part0013

When we are children, our parents, teachers, and mentors offer us aphorisms—words of wisdom—to help us navigate life’s perils. We’re told “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” “Looks can be deceiving,” and “All that glitters is not gold.” These sayings carry a great deal of truth. Especially when it comes to evaluating human beings.

Many people who appear joyful and carefree on the outside are, or could be, in fact, carrying dark inner demons. For instance, someone who may present himself as strong and in control may actually feel weak and inadequate. How often do we hear stories about people who are, by all conventional standards, happy, successful, rich, and accomplished, only to then die by their own hands? The recent self-inflicted deaths of comedian Robin Williams, celebrity chef and TV travel host Anthony Bourdain, and fashion designer Kate Spade were all brutal reminders of how even individuals who appear to be leading amazing lives can find day-to-day existence unbearable.

My husband, as it turns out, became a victim of something darker. Throughout this book, I have described him as a party boy, a reveler, and an uninhibited pleasure seeker. As I later learned—and perhaps suspected for some time—his uncontrolled behavior was just a cover for a much darker side. The “business trip” he took to Las Vegas turned out to be a wild getaway with friends. Umesh’s non-stop partying took a dark turn when his companions lost track of him. When they finally found him, they brought him to a local hospital where he was put under observation and treated for an anxiety breakdown coupled with alcoholism.

“Go on without me,” he later told me, sobbing on the phone after I finally learned the truth about what had happened. “I’m no good for you.”

But I wasn’t about to abandon Umesh. Upon his return, we sought psychiatric treatment for him. It was during these sessions that medical professionals diagnosed Umesh as bipolar II. They made this determination based on the fact my husband had had two major depressive episodes lasting at least two weeks each, as well as one hypomanic episode. (The latter relates to an episode of euphoria not quite as extreme or severe as full-blown mania.) Importantly, according to experts, possessing such genetic tendencies can increase the risk of mood swings, depression, violence, and even suicide.

Although the medical professionals told me in no uncertain terms that Umesh suffered from a serious and potentially life-threatening condition, I refused to accept the diagnosis. I was in classic denial. I still saw Umesh as the sexy, wild-and-crazy kid I had fallen for back in high school, not the broken, bitter young man he had become. My failure to acknowledge his situation and his pain is something I regret to this day.

But even after several weeks of therapy, Umesh remained depressed and withdrawn. He fell victim to a series of illnesses, many related to his alcohol consumption, and others, I suspect, partly psychosomatic. This made it difficult for him to work. Over the next seven years, we went through a series of therapists and interventions, and the pattern was always the same. Umesh would express a strong desire for help. He would be given exercises or medications, or other therapeutic techniques designed to alleviate his symptoms, leading him to the road of recovery. He’d even adhere to the prescribed regimen for perhaps one or two weeks. But then the effort would prove too great and he would backslide.

Once he slipped up, he would return to old habits. Eventually, I would realize he had relapsed, forcing a series of emotional and painful recriminations. Umesh would then beg for forgiveness—or lash out at me, depending on his mood—and the whole awful cycle would begin anew. We were living in our very own substance-fueled, nightmarish version of Groundhog Day, with Umesh and me fated to experience the same chain of events on an endless loop.

So, why did I stick with him? I often asked myself this same question, and each time, I returned to the same answer. I believed—I honestly believed—that if I just held on long enough, things would improve. I know this sounds like the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again, and each time expecting a different result. But I was ignoring this admonishment in favor of the even simpler saying, “If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.”

What did I say earlier about aphorisms ?

After each failure, Umesh and I would regroup, try to determine where we had failed, and conceive of yet another way to attack his problem. But the more we talked, the more we disagreed, leading to fights resulting in mutual feelings of hopelessness, exhaustion, and emptiness. In time it became clear Umesh needed to a find a new way back to health. And I needed to find a way to cope until he did.

