"When I was five, my dad took off. He rode a motorcycle to live on a commune in Vermont. He left my mom, me, and my newborn sister. My mother was alone with two children, a house, a mortgage, and everything else. And no one talked about it. I don't know how they came up with that plan; I just know he was gone.
I stood at the window in our Philadelphia brownstone and cried "Daddy, don't go, Daddy! Daddy!"
He came back at one point, and then left again. It was a confusing mess of fighting, instability and the unexplained. For a kid, the unknown is a scary thing. Imagination is one of a child's most innate gifts.
It would be over a decade before my parents divorced. They fought over everything from money to custody to my eating habits. Between the ages of five and seventeen, I moved a staggering ten times. I changed schools six times in a decade. A cumbersome custody arrangement meant I was, at an early age, commuting across the city, leaving one home in the morning, going to school, and returning to the other home in the afternoon. And, I did this on my own, on public transit. Sometimes, I had my little sister, although to make things more complicated, we often went to different schools. To call this unstable is, obviously, an understatement.
My parents' anger and inability to come to an agreement was a monster. It was another family member, the angry one, the elephant in the room. A really pissed off elephant that stomped on, crapped on, and rammed everything in sight.
Even more troublesome, my parents' anger and inability to come to an agreement was a monster. It was another family member, the angry one, the elephant in the room. A really pissed off elephant that stomped on, crapped on, and rammed everything in sight.
There was therapy, family, individual, this, that, and the other. There was anger and I took it all on. I took on my mother's anger. I bore the brunt of my father's anger. I was alternately angry and depressed. My younger sister saw what my anger created: more anger, and punishment, so she took the docile route. Neither was healthy and we have both done a lot of work to recover. And, yes, it really sucked. And, I know I am not alone.
This was forty years ago. Divorce was less common, more taboo, and not much was understood or talked about in terms of how to "do it well." Marriage is complicated, un-marrying even more so, there are finances, homes, cars, debt, children, and a lot of anger and hurt feelings. Today, relationship and divorce coaches abound. Then, it was shameful, at least for me. I was the only kid whose parents didn't have family dinner. I was the only kid whose parents couldn't be in the same room without a fight.
I was the only kid whose parents didn't have family dinner. I was the only kid whose parents couldn't be in the same room without a fight.
According to a 2011 report by the Census Bureau, in 1970, when my dad left, the divorce rate was 33%. Today, methods of calculation are more complex. Some say the rate hovers at 50%; others claim rates are lower due to later marriages and other factors. Socioeconomic status plays a role, with those of lower status far more likely to divorce. In my middle class circle, the only statistic I knew was one. Mine. It didn't matter that my parents hadn't made it legal. Divorce was a four-letter word. All my friends' parents were married. As a seven-year-old at a private Quaker school, I was alone.
Four decades later, after therapy and emotional work I see--saw even then--that my parents were more than wrong for each other. They made each other miserable. However, the way they parted created dysfunction and long-lasting damage. We all suffered. My sister and I both worked long and hard to repair self-esteem, fears, anger, and hurt to become functional, emotionally healthy adults.
I used to say I'd never marry. I didn't want to get divorced. And then, I fell deeply in love.
I used to say I'd never marry. I didn't want to get divorced. And then, I fell deeply in love. We wanted the same things. We were ready. And, we got married. I was 33, had an MBA, financial independence, emotional health, and I knew what I wanted in a partner. And, we were married for seventeen years, and we were happy. But we are not now. And, I am going through a divorce.
I used to say I didn't want kids. I love kids but, I didn't want to screw them up. I didn't want them to suffer from low self-esteem, an eating disorder, or depression. I didn't want them to act out by cutting school, self-medicating, or engaging in adult behaviors before they were adults. I did those things and I made it through alive. I worked through and past them. But, it was not easy.
I am now a single mom with two sons, ages nine and twelve, and I am heartbroken. Yet, this is our reality. There is no other way but through and onward. I will make this journey with them, and they will not suffer as I did.
I am now a single mom with two sons, ages nine and twelve, and I am heartbroken. Yet, this is our reality. There is no other way but through and onward. I will make this journey with them, and they will not suffer as I did. They will hurt; children of divorce do. They are already in distress, and it's on me to watch, to listen, and to act. I will be there for them. I will make this work because their emotional well-being and future success, their happiness, is my top priority. As an aside--and it's no small aside, I will be happier. My emotional well-being and future success are also my priority.
It's good to have happy parents. I didn't. I want my children to have that. We won't be married to each other anymore, but we can model happiness.
When my ex and I told them, we had a plan. We committed to share the news from a positive place. They knew something was coming, and the unknown was far worse than the reality.
We told them how much we loved them and cared about each other, how we wanted to live in happy homes. We explained that after thinking and talking about it, "not" being married would make us happier. But, that being their Mom and Dad would always make us happy. My youngest cried and I held him.
They know it's not about them. We shared the details about where their dad was going to be living and they had questions:
"Does Daddy's apartment have a pool?"
"Yes, with fountains."
"Is it bigger than our pool?"
"It is, and it's really close to Mom, and school and all your friends."
"Daddy, will you still come to my baseball games?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course I will."
My oldest blew my mind. "I have to say, I knew it. I mean I could tell and I'm really glad you guys are handling it this way, I mean you're really doing a good job." Who's the adult?
They breathed. They were relieved. My oldest blew my mind.
"I have to say, I knew it. I mean I could tell and I'm really glad you guys are handling it this way, I mean you're really doing a good job."
Who's the adult?
"Thanks, bud, you're handling it pretty well too. It's OK to be sad, and it will be hard sometimes."
"I know, it's just, I've heard stories of parents just abandoning their kids. I have a friend who hasn't seen his dad in seven years."
"We will never do that. We are both here."
We talked about their friends who have two households, in the same neighborhoods; they haven't changed schools, and their lives are stable. We said it would be an adjustment, but that we'd get through it together and eventually we'd be happier.
They immediately started planning our custody agreement. We explained there were grownup things we had to figure out, and in the meantime, we'd be sure they were safe and loved, always loved.
First things first, their dad was moving out.
"Ooh, can we help you?"
"I'd love that."
And we'll continue to do things one day at a time, but after weeks of the unknown, telling them was the first time both boys seemed like themselves again. Not overjoyed, but safe and relaxed.
I am heartbroken that they have to live through a divorce, but they do and they will. I commit to taking care of them every step of the way. And here is my list, my reminder of how I can do that.
No matter how angry or hurt I am, I will never badmouth my ex to my kids. That's for girlfriends, journals, and therapists.
I will take care of myself emotionally any physically. I need to be there for them.
While they are still in school, I will never live more than a short driving distance from my ex.
They will not switch schools or leave their friends.
I will find my new normal, and I will make sure my children have one as well.
I will work to co-parent. They will have a mother and a father who can talk to each other without fighting.
I will not bring a new man into their lives unless and until he is solidly and completely in mine.
I will always be there for them, to listen, to comfort, and to help.
This is new for me too. I'm on a roller coaster, and while the huge swells have passed, for now, I know there are more to come. Seventeen years, two children, three moves--it's a history, a life together. But, I will find my new normal, and I will make sure my children have one as well. We will all have a new normal, with a happy mother, a happy father, and a model of how to handle life challenges with grace, compassion, and caring. I'm human, but I'll do my best.
"Photo--Tony Guyton/Flickr"
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