And more specifically, how much do you feel that the divorce affected you based on your age at the time it happened (i.e., if you were 12, perhaps it affected you more (or less?) than if you were 18).
Lastly, how much did the divorce surprise (or not surprise) you at the time it happened, and how much in hindsight did that original surprise (or lack thereof) change?
8 when they separated, 14 when the divorce became final. Between those times, a whole lot of Sturm and Drang, false accusations, nastiness about money, affairs, using the 5 kids as weapons and tools against each other and against each parent, pulling in other family members, triangulation, manipulation, threats, physical harm, petty crime, and emotional/verbal abuse.
I’m sorry, what was the question again?
I was completely devastated by the separation, but by the time the divorce was final, I was too cynical to care. I have no idea to this day why it took 6 years (although this was before no fault divorce), all I know is that it colored my childhood much more than my sibliings. It sort of WAS my childhood, really. Before age 8-sentimentalized, nostalgic bliss (in my very rose colored memory), after age 8, not enough food or no food in the house, weeping, drinking, shouting, physical fights, thievery, you name it.
I felt the ramification of all this for many years, and still feel it somewhat today. I am adult enough to realize that past events don’t have to dictate future paths, but there is a small part of me that will not trust, does not trust.
Looking back, it is obvious that divorce was the answer. To that, all I can say is that when I was 21, my parents re-marrried–each other. They haven’t learned much by the lesson.
I hope this answers the question.
I was 18. The split meant nothing to me except that I could have a place to smoke pot at (my dad’s house) and not get yelled at. My parents still lived within a half mile of each other and I still saw them all the time. It was kind of weird seeing my dad go through a seemingly endless procession of hot women half his age after being married to my mom for 25 years, although my friends all thought he was the most badass dad of all time. To this day my parents are on very good terms, and live much happier lives.
Mine never divorced, but they separated for several years when I was in high school and shortly after.
This was dad revealed that he was gay, or at least bi. They ended up back together, because of a deep and true love for each other, but my years between the age of 17 to 21 were odd. I lived with Dad summers, Mom during most of the year, working for Dad’s company and several other jobs.
Their marraige definitely changed. When they got back together, there was no more pretending. And the roles were much more even.
You have to realise that we were a somewhat fundementalist (but not fundie) Christian family in Texas in the 60s and 70s with all that implies. The gay Dad/Husband thing was quite the scandal for a while. But, everything got better. Never anywhere close to the same, mind you, but that was for the better, too.
However, for a time, I was a freak, in every sense of the word. I grew out of that, and learned a whole lot of things bout how the real world works.
5-6ish is when my parents got divorced, 12ish is when my dad and 1st stepmom got divorced, and then 19ish is when my dad got divorced from my 2nd stepmom. As for the damage compared to the age I would say that 12ish was the worst at the time but the 5-6ish has had the longer term damage. The last time didn’t bother me at all. When I was 5 or 6ish I did not really have the same kind of understanding about my relationship with my parents, and didn’t REALLY understand what was happening between them at the time. When I was 12, I had a much more “real” relationship with my stepmom because I had grown to value her as a person. Looking back she was more of a parent in the 4 or 5 years that she was married to my dad than either one of my actual parents. Which was why I was not really surprised when she took off. She REALLY tried to make our completely screwed up family work and because my dad was pretty worthless at the time parenting wise she just gave up. Can’t say as I blame her at all. The last time my dad got divorced didn’t bother me at all because that stepmom was just a psycho beeyotch. I told him (as I was moving out of the house at 17 because of the insanity and double standards between her “perfect” kids and his kids) that she was totally bad for him and blah blah blah. Totally not a surprise when it ended. As I have grown up and talked to all the family involved and all that fun stuff I haven’t really learned anything that made me surprised or changed how I percieved any of the divorces. The only thing that surprises me is how stuff that happened 20+ years ago can hold a person in its grip.
My parents were divorced twice: once in 1953 when I was five years old, the second time in 1966 when I was eighteen. In between, they got back together and had two more kids.
When I was five, the divorce upset me a lot. I wanted to live with my father, but custody was given to my mother. The divorce did bring peace and stability to my life, since I had grown up being forced to listen to screaming, hateful exchanges for hours on end. I didn’t want my parents to split up. God, no. I just wanted them to stop fighting. Living with my mom and seeing my dad only on weekends was better than living with the two of them in a battleground.
That first divorce lasted only a year. They moved in together and resumed the nightly fights. When I was eighteen, my parents divorced again, but it didn’t affect my living circumstances, since I had quit college and gotten a job and an apartment. My young brother and sister were quite disturbed by the divorce, and my brother ran away from home several times. By that time, I had distanced myself emotionally from my parents, and the divorce had little emotional impact on me.
I was six when they divorced. I never saw it coming, but then again I was six. I don’t remember them ever fighting (even after they split).
My biggest thought when they told me was that my family wasn’t going to be like all my friends’. I think that “less than perfect” feeling affected me for many, many years.
Mine never divorced, either. I escaped first, when I was 17. The same year, my mother took the kids and the dog and escaped as well, and neither she nor I ever spoke to my father again, right up until their deaths. I felt it was the best thing that could have happened to us. It should have happened five years sooner. I never wanted anything from my father except to get away from him, permanently, and I did, at the first opportunity.