I asked Umesh to leave our home. I felt hopeless, guilty, and saddened as I realized our problems were bigger than the both of us. It was decided that distance and separation might be a plausible resolution for the time being. At the same time, our financial situation was in the negative, so I borrowed $2,000 from my mother and bought a round-trip ticket to Bangalore, India. Umesh had seen a therapist—let’s call him Dr. Khatri—with whom both of us had connected to early in his treatment. Dr. Khatri ran a center specializing in the use of yoga and naturopathy to promote physical and mental health in Bangalore, a megacity of more than 10 million people.

There were several reasons we felt going to this center was a good idea. First, Dr. Khatri said he could collaborate with us, both jointly and individually, to provide the needed coaching and tools to deal with our increasingly desperate situation. Second, I felt compelled to connect with the land of my ancestors. Having visited India several times as an adult, I believed this 5,000-year-old civilization—one which had given rise to Jainism, Hinduism, Sikhism, and Buddhism—held the key to my spiritual salvation. Finally, I had to get out of Orange County. There were just too many associations here, too many triggers, pushing us back into old patterns and habits. I figured going halfway around the world might grant me the perspective and clarity to get our lives back on track.

Umesh left first for Bangalore, undergoing three weeks of individualized treatment before I joined him for my own regimen of customized therapy. Although this was not my first visit to India, I still felt a jolt of culture shock when I departed the airport by taxi and headed into the city. The sheer mass of humanity was overwhelming. I had spent some time in both Chicago and Los Angeles, and while the freeway traffic in both cities is the stuff of legend, once you get off the major roads and highways, moving about freely is rarely an issue.

Not so in Bangalore. It’s wall-to-wall people, cars, buses, and bicycles wherever you go. The city smells different, too, blending the noxious odor of vehicle exhaust with the pungent odors of native cooking and water pollution. The architecture is stunning, an eclectic mix of ornate British Imperial palaces, monochrome mid-20th century apartment buildings, and wildly futuristic office towers straight out of a science fiction movie.

Although situated in the heart of bustling Bangalore, Dr. Khatri’s center felt remote and peaceful. There, he and his staff introduced me to a wide range of life-altering tools, including dietary changes, yoga instruction, meditation, and individualized marriage and relationship therapy. Umesh and I also encountered a South Indian saint who offered us a unique perspective on life and its meaning. (I have kept in touch with this venerable guru ever since, and he’s had a major impact on my ability to behave bravely.)

Happily, the therapy—which lasted several weeks—was nothing short of life altering, resulting in a major mindshift for us both. Before I went to India, I believed many of my problems were the fault of Umesh, his bipolarism, and his addictions. Now I understood that if I were ever to heal, I had to change my own patterns first, especially my beliefs and expectations. This revelation led to a major spiritual reawakening that Umesh sensed, too.

Returning to Orange County, Umesh and I decided to live separately as we worked to implement the healing and growth techniques we had learned in India. Sanam lived with me, although Umesh would visit her regularly. (She would later stay with him during her summer vacation.) My daily routine consisted of getting her dressed, taking her to the park, and later, when she got a bit older, to preschool. Throughout the day, I made certain Sanam was rarely out of sight.

During this period, I continued speaking with my good friend, Amisha. She provided the empathy and sympathy I needed to carry on. Not only that, but she also offered useful advice. For example, she recommended I avoid topics and issues I knew would antagonize Umesh, and not to respond whenever he tried baiting me into arguments. I had three other friends I found I could turn to as well, but while I was always able to take comfort in their company, I soon found myself again searching for answers. And despite the insights I had gained in India, I continued to view many of my actions through the prism of how they would affect Umesh. And the more I focused on him, the more I lost my sense of self.

As time went on, Umesh and I continued going to individual therapy. (We no longer sought help as a couple.) When one therapist didn’t work out, we’d try another. Between us, we saw five different therapists over an eight-year period. Each provided some tool, insight, or takeaway I found valuable, but none offered the comprehensive solution we so desperately desired. (The penultimate therapist we saw suggested I pursue a hobby, something I could do just for myself. This led me to learn the tabla , an Indian percussion instrument I had always found fascinating.)

