Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Second Marriage, Better Wife?

After her first marriage ended in divorce Clover Stroud vowed she'd never walk down the aisle again. A decade on she's tied the knot again and is trying to do things very differently...



Clover Stroud
Photo: LAURA HYND



Never say never again, they say, but when I got divorced, I did just that. I cancelled the gas bill that addressed me as ‘Mrs’ and took off my wedding ring. My finger looked startlingly naked after the glint of gold, but I liked the terse brevity of ‘Ms’.
It suited the new way I felt about myself. Marriage, I insisted to anyone who would listen, was something I’d never, never do again. I was all of 28. But I should never have said never again.
Less than a decade later, I’ve done all the things I said I’d never do – promise to love one person above any other, and yoke my future to his, to say nothing of the dress, the ring and the shared gas bill – again. But being a second wife feels as different from being a first wife as running feels from swimming: they’re different experiences, and just as I can run a marathon but don’t like swimming, I’m hoping that, second time around, I’m better at marriage.
Statistically, this shouldn’t be the case. Statistically, the odds are stacked very much against me, with 60 per cent of second marriages ending in divorce.
A second marriage might be kindled in a mood of triumph, with the optimism of hope over experience, but it will always bring with it challenges the first marriage never faced. Baggage, after all, makes every journey more complicated.

Clover with her second husband, Pete
Along with two very small children, I left my first marriage with enough baggage to require my own baggage handler, and it needed unpacking before I could even attempt another serious relationship, let alone get married again. And a second marriage also has the spectre of the first marriage to contend with.
Left unchecked, that ghost can haunt the present by leaving an imprint of predetermined failure on the new relationship. If I fight with my second husband, I sometimes have to try to silence the tiny voice in my head that starts saying this is the way all marriages end, and here is the past repeating itself.
I understand making this second marriage work isn’t down to luck, to having made the ‘right’ decision this time as opposed to the ‘wrong’ decision last time, but is destined by choice, and me choosing to make the marriage work, rather than let that voice or that ghost overwhelm me.
‘It’s important to think of the second marriage as a separate relationship to the first, and understand there is no overlap of experience with the first,’ says the clinical psychologist Pauline Rennie-Peyton. ‘Subconsciously, the experience of first-time failure will be strong, however optimistic you feel about the new relationship. In a second marriage you have to look at your husband and tell yourself clearly this is different.
'Making that distinction is important, as second marriages can be threatened by memory of divorce as a self-fulfilling prophecy. If your second husband does something your first husband did, you have to resist the temptation to see this as a pattern from the past repeating itself.’
A decade has passed between my two marriages, and as I’ve got better at life, I’ve got better at love, too. We know life is short and time flies along, but a decade in which to take a hard look at my behaviour, and acknowledge the role I’d played in the breakdown of my marriage, occasionally felt like a very long time.

Clover and Pete's wedding car on the day they got married
Understanding that role wasn’t something I wanted to do – or even knew how to do – when, aged 27, I extricated myself from a marriage that started three years before as a pregnant bride. I have absolutely no regrets about my first marriage, despite our divorce, because it was founded on love, even if that love was youthful and unrealistic; we produced two beautiful and wonderful children, and then unravelled very fast.
The journey from the flower-lined aisle to the harsh lighting of a solicitor’s office is always painful. And it’s hard, when hurt, not to point the finger of blame at the other partner. I was angry and hurt, so of course I blamed my ex-husband! But after the swirling drama of decree nisis and decree absolutes, and what to do with my wedding ring and photographs, and after my new world order of life as a single mum had found a rhythm, I had quietly to admit to myself that I was partly responsible for the mess.
While a new, long-term relationship was the last thing I wanted, I knew I had to tackle my own issues before I could imagine life with anyone else.
‘Accepting divorce is always down to two people is really important before embarking on a second marriage. It’s never about one person, even if it feels like it at the time. If you go into a second relationship feeling self-righteous, that the first relationship went wrong purely because of the other partner, the chances are you’ll find yourself in the same place again,’ says Rennie-Peyton. ‘If you go on doing what you’ve always done, your relationships will never change, and some of the things that caused the first divorce will harm the second marriage. Acknowledging you have to change, and not heaping all the blame on the other person, will make embarking on a second marriage easier.’
Making those changes meant learning that stepping down from the winners’ podium in an argument is stronger than insisting on having the last word.
It meant acknowledging that slammed doors don’t achieve anything other than cracked plaster. It meant understanding that sometimes it’s better to confront your own worries – tax bills, deadlines, the children’s reports – than dump them on your partner as he walks in the door.
It meant learning that time together, alone, without children or Blackberries, should be fought hard for, and that tiny acts of everyday kindness to one another add up to something valuable.
Mastering the art of map reading in the car, making a really cracking fish pie and applying a bit of mascara before saying goodbye to my husband and heading out on the school run have probably all helped, too.
Getting better at life and love also meant learning to be realistic about grown-up life, and accepting it can feel relentlessly hard and unfair, but that that’s just how it has to be. After the sting of divorce, it would be easy to enter a second marriage lulled into a false sense of security, with a feeling that things can’t go wrong again because lightning doesn’t strike twice. But all relationships bring with them their own unique issues.
The pause between first and second marriage also helped me identify what I didn’t want to be as a second wife.
I didn’t want to get stuck in a role – the put-upon mother, the domestic drudge – within the relationship. I wanted a malleable relationship that could change shape to face the challenges life throws up, and I wanted someone who loves both the intimacy of domestic life and the thrill of unknown lands when the horizon of the kitchen table becomes suffocating. I knew I needed a mate who likes constant talk as much as I do, and I wanted to find my equal, in every sense of the word. It goes without saying that that person would also have to be big-hearted enough to accept that I brought two children to the relationship.
Wanting and getting are different things, especially when you want as much as I did, so I was very lucky when a friend from university called me out of the blue and asked me for a drink. We met, we liked each other a lot, but we didn’t start going out together for several months. That gave us a moment to catch our breaths – a good thing, because once our relationship did gain momentum, the fact I had children meant we didn’t have much time to bask in the present.