My brothers and sister had a very hard time dealing with the fact that he was a totally worthless human being, and it continues to affect them. I knew it long before they did, and they didn’t have to bear the brunt of his abuse like I did. My mother never had another adult love relationship for the rest of her life. That’s how much damage he did to us.
I was surprised at the time they split up, because I had no idea it was coming. I didn’t live there when it came to a head. It was bound to happen, though, because if you live with a sadistic, abusive alcoholic, there is only so much you can take, and then you can’t take anymore, and you have to do something. I suffered for a long time, recovering from my childhood, but I’m all right now. My experiences made me who I am, but I decided to be the one to break the chain. I am not like him, and I can never let myself be like him. I’m the only person in the family to have a successful, loving marriage. The others haven’t been so lucky.
I don’t know when mom’s divorce from my dad was final, but mom was with my stepdad from when I was about five or six. My dad was in the Air Force (WWII) and I have very few memories of him.
The effect of the divorce was that I had something to blame for the bad parts of my childhood. If mom hadn’t divorced my dad, things would have been better.
I don’t want to hijack this, really, but reading these stories is exactly why I feel the need to continue in a less-than-perfect relationship for the sake of an 8 and 9 year old. My personal decisions right now could affect the lives of 2 other humans forever. I think I’ll take my lumps and persever. (There’s no fighting or anything, just not much of anything really.)
When I was 12, my dad came into some money. He was about 40 then, it was 1980. He got a curly perm a la Tony Geary of General Hospital, bought 3 Cadillacs, and got an 18 year-old girlfriend. He and my mom split up, he and the girlfriend split up, and he took off to Alaska to work on the pipeline for a couple of years. In the meantime, my mom had moved us across the country to be near her parents. In 1982 he came back and they got remarried and they’re still together to this day.
Heartwarming story, I’m sure, unless you knew beforehand that he was an extremely abusive man, that last breakup with him was her 8th or 9th time leaving, the divorce was precipitated by him brandishing a handgun at her, and that she has now wasted 40 years on this piece of shit. To most children of divorce, a reconciliation is their greatest wish. To me, not so much.
I was 5 when my parents split up. They were very civil about it; there was no screaming/shouting matches, no flying dinnerwear, etc.
I was more confused than anything.
Because it was a very civil divorce, there was none of this “your weekend/my weekend” bullshit. They both stayed in the same town, so no cross-country trips to see Dad.
It might be one of those few cases where it was actually better off with the parents divorced, but still fairly amiable towards one another, than together and miserable (or worse!).
Around thirteenish, and my dad ended up moving to Thurso, the nearest real town to John O’Groats. Talk about needing some space…
I think my mum and dad seperated when I was around 4.
In later years (preteen) I blamed our basic living conditions and our problems on that seperation.
But now I think both my mum and Dad ended up with the right people for them… and they ended up better off than they might have if they stayed together
separated at 13, divorced at 18ish.
Actually the best thing for them. They were very civil the whole time, and it made them stop fighting. My grades also started to improve because I didn’t have the yelling. Then Mom’s boyfriend moved in. It went back downhill somewhat. It wasn’t until I was 18 that I saw what a good influence my father was on my life.
I was only 6 weeks old when my mom and dad divorced. I didn’t meet him until I was 27 years old. He’s ok, I guess. It’s not the same as having a ‘real’ dad that you’ve known and loved all your life. He’s got his own family and I’m probably not high on his list of priorities. I survived just fine, until my mom remarried when I was 6 years old.
This one was a bad one. He was an alcoholic and very abusive to her and us kids. She divorced him when I was 16 years old.
Step-dad died a couple of years ago. I’m glad he’s dead and I wish he’d have suffered MUCH more than he did. My only regret, is that he was cremated, and his ashes scattered…and I never got the chance to piss on his grave.
Life is SO unfair, damnit!
I was 13, almost 14. The biggest bummer was that it was December, right before Christmas. Apparently my younger sister knew before I did. My parents didn’t speak civilly to each other until in the waiting room of the hospital awaiting the birth of my oldest daughter, some 7 years later. To this day I have to decide which of them to invite to my house for any given occasion, as my mom refuses to come if my dad will be there. My dad, to his credit, seems to have moved on.
I was about five. I really don’t remember much before that, and afterward, I had a mom, a brother, a grandma, a grandpa, a cat, a dog…if I missed Dad, I don’t remember it. For a few years, he came around every once in a while and took us to the beach. He disappeared when I was about nine, but sent me a doll on my fourteenth birthday. I sent a graduation announcement to his last known address when I finished high school, but it was returned. No tragedy.
The real horror began when Mom remarried…
I was 4 when my parents divorced in 1965. My father did try to get custody of me, which was unsuccessful. He then decided he “couldn’t be a part-time parent” so I haven’t seen him since I was 8 or heard from him since I was 17. I did get a nice card from my two half-brothers when my mother passed away in 1988. I have no idea if my dad is still alive or not, and really don’t care.
I was 7 when they separated, 9 when they divorced. Today, at 44, I believe a big part of the divorce was that it was a trendy thing for women to do - to find themselves. What she found, I can’t say for certain. Not love or enlightenment, that’ s for sure. My mom had custody, but I remember that she was slow in taking it. She moved back to the city to set up a home and job and was “too sick” to come home for weekends for several weeks. I am a 44 year old wife and mother now and I still blame her for not trying hard enough as a wife and mother.
Not that my dad is any prize.