While Umesh and I had many issues, one of them was not the issue that destroys so many marriages: infidelity. As far as I know, while he often drank to excess, could not control his spending, and often preferred to spend his free time with his buddies instead of with me and Sanam, Umesh never cheated on me.

Of course, not all affairs are sexual. There is such a thing as “emotional cheating.” Emotional cheating is rarely talked about. You almost never see it portrayed in movies or TV shows. It’s not nearly as salacious or scandalous as traditional sexual infidelity. It never leads to unwanted pregnancies or illegitimate children. But an emotional affair can be just as destructive as a sexual one. Perhaps even more so. Because while a sexual affair can always be dismissed with “It didn't mean anything,” the power—and danger—of an emotional affair is the fact that, by its very nature, it does mean something.

An emotional affair is one in which a married individual turns to someone else for emotional support and emotional intimacy. This other person becomes the sounding board for you to discuss your hopes, dreams, fears, and desires. The “other” in an emotional affair is more than just a “friend.” He/she becomes an intimate confidante. A confessor. You know you’re having an emotional affair when you realize you’d rather spend time with this individual than your own spouse.

And here, I have to confess that I bear some guilt. For while I have no evidence that Umesh ever cheated on me sexually, I did indeed cheat on Umesh emotionally. Twice.

The first affair began in 2002. I had just started working in HR for a national health care company. One of my clients, an internal customer, was a vice president of sales. Let’s call him “Jake.” When I started in my role, he asked to meet me to discuss hiring needs.

We met in the hallway outside his office. He was in his late 30s. Caucasian. Tall. Brown-eyed, with close-cropped brown hair that was just starting to show flecks of grey. His custom-tailored suit perfectly complemented his slim, athletic frame. He offered his hand, and I shook it. His grip was firm but friendly. Just like a salesperson’s handshake should be. Immediately, our eyes locked. I felt an immediate attraction. From the look in his eyes, I could sense that he felt it, too.

Over the next year, Jake and I worked together regularly. And I have to admit, I was crushing on him pretty hard. When we talked on the phone, we’d always drift from business matters to our personal lives. Every few weeks, we’d go out to lunch and talk about our families, our interests, and our frustrations. I felt completely relaxed around him. So much so that I occasionally flirted outright with him.

But it never went further than that. Not that I didn’t fantasize about him sexually. I did. But he was married. I was married. Whenever I thought of Jake and me getting together, I thought about my daughter and what the revelation of an affair might do to her. And I thought of my family. No one on either my father’s side or my mother’s had ever divorced. In the conservative Indian culture in which I was raised, such a thing was unthinkable! (Strangely, I never factored Umesh into this. We had ceased being intimate some time ago.)

I like to think that I was too noble to pursue Jake physically, but the fact is, I was just too scared. My desires, as strong as they were, were overruled by my fears. Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. There’s a reason humans invented guilt. It often prevents us from doing things we would most certainly regret later.

My second emotional affair occurred eight years later. Let’s call him “Sanjay.” An Indian-American of about 40, he was applying for an executive role with one of my clients. I interviewed him as I would any other job candidate. I found him to be intelligent. Charming. Funny. Though I gave him a solid recommendation, alas, he did not get the position. However, a few weeks later, he emailed me to go out for coffee. He said he wanted to network. I agreed. We met several mornings later at a nearby restaurant and basically talked shop. We exchanged business cards and I offered him leads on other possible job opportunities. After that, we continued to keep in touch via email, as I did with many of my other contacts.

Then, a few weeks later, Sanjay invited me out to dinner. I suspected he was interested in me personally, and I flashed back to my “near miss” with Jake eight years prior. Still, I was flattered. More than that, I was curious. I was intrigued. So I agreed to the “date.”

We met at one of South County’s higher-end restaurants. It turned out, we had a lot in common, and I freely shared a lot of personal information with him. By this time, I was already legally separated from Umesh ― more about this shortly ― so I did not feel the same degree of guilt I had when I went out with Jake. But I was not ready to get intimately involved with someone who was not my husband. Especially not a married man.

