The High Road
I was speaking with a friend today and she told me that I was her hero. I laughed since I really don't consider myself all that heroic. And then she explained why. She too is a single mom, and her separation and divorce were relatively uneventful. However, her (quite recent) ex is now in a relationship with a former friend of hers. It's hard as hell for my friend to deal with this. Then again, is it ever easy?
When I was not-so-newly separated, I found out the reason my ex left. He had told me that he needed some time alone. Unless you consider going to Mario Batali restaurants with a floozy a solitary activity, I don’t think there was too much alone time. I was mad. I was sad. And I was lost. I wanted to call him — and her — every name in the book, spray a big old red "A" on her house, and remove the "Honest Lawyer" sign from his office wall.
But I didn't. Miraculous, really, considering the situation. Instead, I took deep breaths, pulled up my big-girl underwear and proceeded as calmly as possible. I shocked a lot of people by doing this — even myself.
How did I manage to pull that off? In this midst of all the drama (and don't get me wrong, there was plenty of it), I asked my yoga teacher if she had any words of wisdom for me. And she did. "Always take the high road with him," she told me, "You can take the low road with your friends. You never regret taking the high road."
So that's exactly what I did. When emotions got high and hackles got raised, I stayed as calm as possible. When my ex threatened me, I tried to negotiate rather than raising the stakes higher. It wasn't all good and perfect. My sister received plenty of weepy phone calls, and my lawyer — more than once — had to assure me that my ex could not take my child away. Instead of yelling at him, I arranged girls nights where I was surrounded by amazingly supportive women and multiple bottles of Rioja. Believe you me, during those evenings I dragged him through the low road. Boy, did that feel good.
Remember that old commercial for deodorant, "Never let them see you sweat?" Well, I didn't. Although in the beginning, there were plenty of teary and/or angry conversations. But then I smartened up. I knew that if I let them, my emotions would get the better of me. So I decided to not let them come out to play. I was passive, neutral. The wounded woman as Switzerland. He would make a joke and I'd give a wan smile. When he got angry, I would listen quietly and then hang up the phone. I don't really care how good the deals are on bluefly.com (seriously, he tried to tell me about them), but thanks anyway.
He was already gone from the marriage — physically, but sentimentally too. What good would it do me to rant and rave? There was only one person who was going to get riled up by that. Me. He had already proved himself to be emotionally and morally bankrupt. He no longer cared that I sobbed myself to sleep every night or that I had pretty much stopped eating. Damn if he was going to see one iota of weakness from me. Even though I was a mess inside, my exterior was tough and unfeeling. And the crazy thing is that after a while I managed to internalize that toughness. I grew stronger, and I realized that I had willed myself to grow more backbone than I ever thought possible.
So when my friend asked me for advice, I simply told her to take the high road. And she's trying, but it's hard. Oh, honey, I know it's hard. I called her today. She told me about a setback she had, and I told her about a setback I had. It happens. But we pull up those big-girl underpants (mine have pictures of guns and kisses — honestly) and move on.
Take the high road to his face. Take the low road behind his back. It's not an easy thing to do. But I feel better about myself when I do it. (And then I feel much better when I dish with my friends later.) Because sometimes — just sometimes — the road less traveled is the one that makes all the difference. Thank you, Robert Frost.
Author: Stacey Linden
