I remember their loud arguments over the phone, the continuity of being in between their disagreements, and the feeling of having to make decisions, ultimately leading to one parent believing that I favor the other. Growing up, this situation grew into what I considered to be a normality. My parents had divorced when I was just a baby, and I knew of nothing other than the life I was handed: a broken family and parents who couldn’t figure out how to get along if their lives depended on it. Individually, my parents each had their own set of good qualities, but put them in a room together, and there’s nothing but chaos and dysfunction. My childhood was better than many others but far from ideal.Â
I switched back and forth between my parents halfway through the week. On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, it was one parent’s time, and on Thursdays, Fridays, and the remainder of the weekend, it was the others. This schedule was strict, so I missed out on my fair share of events. Not because it had to be, but because they refused to give up any precious time with me if it benefitted the other. It was petty, and the frustration on my end was indescribable. I was traded from one to the other in a convenient store parking lot, and on those days, I was to wear the same clothes so “mom’s clothes” didn’t get mixed up with “dad’s clothes” and vice versa. I lived two separate lives and was expected to act accordingly. If I didn’t, I was told how mean, disrespectful, or resemblant of the other parent I was. In addition, I spent my childhood listening to my parents complain and make jokes about how awful the other was.Â
Kids at school thought that the concept of double holidays and birthdays was miraculous and that it was cool to have a phone of my own in the 5th grade. Back then, I might’ve agreed, but as an adult, I realize that neither of those were privileges, they were masks covering broken truths. The truth being that every holiday and birthday broke out into arguments, and that I wasn’t allowed to speak to one parent during the other’s time with me. Everything about those situations was anything but cool.Â
Although I had experienced the wrath of my parent’s divorce my whole childhood, it never really affected me much. That is, until around the time I reached middle school. By then, I was at the age where my opinions and decisions were shaping into my own, opening the way for inclusion into my parents’ chaos. The weight of their mess built onto my shoulders, and I became resentful. Hurt people, hurt others, and that was exactly my case. I became an unpleasant person to be around, especially toward my stepmom. Others around me had parents happily together, and I wondered why mine couldn’t be the same way. I was angry at the world, overall altering my schooling, relationships, and behavior for a decent chunk of time.Â
Believe it or not, a few good things did come with my parent’s separation. I gained a bonus mom (Wendy), a loving family she brought with her, and a precious little sister I call “Boogie.” As frustrating as the divorce was at times, I wouldn’t trade what I gained for anything. Wendy has been nothing less than extraordinary, even through the stage of my mistreatment towards her. She and her family have taken me in as their own, without ever having to in the first place. As much as I pick on and tease Boogie, I love and adore that girl more than she’ll ever know. In the dark of the divorce, these people were all lights, and I am so incredibly grateful for each and every one of them. I couldn’t imagine life without Wendy, Boogie, and all the others.Â
Over time, I’ve grown, I’ve lived, and I’ve most certainly learned. At the expense of part of my childhood, I gained an understanding of what I want my future children to entail. For my kids, a broken household will never be an option, not because I don’t think a cordial divorce is possible, but because if there is ever any chance of a divorce like my parents, I’ll be damned if I put my kids through it. My kids will never know a life of back and forth. They’ll never see hatred between their parents, and they most certainly will not experience the hurt that comes with having two separate lives.