We continued to see each other for several times thereafter. During one of these “dates,” Sanjay told me that his wife was possibly seeing another man. At this point, I realized we were relying on each other for emotional comfort and solace. I also recognized we were quickly heading down a path that could lead to some very complicated, perhaps even messy, entanglements. My relationship with Umesh was not yet resolved, and the last thing I needed now was to complicate things further. So, as gently as I could, I ended the relationship.

In either of these cases, did I “cheat” on Umesh? I think a good lawyer could argue otherwise. However, from a purely ethical standpoint, I believe I did. A marriage isn’t just about monogamous sex. It’s about a deep and lasting emotional connection. It’s about having shared values ambitions, being there to support the other in times of need. If someone else is filling these latter roles, it greatly diminishes the quality of the marriage. I take full responsibility for my actions in this area, and only take comfort in the fact I did not pursue these relationships further than I did.

Before our eventual separation, back when Sanam was about 5 years old, Umesh returned to his alcoholic ways with a vengeance. Realizing the direness of the situation, some helpful family members and I staged an intervention. Confronting Umesh in his living room, we expressed our love for him, but also our distress over his self-destructiveness. When it was my turn to speak, I confessed his drinking made me feel angry, desperate, and often hopeless. I was careful to emphasize I did not want to divorce him but needed him to get better so we could return to the life we had when we were first married.

Feeling both the pressure and the support from all of us, Umesh agreed to seek help from Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). He began attending local AA groups at various South County locations on and off for about a month. Whenever I asked about these meetings, he would shrug them off or insist the goings-on were “confidential.” But then one day he surprised me by bringing home a pamphlet for the O.C. chapter of Al-Anon and suggested I go.

I immediately balked at this. He was the one with the problem , I thought. Why should I go? He explained that Al-Anon is a support group for people affected by a family member’s drinking. (Apparently, he had heard about Al-Anon from a fellow AA member and believed I could benefit from it.) Because Umesh had agreed to join AA, I agreed to give Al-Anon a try.

Little did I know at the time how much this group would change my life. My first task was to learn about Al-Anon: where it held its meetings and what I could expect once I arrived. For those of you who don’t know about this amazing organization, it was founded in 1951 by two women known only as Anne B. and Lois W., the latter being the wife of AA co-founder Bill W.

Unlike AA, the group is not designed to help addicts, but instead provide support for families of individuals who abuse alcohol and drugs. In fact, the group’s literature specifically defines alcoholism as a “family illness” that damages non-drinking family members as much as it does the addicts themselves. It adheres to the same 12-step program developed for AA, but in step 12 replaces the word “alcoholics” with the word “others.” I saw nothing but possible benefits in sharing my thoughts, hopes, and fears with others who were dealing with a challenge similar to my own.

I attended my first Al-Anon meeting on a Monday evening at a church in the city of Tustin. Admittedly, I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect. Held in a small room, roughly a dozen chairs were arranged in a circle. Just like in the movies I’d seen, there was a table set to the side for coffee and pastries. All of the people I met greeted me warmly. They represented a virtual cross-section of the city’s diverse population, with the genders divided almost equally between men and women.

As a new guest, I was invited to introduce myself—first name only, of course—and to explain why I had come. I told my story in as much detail as I dared, but before I could even get halfway through, I broke down crying. At the end of the meeting, a 40ish red-haired woman approached me with a hug.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling sheepish for my tears, yet grateful for this stranger’s warmth.

Her name was Katie, and she offered to become my “sponsor,” the person I could turn to in times of need, day or night. I apologized for my breakdown, but Katie insisted I had done well that night.

“If you’re sharing, you’re working,” she told me.

This was certainly news to me, and it made me feel even better about my decision to come here.

