and release what once felt too heavy to carry. The physical weight, however, has stayed with me. I still carry twenty extra pounds, a visible reminder of a season that changed everything.

There is another marker as well—something that once brought me pride, something people noticed and complimented. Today, it feels different, less like a badge of confidence and more like a remnant of a chapter I did not choose to extend.

These reminders, both emotional and physical, are challenging in their own ways. Emotional pain can be buried for a time, tucked away until it demands to be faced. Physical reminders do not allow such escape. They sit with us. They are seen by those who knew the “before” and recognize the “after.” They are undeniable.

The irony is that the physical is often the part most within our control. We can choose how we move, how we eat, how we care for our bodies. Yet knowing this does not always translate into action. Even now, I have not shed the pounds that came with my divorce.

Still, here is the shift in perspective: these reminders do not have to remain symbols of loss. They can become evidence of survival. They can become the fuel for transformation. The body carries scars and weight because it endured, and the heart carries stories because it loved. Both are proof of a life that has not given up.

The question is not whether the reminders exist, but what you will choose to do with them. You can let them anchor you in the past, or you can let them propel you into a stronger, more vibrant future.

Yes, I carry the weight of divorce. Yet I also carry the strength to rise above it. That is where true empowerment begins.

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When the Past Comes Knocking

 

It ended a long time ago. You told yourself you had moved on, and perhaps you even believed you were happy. Then, one day, you saw your ex again. Perhaps it was a chance encounter on the street, or perhaps it was their smiling face appearing in a social media post. In that instant, your heart skipped, and the knot you thought was long gone began to loosen. It felt like someone tugged at a stray thread, unraveling memories that carried you back to when you were together.

You wonder how it is possible that after all this time, they can still have that effect on you. The truth is that relationship breakups leave a mark. They are often described in terms of trauma because the emotional symptoms resemble it: mood swings, tears, anger, numbness, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, even flashbacks. These responses can surface even when you were the one who ended the relationship, or when you knew the person was not healthy for you. That is why the experience can feel confusing and frustrating. You want to “move on,” yet your mind keeps returning to them. You may no longer love them, you may not even like them, but the emotions remain intense.

One woman shared her own struggle: “I did not love him at the end, I did not want to be with him. There were so many fights. I knew it was wrong. So why am I still thinking about him? Am I still in love with him?” What she was experiencing is what many fall into—the emotional reasoning trap. Feelings, when powerful, convince us they represent truth. She did not want her ex back, but she missed the intensity of the emotion they once shared. It had not always felt good, yet it made her feel alive.

This is what makes toxic or volatile relationships so difficult to release. Intense feelings are intoxicating. We confuse them with passion, and passion with love. The energy can be magnetic, even addictive, tricking us into believing that because it feels powerful, it must be good. In reality, it often means the opposite.

If you find yourself pulled back into these feelings, pause before you act. Recognize what is happening. What you are feeling is not love. It may look and sound like love, but it is simply emotion in disguise. It is a longing for the familiar rush that your ex once stirred in you, not a genuine desire for the person themselves.

Remind yourself that they are your ex for a reason. There were flaws, incompatibilities, disappointments, or betrayals that led to the end. If you try, you can recall a list of reasons why the relationship was wrong for you. Even if your ex was a good person and left you, the fact remains that they left. A person who chooses to walk away is not the right person for you.

It is tempting, when these feelings return, to seek closure. The questions flood in: Why did it end? Why did they leave? Was it my fault? If I just understood, maybe I could move on. You may feel compelled to reach out, to meet, to talk, to find answers. Yet closure rarely comes this way. Even good people cannot always explain their truth, and those with less noble intentions may reopen doors for their own gain. More often than not, seeking closure only leaves you with more questions and deeper confusion.

When those old feelings rise, bring yourself back to the present. If you are with someone new, turn your attention fully to them. Offer them your best self and the gift of your presence. If you realize you no longer love your current partner, you have the power to decide what comes next, but do not let yourself fall into the illusion that your ex is the answer. Time has a way of softening the bad memories and amplifying the good, making the past appear far more romantic than it truly was. Returning rarely gives you what you hope for.

The truth is that calm love is not boring love. Too often, we measure the quiet steadiness of a healthy relationship against the turbulence of past intensity and find it lacking. We tell ourselves we are settling, that the spark is gone, when in fact, what we have may be richer and deeper than anything we knew before. Calm, consistent love does not exclude passion; it simply carries it in a way that lasts. If you give it room to grow, it may prove to be the most fulfilling love you will ever experience.

Do not let the ghost of an old relationship steal the joy of your present or the promise of your future. The pull of the past is only powerful if you allow it to convince you that intensity equals love. True love is not found in chaos but in clarity, not in the highs and lows but in the steadiness of someone who chooses you every single day.

tj-tbp ©2025 BTMT 

We imagine love ending in explosions

 

10-01-2025

We imagine love ending in explosions. A slammed door. A betrayal. A dramatic scene that could be pulled straight from a movie. Yet most love stories do not collapse in fire and fury. They fade quietly.