Clover and Pete on their wedding day with Jimmy and Dolly – Clover's children from her first marriage
‘Second marriages involving children can be really challenging. As a couple you hit the ground running, with none of that period of grace – of slowly getting to know one another alone, and of time to fall in love gradually – on which successful relationships without children are built,’ says Mary Ownis, 39, who had been divorced for two years, with twins aged seven, when she met her second husband, with whom she has a two-year-old son. ‘Later you can use your experiences of having had kids to make the challenges of new parenthood easier, if you decide to have more children, but to start with it puts huge pressures on your second marriage.’
Becoming a new stepfamily is difficult, but I am in no doubt the children enhance our relationship in (almost) every way. Having divorced their father, I owe it to them to make our life together really happy, and I’ve learnt from the way my children have wholeheartedly thrown themselves into our new family life, embracing my husband as their stepfather in the most generous way. These two children – now nine and 12 – set the bar very high, and I’m determined not to let them or their new sister, who is just a few months old, down.
Their existence also reminds me that looking to the long picture will make the difference between success and failure second time around. I made the mistake in my twenties of thinking happiness could be instantaneous. Now I work harder on ignoring the short-term worries; and I’m more determined not to let small irritations ruin the bigger picture.
So far I’ve only told you about the hard work, the mistakes and painful lessons learnt, that have gone into making me a better second wife. But it’s not all hard work. There’s something relaxing, for example, about knowing we’ve come into this marriage from a point of imperfection with the shadow of divorce behind us. We’ve never faced the pressures of being that ideal, 2.4-children nuclear family, because we can’t be. The messiness of our status is calming.
‘I never felt the claustrophobia of fulfilling the nuclear dream in my second marriage,’ says Anna Barkes, 45, who had three sons under 10 when she married her second husband. ‘I was divorced with rowdy kids, and I was actually relieved feeling that the milk had already been spilt on the floor. It was liberating and has made me live my life as a wife more fully. Knowing you can never have the perfect set-up lets you off the hook and allows you to relax and enjoy it more.’

Clover and Pete with Jimmy, Dolly (Clover's children from her first marriage) and their daughter Evangeline
Having been in a marriage that went totally wrong might have made me extra vigilant about cracks appearing this time around, but it’s also helped me appreciate and understand what it is that makes the marriage go right, too.
When my first marriage was failing, I went to see a marriage therapist, who said she wished more couples saw her when they were happy so they could get better at perpetuating that feeling.
‘A second marriage teaches you how to keep checks on your relationship, in good times as well as bad,’ says Janice Hillier, a clinical psychologist at the Tavistock Centre for Couple Relationships. ‘You get better at identifying when things are wrong, and act more quickly to resolve them. As a second wife you’re very motivated to make it work, and have learnt how to communicate your own needs better.’
Hillier believes that it’s knowing how high the stakes of failing to communicate are that can make a second marriage easier, as well as the fact that as a second wife, you’re probably more relaxed about accepting the other’s imperfections, rather than struggling to change them.
‘I let my second husband get away with things I would have made a huge scene about first time around,’ agrees Barkes. ‘First time I thought I could change these things. As a second wife, I’m better at letting them be, and accepting that they are what make up the whole person. I’m less agitated as a second wife, calmer.’
Time, of course, will be the harshest judge on whether I’ve really learnt the lessons of my divorce. My second marriage makes me incredibly happy; my husband is my ally and truly my best friend, and I don’t want to go through life without him. But I’m also realistic, and I know that with three children and demanding careers, home life isn’t always going to be roses round the door.
We face the same challenges and problems as any couple. But I hope this time I really am right, because getting married is something I never, ever want to do again.

