by c.a.w.
Life growing up was never easy for me. Maybe it was my sensitive temperament. I was shy, and a bit of a tomboy. Consequently, I was never popular in school.
It was hard, but at least I had my family to turn to, right? I always had my brother to play with, and on occasion, my cousins too. But eventually
things turned sour.
Occasional arguments between my parents turned into late night screaming matches. And I cried at night, trying hard to pretend I was asleep.
My father was not the perfect husband. He was often harsh and critical of my mother. She would say it was verbal abuse. Perhaps it was. But my mother was
not perfect either. She responded to my fathers criticism by seeking comfort in another man. While I was too young to know about sex and affairs, I
knew something felt wrong when he was around. My mom claims to this day that he was just a friend back then. But do you really need to kiss or have
sex to have a emotional affair?
My parents separated on my 9th birthday. I’m not sure it really sank in right away. My dad offered to go to counseling, but my mom felt it was useless
or too late. They fought like cats and dogs every time they see each other. They would constantly bad mouth each other in front of me and my brother.
Finally a couple years passed and the divorce was finalized. My mother was free to marry the man she had befriended. On the surface I tried to be happy
for her. I longed to live in a house again and have some stability.
But deep down inside, I hurt, and I hurt badly. But I was good at hiding the hurt. I was secretly depressed. Now, things were not good at school or at
home. I tried to stay positive, but quite frequently I wished I’d die. My step father was no parent. He would occasionally make sexual innuendos at
me. I was scared to shower when it was just me and him in the house. I would often hide in my bedroom, the basement, or ride my bike for hours. My
brother had moved back with my father. We would see each other on the weekly visits, but things began to change with us as well.
I felt like a only child. I would get offended when people mistakenly or purposely called me by my step father’s last name. You see, my maiden name was
the only thing left I had to cling to of my parents marriage, and I wasn’t giving it up for THAT last name.
I prayed and prayed that the Lord would save me from this pain. He did answer my prayer, but the healing took a long long time. I am grown up now, married
with a family. I still get occasional boughts of depression, due largely from the insecurities I developed growing up.
My mother is divorced again, my father eventually remarried. My parents “get along” now when they see each other at family functions. But still, I admit,
I sometimes resent the fact that, while both sets of my grandparents had been married for 50+ years, neither sets of my kids’ grandparents are still
together. My husband’s parents are divorced too. Its definitely a game changer. I looked up to my grandparents marriages. Who will my kids look up
to? Yes the sun has set on my parent’s marriage, and I have accepted that it will never be repaired. And while the wounds of my past are not fresh,
I know the scars are still there. They will always be there. Kids may move “past it”, but they do not get “over it”. It molds us to who we are, and
its not always for the better.
Remember this when you choose divorce over reconciliation.