As Katie and I continued to talk, she advised me to enroll in the group’s 12-step program. “Seriously,” she said, “It’s just as effective for family members as it is for the abusers themselves.” Still, she warned me this was an arduous, time-consuming process. Should I need help along the way, she promised to be there for me just as her sponsor had been when she joined the group five years prior.

“You can’t do it alone. Nobody can. ”

I told her I was ready to accept any help I could get.

The next day, I was out jogging when Katie called me. After asking me how I was doing, I launched into a litany of complaints about Umesh. Like my old guru back in India, Katie insisted she couldn’t help me if I continued to focus on Umesh and his behavior.

“You needed to get out of his head and into your own.”

Such sagacious advice convinced me Al-Anon could be my path to salvation, and I ended up going to meeting after meeting. It soon became my rock, my home away from home. And Katie and the other members became my surrogate family. In some ways, we connected more deeply than my real one because we shared not blood, but life experiences. We knew each other’s stories in ways even our parents and siblings never could. Katie soon advised me to become group treasurer, her way of making sure I continued to attend meetings. Her suggestion worked because I never missed another that year.

Thanks to Katie’s support, I made it through all 12 steps:

In spite of the progress I made in Al-Anon and the other efforts to positively transform my life, by spring 2013, I knew it was over between Umesh and me. Our relationship had run its course. It sounds strange to say this, but the good news was both Umesh and I had sufficiently recovered enough to divorce. Still, over the years, people have asked me why I decided to split at this time, when both he and I were “doing better.”

The reason is simple. Divorce is brutal. The upheaval can destroy the weak and the vulnerable. Both parties must be strong and capable to survive. It had been clear to me for years that Umesh and I had no future together, but I wanted to stay true to my vows, and didn’t want to put Sanam through the trauma. In addition, I feared that if I initiated proceedings earlier, he might relapse. So I waited until I felt we were both ready for the emotional, spiritual, and financial impact a divorce would trigger .

Not that I didn’t still feel guilty about what I was doing. I kept thinking about all of the people who would be affected by this decision: our family members, our friends—but most of all, Sanam. I waited so long because I wanted to make sure she had the emotional maturity to handle it. I needed her to not just think, but to know , this was the best thing for all of us—that struggling to stay together for the sake of appearances or maintaining some semblance of “normalcy” was only delaying the inevitable.

When I announced my decision to Umesh, he asked for a year to think about it. I agreed to his request for a delay. That he was hesitating suggested he saw our future quite differently than I did. I understood his reticence. After all, I was his life preserver, the person he could always count on to rescue him when he got in over his head. (His words, not mine.) Letting me go meant he was now wholly responsible for himself. And I’m sure that frightened him terribly. Because it frightened me, too.

The following spring, I asked Umesh for a decision. He graciously agreed to the divorce. A few months later, we signed the necessary papers. That was it. Our marriage was over. Disappointment, shame, fear, and sadness filled Umesh and me. After all, we had spent much of our lives together, and now that was all in the past. But underneath all these negative feelings, a faint but palpable sense of hope also began to emerge. I had finally turned the page on what had been a harrowing chapter of my life’s journey. What such a significant change would bring, I couldn’t say. But I was eager to find out.

In the following section, we will explore the story of my client who also experienced a challenging marriage that threatened to dismantle her self-identity and led to years of unhappiness. It’s my hope that by sharing it with you, it will offer some insights on how to behave bravely in the face of matrimonial adversity.

Laila is a Middle Eastern woman from the United Arab Emirates (UAE) who married an American and has been living in the United States for several years. When I met her in 2017, she had just quit a fabulous job at PepsiCo as a sustainability/environmental manager—requiring her to travel and work long hours—to focus on her husband and 3-year-old daughter. The couple had just moved to Orange County so she could be closer to her brother in Irvine.

But then life threw her a major curve ball. She learned her husband had, for years, been cheating on her with their housekeeper. Shaken and furious, her anger was so palpable she could barely contain it at times. A driven professional with an indomitable will, she refused to succumb to negativity. Instead, she threw herself into focusing on two major goals:

When I first began working with Laila, she was still reeling from her husband’s betrayal. Angry, fearful, and resentful, she wanted to “get even” with her husband. This meant breaking him down, ridiculing him, and disrespecting him so he would suffer like she did.