Source:- http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/9955427/Second-marriage-better-wife.html

Friday, 28 August 2015

5 Things That Made My Divorce 'Almost Fun'


DANCING
Image Source via Getty Images

If there's ever a time you need a little distraction in your life, it's during the divorce process. That's why we launched our Divorce Care Package series. With each post, we'll show you what things -- books, movies, recipes -- helped others relieve stress in the midst of divorce, in the hopes that a few of their picks will serve you well, too. Want to share what got you through your divorce? Email us at divorce@huffingtonpost.com or tweet @HuffPost Divorce
It's a bold claim, but clinical psychologist Barbara Greenberg says she found ways to make the divorce experience "almost fun."
"Did I just say fun?" she joked. "I guess I did. Throughout the divorce year I held tight to the hope that life would improve and become more vibrant as the days passed."
Below, the HuffPost blogger shares five things that reassured her life was still good during her divorce.
The Food
  • Digital Vision. via Getty Images
    "Every Friday night I would get Chinese food and then engage in my stealth operation to get over my ex. What did it involve? I would go get a stack of gossip magazines and go home and read them until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Oh, the pleasure of escapism!"
  • The Distraction
  • Justin Case via Getty Images
    "I worked out like it was nobody's business and I bought lots of cool clothes. Hey, if I was going to take such good care of my body I should dress it nicely, right?"
  • The Song
    "I loved dancing in my own private and joyous way to Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun.' Hey, who doesn't dance and sing privately to get through the rough times? It was so upbeat. By the way, I would be horrified if any of the neighbors saw me doing my little exuberant dance."
  • The Splurge
  • Barbara Greenberg
    "I splurged all right but not to the point where it destroyed my budget. You see, my friend owns a jewelry store where she sells fabulous costume jewelry. At least once a month I would purchase all sorts of baubles like funky earrings, unusual necklaces and assorted other statement pieces. It was so much fun, I think I'll keep doing it for a long time. I love to wear jewelry that makes wonderful jingly sounds as you move around. You should try it."
  • The Saying
    Canva
    "My daughter Amanda bought me a magnet with the saying 'Whatever you can imagine is real.' That sweet girl always seems to get things right. Every single day I looked at that saying and imagined a brighter and happier life. And, yes now I am living it."
Source:- http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/10/how-to-get-over-divorce_n_6291382.html

