The Ex-Factor
We all come into relationships with our past, whether romantic, platonic, or friendly. We have had good and bad experiences with others that shape how we interact, communicate, and engage with new people.
I do not like the term "baggage" because it assumes that our past is a burden on ourselves and others, which is not always the case. It also focuses on what we consider negative about someone else – which is an unfair way to approach anyone you want to have in your life. We do not enter the lives of others as perfect beings any more than they enter ours without their own imperfections.
People are wounded. We can be emotionally (and physically) hurt by our parents, friends, lovers, and authority figures. The most intimate wounds affect our most significant relationships, including family, friends, and romantic partners.
Our lives take many paths over time. We may marry, have children, divorce, lose a life partner, break up with a lover, or experience any combination of drastic life changes.
If you are single and dating, it is expected after the age of 40 to meet someone who has children and has experienced a break-up/divorce/custody dispute - and even if you are not at the same point in life, these relationships are complicated.
It is important to remember that this person has lived the first half of happily ever after with someone else, and it did not turn out the way they had planned. Do not become jealous or resentful of their past – it has nothing to do with you. However, the health of the relationship with the ex-spouse/partner/co-parent can profoundly impact your relationship with your partner. Neither side of this equation is optimal, but it does not have to be toxic.
I once heard someone say, "Be where your feet are" - be present for whomever you are with at that moment. Sadly, Whenever I was engaged in battle or a petty dispute with my child's other parent, I could not be present for anyone else. This included not only my kid but anyone I may have been dating. Nothing pushes your buttons like an ex, and 9 times out of 10, I was ready to engage in conflict with baby-daddy no matter the cost. It was unhealthy, and I owe an apology to those I was not present for when I was preoccupied with "winning" an unwinnable argument with someone who did not matter.
I have also been on the losing end of this equation more than once.
When we started dating, I admired that he and his ex-wife could communicate in a somewhat amicable manner. They have three boys together, and there was always a lot going on. I supported both him and her because I cared about the kids, and they needed both of their parents. Over time, I realized that there was unresolved conflict between him and her, disguised as concern for the kids. They loved to argue; she spoke as if she knew everything about everything – he did the same, and he hated letting her have the last word…on anything. They argued over what seemed to be dumb shit, but it was never about the dumb shit at hand. Anger and resentment dated years into the past, and fighting over who was paying for shoes was never about the shoes.
He would usually tell me about the most current conflict at hand, and I would offer my support and perspective. This situation is a slippery slope for anyone, and I was certainly no expert on the subject of co-parent conflict. My ex and I did not speak at all. Over time, and as the kids got older, the confrontations were more intense and lasted much longer. He and his ex would spend entire weekends arguing over text while the kids were with him (and me), and he would become more and more agitated with everyone around him. The more time he spent engaged in conflict with her, the worse it was for him, for the kids, for me, and for our relationship. I was merely an audience for this ongoing cage match, and it started to wear on me. He was not where his feet were, and it should have been a sign that my feet needed to move on.
Sadly, his idea of commitment was to get married, have kids, get divorced, go broke, and yell at each other for the rest of your lives. When he was engaged in these battles, I would withdraw and walk on eggshells because the last thing he needed was for me to ask for/need anything from him. I did not want to be compared to her, so I remained silent and agreeable and listened to him complain about her as a show of support. I was not jealous but soon realized that loving me was not as important to him as resenting her. The most passionate relationship in his life was with his ex-wife, and I was merely a witness to how he preferred spending his time. This became lonely and hurtful, to say the least. His wounds were now my wounds, and I didn't deserve them.
On a particularly contentious weekend, he had become so focused on one such argument that he was texting and driving and nearly had an accident. Me and two of his kids were his passengers, but all that mattered was the next belligerent text he either needed to read or send to the mother of his children. This also happened to be the weekend of my birthday - my birthday was never acknowledged, but every text she sent was given full attention. I needed to say something…so I did. He listened but ultimately came to resent me for standing up for myself. Our relationship started to get weird, and it stayed weird until the end. I learned that the only crossed boundaries that were unacceptable were mine. I could not look out for my physical and emotional safety if it meant he had to ignore his instinct to battle. In his eyes, I had forgotten my place - but he managed to diminish my value.
Over time, it became clear that discussing a long-term commitment to me was a moot point because he was still committed to a miserable, pride-swallowing relationship of his choosing. He was never going to disembark that rollercoaster, but I needed to.
In the last several months that we were together, she had begun a new relationship, and he did a poor job of hiding his jealousy. The boys liked this man, but the constant contact between the exes had diminished. He felt as if he was being cheated on - because he was still emotionally married and loyal to the misery that he had and continued to cultivate, to which he remained addicted.
During the mourning of this lost relationship, there are moments of gratitude. I am thankful that I don't have to witness this behavior or emotionally retreat from my partner to keep the peace. I don't have to come last or walk on eggshells over something I did not do. I am where my feet are and can choose their location more wisely.