Laila possessed serious life/career issues that threatened to disrupt her equilibrium and life outlook. Having discovered her husband’s infidelity, she now contemplated divorce, yet was confused about the prospect. She also felt conflicted between her professional ambitions and maternal responsibilities.

Laila was emotionally torn and intellectually confused. She felt she needed new tools to cope with her mounting anger and frustration.

At times, Laila blamed herself for her husband’s affair. Her (limiting) belief told her she wasn’t sexy or attractive enough for him to be interested in her. Her doubts about her femininity and attractiveness went back decades. Growing up in a culture where males and females were most often segregated, she had, as a child, little experience with boys. Like all women in this socially rigid society, she led a segregated existence. To compensate for her perceived lack of beauty and desirability, she focused on her studies and professional achievement throughout her early years without ever cultivating a strong sexual identity .

I wanted Laila to understand—and believe—that she was, indeed, sexy, attractive, desirable, and worthy of love. To help her develop a more positive self-image—to reveal her “inner girl” and validate her sexuality—I suggested using what I call “The Pretend Strategy.”

This involves assuming the persona of the individual one wants to become, acting in character until it becomes part of who you really are. (In other words, “Fake it ’til you make it.”) This is similar to a benevolief , but involves action, not just visualization. To achieve this mindshift, I worked to reset Laila’s rage-fueled thinking with more positive messages, focusing on establishing healthier habits. I wanted her to learn how to validate herself by looking not at her outward, physical appearance, but inward at her behavior, attitude, and values.

Simultaneously, I advised Laila to employ the Forgiveness Technique. We are often told forgiveness is required if we are ever to transcend the pain of past traumas. Similar to ideas put forth in Al-Anon and AA, the first step is to identify the individual (or individuals) you believe have wronged you. To this end, I asked Laila to write a letter covering three topics:

The above very much aligns with the Readiness and Vision part of the BRAVE principles. Often, we are not ready to rebuild our relationships, yet forgiveness can be an essential first step. In Laila’s case, forgiveness would allow her to see things from her husband’s perspective, promoting healing within her .

I also counseled Laila to employ The Sun Ray Technique to remind herself of those qualities that initially attracted her to her husband. I asked her to draw a large circle with sun rays emanating from it. I then had her write her husband’s name in the center of the circle. On each sun ray she listed an attribute she admired about him: intelligence, confidence, sense of humor, etc.

As a result of participating in the above exercises, as well as doing crucial self-work, Laila was at last able to recognize her husband’s affair wasn't all about her but was instead rooted in many of his own issues. This epiphany forced a little opening in her thinking, leading her to adapt a new attitude of compassion.

Laila updated her personal “brand”—not only her choice of clothes and makeup, but also her interests, hobbies, and priorities. Working together we ensured these choices weren’t arbitrary or based on others’ expectations but were expressions of her truest desires.

Laila needed specific aspirations that would help her cope more successfully with life’s challenges. By having a clearer vision of where her life was headed, she could place short-term setbacks and disappointments into better perspective. She also needed help designing a better job search strategy. She had to clearly “see” the type of position she desired, the work she wanted to do, and the affects her activities would have on herself, her family, and on the larger world.

Together, we designed and implemented steps to launch Laila’s career search. After mapping specific goals, we developed strategies for supporting her financial needs while developing a sustainable work/life balance.

I helped her make better personal and financial decisions, including creating a monthly savings plan, in the event she would have to weather a divorce. Through my tutelage, Laila learned a number of valuable techniques to help her build stronger interpersonal relationships.

In particular, she discovered how to accept and cultivate her own vulnerability, both personally and professionally. As part of the above, we also instituted a gentle morning workout routine that included listening to music to quiet her mind and relieve stress. I also suggested Laila begin keeping a daily journal to tamp down rage triggers.

