The Big D-word
Most of the time, I feel like a pretty damn lucky human. I’ve got every single tangible thing people strive for- a job they love, a warm home, a solid car that runs…
But for the last few years there has continued to be an ugly, nagging little wound that reopens and festers every time I think I might actually be making peace with myself.
Divorce.
There really is no way to describe divorce other then ugly. If parents don’t make this choice without deciding beforehand that the peace of their children is their first priority, it’s inevitable that the children end up suffering- much more then the parent.
In my situation, it’s a constant battle of “what am I in this relationship?”
The parent or the child? The mentor, the counselor, or the role model? The sister or the worried friend? The glue keeping everything together, or the cloth that’s worn too thin?
When can I be the child? The one that needs support, explanation, and consideration?
Divorce doesn’t mean that you get to wipe your slate clean and start over- or at least it shouldn’t. Your children are permanent. It doesn’t matter if they are 2, 16, 23, or 45- they are your children forever.
I am tired. Tired of the battle when new significant others tear apart what threads of a family we have left. Tired of trying to understand when they exclude, insult, and just don’t care.
But mostly, I am tired of being the one to deal.
I am ready to be the child.
