The Body Knows

In today's world we are increasingly able to tell stories as they happen. Smartphones, GoPros, documentaries, "embedded" reporters in wars, social media, real-time communications. Unlike any other time in history, we are able to tell – or even watch – a story as it unfolds. But despite this relatively new ability, still the majority of stories are told in retrospect. By the time we document and share, we already have the benefit of hindsight. 

Throughout my life, I've heard people in breakups, separations and divorces who can succinctly tell the story of how it happened and all the clues and signs along the way that in retrospect were the telltale markers. Had only they noticed, listened, taken action, believed, perhaps it wouldn't have gone on so long or some unfortunate part of the story could have been avoided or mitigated. Humans have to make sense of their circumstances. As I mentioned in a previous post, we are storytelling animals and our mental health and indeed our very identities are wrapped up in having a cohesive narrative that orients us. If you think about it, the world is a very confusing place and if you can't tell yourself who you are, how you got there and what you're supposed to be doing – how do you live? It's when people can't do these things that they hit their big crises and often either grow or devolve. In short, we are all trying to make sense of our world all the time and that's not always easy.

I can of course look backward and see the various moments or "warning signs" that formed that path to Emily and my problems. I could list them all here to litigate my complaints and validate my feelings – that's what a lot of people do. But it wouldn't really be fair to either of us. A lot of those moments weren't faults or wrongdoings per se, but moments of truth when someone reveals themselves and it doesn't match with expectations or visions of them. It's not really Emily's fault for who she is and isn't – or where she has lived up to my expectations of her and where she hasn't. Sure, I wish she had risen to the occasion more – but then I wish I had been more honest with myself too. How many times even before our wedding did I have moments of concern? Quite a few.

But stories aren't so straightforward. It's not fair to say "those were the warning signs that I stupidly ignored". Love is a confusing story of give and take – of expectations and projections – or growth and personal failure. It's inevitable that as the initial stages of twitterpated love fade that people are taken aback or even horrified by the person they see without the romance goggles. A lot of who we fall in love with is in our imaginations in the first place. No one is truly as perfect as they start out at the beginning of the relationship – and if they don't seem particularly great at the beginning, it's unlikely to get better from there.

In reality, the devotion one places into accommodating, supporting and even loving the "undesirable" part of their partner is the real love. Loving the unlovable parts is the work – and the depth of the relationship. Accommodating and supporting Emily's anxiety has always been one of the hardest parts of our relationship for me. It's also one of the acts that is most meaningful and necessary to her. Love is doing my best to embrace or at least tolerate, understand and support that anxiety – and help her through it as best I can.

So those "warning signs" along the way – the landmines, hidden traps and pitfalls – are to be expected. No one comes without them and we gamble that there's more good to be had despite them than there is to reject the whole person because of them. And this is a process that happens in degrees and in small moments with many compromises and accommodations along the way. It is both the maturity and the risk because sometimes it leads to great things and sometimes you wake up looking back at how much you have accommodated and changed to your detriment. The process is the same either way and the outcome so variable because our partner undergoes the same process and may not get the same results. What happens when we're too misaligned? One possibility is finding yourself in Patmos for ten weeks – which is honestly not the worst of the potential outcomes….

In yoga and other "bodywork" and meditative disciplines, you often hear the phrase, "the body knows". The mind-body connection is real and we do store stress in our bodies. I'm not sure the body actually "knows" but I think our mind uses our bodies like RAM in a computer – storing away stress and feelings, often converting emotional damage into physical. One of the things yoga tells us is this mind-body connection is a two-way street –  you can use the body to fix the mind. Release the tensions and pains in your body and the emotions stored there can also be released or made conscious enough to deal with. While there is no singular, comprehensive solution – I have found this to be more true than not.

This is why I brought my yoga mat and plan to do yoga daily here. And take walks (which is endemic to Patmos life anyway). I'm also trying an experiment – I'm trying to literally not touch a pen despite having brought a substantial supply of my favorite Papermates with me. Why? Many readers probably already know – but holding and flicking a pen in my right hand is my major anxious habit, sort of my pacifier. It's a well chosen one because there's nothing terribly socially unacceptable or damaging about having a pen in your hand – especially at work and school. My relationship with pens is just a little deeper than most and when you have a brand and model that's your favorite… well my Papermates resemble someone's favorite brand of cigarettes (and there are great reasons for Papermates I could get into another time).

Also, I can feel my habit catching up with my right hand. It's tight and sore a lot. Years of pen gripping and flicking stress have seeped into my hand and I don't want to end up with some deeper physical problem in my hand as I age. So Patmos is as good a place and time as any to quit Papermates cold turkey.

Without trying, my sleep has already changed. For the past several months, I have called asleep most nights on the living room sofa – because it felt too hard to get into bed and fall asleep next to Emily. I would then get up between 1 and 2:30 am and get into bed where I could finish up the night more comfortably. I also found that for perhaps the last year and a half or so, I've been sleeping with my arms crossed against my chest – like I'm physically protecting my heart. I have been wrapped up and tense at night – in a cocoon of defense.  Here, I lay down in a very nice, comfortable bed (unusually comfortable for Patmos) with its airy white linens and fall asleep easily. I'm relaxed, my arms are not crossed over my heart and I sleep deeply and in more varied positions. If "the body knows," then examining this change tells me a lot.

Some places feel particularly safe and allow one to relax. The bedroom at this particular house gives me that feeling I've known in just a few places like Bali and the bedroom in my grandparents' house. There's an opportunity to let go at a deeper level and really fall into sleep.

I'm also less hungry. Which is ironic on Patmos because I want to eat everything. This is no place to slouch away from the cuisine. But I suspect a reduction in cortisol is reducing my appetite – which is fine and for the best.

What does all this tell me? I can't be completely sure yet. It would be easy to conclude that my body is telling me to get divorced and move on with my life. But it could be as simple as saying I'm out of the pressure cooker of a situation I've been in the past year and a half and that relief is palpable – without concluding what should come next. But it could be more. For now, it's an observation and a consideration. After all, getting divorced isn't the end of the pain and stress – but could well be the beginning of entirely new and more intense pains and stresses. Divorce may not solve any problems, but perhaps only complicates or invites new ones. Or not. I don't know yet. It's certainly not the end of pain at least in the short-term. But it could be a change that benefits me in the long-run. Or not. It's only day four on Patmos and too soon to conclude anything. But there are things to note.