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

5 Lessons From A Twenty-Something Divorcée

DIVORCE
I remember the conversation well. I'd been separated from my ex-husband for about six months when a friend called with news that another friend was also ending her marriage. "She said something to me that I wanted to get your opinion on," my friend said. "She said that now that she's been through one divorce, it would be easier to go through a second. Is that how it really feels?"
"No," I told my dear friend. "I would never, ever want to go through that again. I can't imagine it ever being anything than the hardest thing you'll ever do."
Now, nearly 18 months removed from our split, I'm grateful for the experience. Not for the failure of our marriage -- because with that comes shame and sadness that you can bury but that never really goes away -- but for what going through a divorce taught me about life and about myself. Whether you've ended a marriage too or gone through a heart-wrenching breakup, perhaps you've also learned these lessons. And if not, let's hope you can learn them vicariously through me rather than through self-experience.
1. I am so strong. 
I used to know that without question. Then, little by little -- so little, in fact, I didn't even notice it -- I lost some of that strength. I was so unhappy, so lost. I looked to my then-husband to make everything right, which is too large of a burden for anyone to bear, let alone a person who no longer wishes to be married to you. So when I was faced with the idea of loading my tiny Toyota Yaris with my clothing, my books, a computer, a TV, the vacuum, and an iron -- sans ironing board -- I was convinced I might die on the 17-hour drive home to Ohio. I thought the loss, the pain, would literally kill me. Not only did I live, but in the next 18 months, I flourished. It's true that the things that don't kill you make you stronger. And sometimes it takes pushing yourself to the edge of what you think you can bear to realize you are strong enough to pick up, move on, and live well.
2. My family and friends do know best. 
My family and friends never really liked my ex. They tolerated him, at best, and were kind enough to (mostly) keep their mouths shut. But any time I asked their opinion, they confessed their concerns. And for my part, I ignored them. I was living a 17-hour drive from my hometown -- what could they possibly know about this man? I reasoned. I was a smart, independent woman. I could tell a dud from a Prince Charming, and I clearly had the latter. Only I didn't. And while I was swept away by insincere words, promises, and cheesy gestures, my friends and family saw down to a selfish, cruel core. The next time they get a "feeling" about a man I bring home, I will listen with open ears and an open heart.
3. Love never really dies. 
It changes. It morphs into something less, something that can't sustain a lifetime or even an hour together. But it never goes away in its entirety. Now, I can't imagine spending my life with my ex. We would have destroyed each other and taken away each other's happiness. But because that little bit of love is still there, I genuinely want him to be happy. I would be completely, totally, bald-faced lying if I wrote that I don't get a little pleasure out of the odd things he gets himself into. (I recently heard, through a friend, that his credit card bears an image of himself -- alone! -- on it, and a waitress swiping the card called him narcissistic. I got a very good laugh out of that.) But I hope, at the end of the day, he has all he needs met and is satisfied with life.
4. The only way you can live with yourself is without regrets. 
It makes me sad when people say they regret their relationships and experiences. Do I wish I could introduce myself as a 28-year-old, soon to be 29, who isn't divorced? Duh. Yes. But I do not regret my marriage, the love I once felt for my husband, the person it made me, and how it prepared me for my next relationship. Of course, there is a part of me that feels like I wasted time on a relationship that ended up crumbling, but as long as I'm happy now -- which I am, so very much -- how could I possibly regret the steps that brought me here? No matter what you face, you should let it create a better, bolder you.
5. Someone else will see me for what I'm worth. 
At about the time I was packing my things to leave, my bra size happened to change -- and it coincided with a semi-annual sale at Victoria's Secret. So I stocked up on bras that would fit and a single corset that was just shy of $25 on sale online -- so pretty, so inexpensive for that retailer that I literally couldn't resist. When the package arrived and I pulled out each item from the box, my then-husband walked into the bedroom. He spotted the black, lacy lingerie and blurted out, "Who exactly do you think will see you in that?" I had no clue. But I also had hope that one day, someone would. And that man might see me for a kind, adventurous, generous woman -- who looked darn hot in that lacy little corset. My ex couldn't see any of that, because he was blinded by all the negative emotions that accompany divorce. But I am so glad I didn't listen to his words and instead chose to believe there would be someone better down the road. Turns out, I was right.

Source:- http://www.huffingtonpost.com/glamour/divorce-lessons-_b_6374662.html

Sunday, 16 August 2015

The Opt-Out Generation Wants Back In


Sheilah O’Donnel tells herself that her new home, a townhouse in a development in Chevy Chase, Md., just a stone’s throw from a Safeway, isn’t really all that bad. Sure, it’s near a gas station. And the front window, with its cheerily upholstered cushions, overlooks a dreary parking lot. And yes, it’s kind of small — “an apartment,” O’Donnel, who is 44, sometimes says bitterly, when she’s reminded of her former life with her ex-husband in their custom-built, six-bedroom home. But then again, it’s perfectly maintained and impeccably furnished, and most important, it’s rented with her own money, from the first real job she has had in almost a decade.
It’s a midlevel sales job, a big step down from the senior position she held before she had children and quit work. When she was first hired, in May 2011, her salary was just a fifth of what she earned at her peak. But, she said, she wasn’t complaining. All around her, she saw women her age scrambling to find work, some divorcing and losing their homes. She liked to help them, editing their résumés, polishing cover letters, pumping up tearful friends who forgot what they were worth after years without a paycheck.
After one emotional session with a friend, her 12-year-old daughter asked what all the fuss was about. O’Donnel told her: “This is the perfect reason why you need to work. You don’t have to make a million dollars. You don’t have to have a wealthy lifestyle. You just always have to be able to at least earn enough so you can support yourself.”
Nine years ago, O’Donnel was promoting a very different message. She was a spokeswoman of sorts for a group of women — highly educated, very accomplished, well-paid professionals with high-earning spouses — who in the early 2000s made headlines for leaving the work force just when they were hitting their stride. They were a small demographic to be sure (another, larger, group who left the work force at that time — poor mothers who couldn’t afford child care — went without notice), but they garnered a great deal of media attention.