They slip away in the silence of dinners eaten side by side while eyes remain fixed on glowing screens. In the shallow “How was your day?” asked without waiting for an answer. In the gradual shift from partners to co-managers of a household. The true enemy of love is not conflict. It is the absence of attention.

Psychologist John Gottman describes the small exchanges that hold the weight of an entire relationship as “bids for connection.” A joke. A sigh. A story. When a partner turns toward these moments, love deepens. When they are ignored, love weakens. A few missed bids may seem harmless. Yet when hundreds accumulate, you can end up lying next to someone and still feel entirely alone.

Decades of research confirm what we already know in our bones. Love and happiness live in the small things. In the 1970s, John and Julie Gottman created the now-famous Love Lab, where couples were studied with cameras, microphones, and even heart-rate monitors. John once admitted he was failing at love, so he turned to science for answers. What they discovered was disarmingly simple: couples who thrived had at least five positive interactions for every negative one. Five smiles for every eye roll. Five touches for every sigh. Five acknowledgments for every ignored moment. When the ratio dropped closer to one to one, the relationship was already in danger.

You often sense the silent killer of love before it has a name. Conversations shrink into checklists. A phone absorbs more attention than a partner. Silence feels easier than speaking. Criticism, defensiveness, contempt, and stonewalling—the Four Horsemen Gottman warns about—begin to color everyday moments. The spark feels gone, and you cannot pinpoint when it slipped away.

In most relationships, women tend to notice first. They are often more attuned to the emotional undercurrent and detect the missing laughter or the quiet sighs long before anything erupts. Many men assume everything is fine until something undeniable happens. By then, silence has already been eroding the foundation for years.

Yet there is hope, and it is not found in grand gestures alone. Love revives the same way it unravels—through daily choices. One of the simplest and most powerful is to dedicate ninety minutes each week solely to one another. No phones. No errands. No small talk about milk or bills. Use that time to ask, “What has been on your heart? What excites you? What are you dreaming about next?” These conversations transform two people from co-habitants into true partners who are building a life together.

Love is not preserved by chance. It is protected by deliberate attention. Meeting each other’s eyes when you speak. Turning toward bids for connection instead of brushing them off. Guarding those ninety minutes as if they are oxygen. Because attention is not just noticing. It is choosing.

The very moments that can quietly kill love also have the power to bring it back to life. So if you wonder whether your relationship can endure, the answer is yes. Your love will survive exactly as long as your attention does.

tj-tbp ©2025 BTMT 

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The Trap of Victimhood

 

09/03/2025 Writing Project... 

 

The Trap of Victimhood 

 

There comes a moment in life when no amount of books, quotes, or motivational talks can move you forward. That moment arrives when you hit a wall that optimism and distraction cannot bypass, and you are forced to face a truth so raw it almost makes you want to close your eyes and ignore it. The truth is that no one is coming to save you. Not your partner, not your family, not your boss, not even luck. Your life is yours alone, and everything you are experiencing is a result of what you have chosen, tolerated, or avoided. At first, this realization feels unfair. Many of us carry scars from experiences that were not our fault—childhood wounds, toxic environments, economic disadvantages, broken systems. Those are real and undeniable. Yet even if something was not your fault, it still becomes your responsibility. Refusing that responsibility only means giving away your power, handing control of your life to circumstances and other people. Responsibility is not about blame; it is about ownership. It is about choosing to act, to respond, to redirect your story rather than remaining a passive character in it. There is a certain comfort in victimhood. When you tell yourself that life has been unfair, you remove the pressure of risk or change. You do not have to confront your patterns or take action; you can point to someone else and say, “That is why my life is the way it is.” Yet that comfort is a cage disguised as safety. The people who never rise beyond mediocrity are often the ones clinging to the narrative of unfairness. Life may have been unkind, but the story does not have to end there. The paradox is that once you accept full responsibility, you begin to feel free. Instead of despair, there is energy. Instead of waiting for rescue, you start creating. That is the turning point where things change—you apply for the job you think you might not get, you walk away from the relationship that is draining you, you begin the project you have been putting off, you take action not because someone pushes you but because you choose to. This is what ownership looks like. It is not about perfect beginnings or privilege. It is about taking what you have, however messy, and working with it. The shift begins when you stop asking “Why me?” and start asking “Now what?” The first question traps you in the past, the second pulls you into action. When you move your focus away from what was unfair and toward what you can build next, you reclaim your time, energy, and sanity. Relationships also change when you understand this truth. Others can add love, support, and connection, but they cannot carry your life for you. You are the foundation. Accepting this does not isolate you—it makes your connections healthier because you are no longer seeking saviors, only partners. Life is not fair, and it never will be. There will be hardships you did not deserve. Yet waiting for rescue is a silent act of self-betrayal. The hard truth is that you are responsible for your life. The liberating truth is also that you are responsible. That means you have the power to change it. Once you accept this, you stop making excuses. You stop living half-asleep. Your life does not transform when circumstances magically improve—it transforms the moment you decide to own it, scars and all. That is the day everything shifts. 

 

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