Now that we had a series of personal/professional goals, we developed a road map to achieve them. Focusing first on the personal, my primary objective was to make Laila aware of her rage mindset. To do this, I focused on creating good habits to inform her daily routine. I also introduced new self-validation techniques to reframe her self-image and definition of beauty. Encouraging her to return to her personal vision statement on a daily basis, I emphasized repeated reinforcement to strengthen her mindshift . Ultimately, I wanted her to be enthusiastic about who she was and what her life could become.

I believed that if Laila could make herself feel good physically, the other changes would be less difficult to achieve. As noted earlier, Laila biggest challenge involved forgiving her husband for having the affair. Forgiveness would free her to move forward, not just in her personal life, but her professional one, too .

Under my direction, Laila did the following to advance her career:

Per our program, Laila began each day with a workout routine supported by music. This allowed her to focus her mind and prepare herself for the day ahead.

Once she had completed her routine, Laila would make an entry in her journal describing her feelings and state of mind. Before starting her new regimen, the first thing Laila thought of when she awoke was her husband’s affair. This grief caused her to begin each day in a state of rage. Many mornings, she dealt with this rage by confronting its source—her husband—leading to a predictable exchange of accusations and recriminations. I instead suggested that she start each day in such a way to dissipate this rage and help her avoid confrontations that would inevitably lead to more anger and pain. (In fact, this new approach seemed to have precisely this desired effect, as reflected in the increasing positive entries she put in her journal.)

To ensure Laila stuck to her plan, I asked her to make a weekly appointment with herself. Its purpose: To help her discover her inner girl. Once a week, she was to go to her favorite spa or department store and experiment with makeup and fashion choices, something she had never done in previous years. I also wanted her to study sex. She could access anything to open her eyes to the pleasures, opportunities, and romantic variety she had for so long missed out on.

Her husband complained that Laila never smiled. So, she ventured to the makeup counter at one of South Coast Plaza’s high-end department stores. There, she tried a variety of lipsticks and literally practiced smiling in a mirror. This was to cultivate Laila’s inner girl and increase her sexual confidence. (Why? We must feel sexy inside before we can convey our appeal to others.)

Again, to bring out Laila's inner girl, we worked on developing playfulness and flirtation. Like all women, Laila wanted to be adored. Since childhood, she had been trained to believe such feelings were inappropriate. We needed desperately to mindbreak her from that repressive attitude, and mindshift her into a position of empowerment .

Laila implemented the professional job search protocols we designed and stuck to the schedule. As a result, she received numerous inquiries from companies meeting her criteria, landed several successful interviews, and received a lucrative job offer at the company where she continues to work to this day.

Laila has lost 10 pounds and is maintaining a very balanced exercise/meditation program.

Laila is much clearer about her life goals.

Laila has become much better about reducing her feelings of rage. She has not completely forgiven her husband, but she has become more comfortable with herself and her own ability to change the way she feels about outside triggers.

I recognized the rage and fear my own marriage once caused within me. For me, it was only through working with Umesh that we were able to arrive at a harmonious solution.

I was reminded of the need for gentleness and compassion in intimate relationships.

I discovered the ongoing nature of recovery from grief and pain, something I am still working on to this day.

“The reflection we have for ourselves is part of what makes us beautiful. ”

Describe a time in your life when you felt betrayed. What did you do? How did you feel?

“I uncover a new inner beauty in forgiveness .”

Feeling betrayed can be short-lived, and you can make sure it’s temporary by choosing to make it so. But don’t discount the fact betrayal contains a strong sense of loss. Before you can let it go, you will need time to grieve. To do so, embark on the following:

Work on moving past your own barriers with a trusted mentor or coach.

Keep a strong focus on your personal health and well-being.

Decide if your relationship is worth continuing despite the betrayal.

Connect and express with “I” statements reflecting objectively what you need the other person to understand. (If you are unable to communicate, try to write a letter and/or get your grief under control via a journal and/or a forgiveness letter to move past your hurt.)