Saturday, 15 August 2015

No, There Are No "Benefits" To Being The Other Woman




Photo Courtesy of WeHeartIt
Photo Courtesy of WeHeartIt
“I’ve heard that relationships with married men are the most fulfilling,” a single woman said in response to a married man’s claim that all married men eventually consider an affair. I grumbled and rolled my eyes, so she asked, 
“Have you ever dated a married man, Stephanie?”
Her question took me right back to the first day of that relationship. 
I was singing along to the car radio when I realized my turn was approaching, and I would need to swiftly change lanes to make it. At the red light, I glanced over to the driver on my left, hoping to make eye contact and convey my intentions. He smiled back and sent sparks straight out of his eyes and into my belly, igniting the fluttery wings of 45 butterflies.
I returned a flirty smile and gestured my intention to move into his lane. As the light turned green, he paused to allow me in front of him and then moved into the lane I had exited. At the next red light, we shared smiles, and sparks, again. I made my turn, and waved goodbye.
I parked at my destination, a couple of blocks down, and slowly climbed out of my car, hopeful the gorgeous human would find his way to me. I spotted his black SUV driving toward me, and walked up to him as he pulled up curbside.
“My how swiftly one becomes a stalker,” I teased through his rolled down passenger side window, his sun-kissed handsome face smiling back at me. We chatted for an hour, making us late for our next appointments, and bid farewell by making a date to get together the next day.
The romance whirled around us each time we met for coffee.
He was smart, successful, handsome, and charming. He thought I was amazing and spared no compliment currency. He was as perfect as men come, if not for one exception: he was married. But he was on the brink of divorce, he explained. He was still living in the house, but in a separate room and was actively searching for his own place.
I wanted to share the relationship with my friends; I hoped to go out in public without worry that someone might see us who hadn’t been caught up to the reality he was living. For the time being, we needed to keep our connection to ourselves.
He’s worth it, I told myself. He’s worth waiting for.
Our feelings had grown stronger, and he even admitted he was falling in love with me. We both agreed we hadn’t felt such magnetism toward anyone in a long time, if ever.
Several weeks into the relationship, I was home, stirring taco meat as I made dinner for my children, when the phone rang. 
“What kind of a woman are you, what kind of mother are you?” the woman on the other end asked coldly.
The heat of my heartbeat surged through my body and burned, along with her words, into my ears. 
“I’m sorry, who is this?” I asked. 
It was my secret beau’s wife. They were still working on the marriage, she said, and weren’t anywhere near the end . . . and it certainly wasn’t helping that some jezebel was in the picture, trying to tempt him away from his wife and children.
As though I had fallen into a hornet’s nest, her words buzzed from all directions, each delivered with a thud and a sting.
Why hadn’t he warned me? I was his sweetheart. A woman like no other, a beautiful light in his every day. And he couldn’t even send me a quick text about life hitting the fan and an angry wife trying to send me into anaphylactic shock with her words?
I’ll never forget the many ways she chose to question my character that day.
But I listened as she became sick with her emotions. I wasn’t an intentional home wrecker, I said, enraging her even more. The scent of burning, popping taco meat brought me back into the moment around me: my children had gathered in the fringes of the kitchen, their big, batting eyes full of concern. 
“I’m really sorry about this, but I need to go,” I said.
“I just want to know why,” she demanded. 
“I think that is a question you need to work out with your husband,” I replied.
I wanted to share all of the things he had said about the demise of their marriage, but I realized I had already become far too entrenched and it was time to get out. Regardless of what Mr. Amazing had shared, I had chosen to step into the muddy water of their marriage.
The moment I hung up the phone was pivotal in my life. I will never forget her voice, her pain. I had always prided myself on having an outstanding moral compass, and I’m ashamed I allowed selfishness and temptation to spill over and hurt others. I take my role as a member of the Sorority of Sisterhood seriously and, with each day, as I hear and share the stories of women, as I represent the women in my region as the editor of a woman’s magazine, and as I blog on the adventures in womanhood, that commitment to you has never been clearer.
I have vowed, without question, to never entertain a relationship with someone who doesn’t have miles of distance between us and his last committed relationship. I vow, without question, to honor the bonds of womanhood.
You have my word. Do I have yours?
Source:- http://www.xojane.com/sex/no-there-are-no-benefits-to-being-the-other-woman