I was seventeen when my parent’s divorce was finalized. By then I was out of the house and living in Germany as a foreign exchange student. I remember my attitude at the time was “FINALLY!!!”
If only they’d done it sooner.
I was 11, my brother 7.
Mostly I remember being bitter and angry at him and for leaving me in the position of trying to be responsible (Mom was very depressed and my brother acted out) which was only compounded by my Dad telling me I needed to be kinder to my brother because he was young and didn’t understand. He understood his Dad wasn’t around and his mother and sister couldn’t control him. I understood he was (and is) my Dad’s favourite though he does his best to not treat us especially different.
Now I’m not so bitter and angry towards him, having worked through a lot on my own and am mostly indifferent to the past. I look at it as it is past, I can’t get worked up about it and let it ruin my life I have to go onward from here. It took a long time for me to get to this place, though my Dad still seems hung up on things. I now understand more of his perspective and a little less of the rose glasses from my Mom’s. I also know we will never see eye to eye on certain things and it’s probably for the best he moved out because I would’ve ended up even more of an introverted and resentful child under his thumb. 2 weeks in his presence and I go crazy.
My roommates parents seperated just before I moved out. He was 30 and it hit him real hard. Was a shock to him I guess.
I was 27. It was this past November. They’d been separated for four years at that point, miserable for about 15 years. I really really wish they’d split up years before they did. My dad fought the divorce every step of the way and made my mom’s life miserable, and while he was a horrible person to live with and not much of a father, I didn’t lose all respect for him until after the split when he showed his true colors. I’m now trying to decide whether or not to invite him to my wedding - and he’s certainly not going to be walking me down any aisle. My sister’s also engaged and going through the same process. Luckily, since the divorce my parents have had a somewhat more amicable relationship (he’s just now getting a whole lot of his stuff out of my mom’s house/yard/garage), but I really have no desire to spend time with him. It’s just too difficult.
My mother and father seperated when I was 11, after years of utterly dead dinner table silence which succeeded verbal abuse on both parties and dramatic overreacting and multiple scarcely concealed affairs by my mother. I have no idea when they divorced, as no one informed me about anything, and I was 17 by the time I saw the divorce agreement, which laid out a whole load of conditions about my support and custody that no party really adhered to. All I knew was that I came home one day and some pieces of furniture were missing, about which my mother was equivocal; I actually learned that he’d for-real left by the taunting of other children in subsequent days. After a few weeks my father picked me up for a weekend that I mostly spent in his apartment eating ice cream and reading library books. After that I had intermittent contact with him, and endured by mother’s mecurial behavior and desperate string of increasingly feckless guys who I typically met in the hallway late at night while walking to the bathroom. After a few abortive attempts at establishing alternate residence I got out of there as quickly as I was able, lived with my father and his wife for a few months until her particular flavor of scraming, shouting, and shoving became intolerable, and finished out high school on my own.
I haven’t seen or talked to the maternal unit in almost two decades, save for the phone call where she essentially accused me of being responsible for her mother’s cancer, and berated me for not attending the funeral the next morning despite the fact that I was over a thousand miles away and had no prior knowledge of illness or death. I speak with my father two or three times a year, and bite my tongue whenever he starts mooning nostalgically about my great childhood or talks about his wife. (He used to ask me to apologize to her, although for what he couldn’t explain, but seems to have finally glommed on to the fact that I’m not going to be her pinata anymore. He’s still a total doormat–hence my lack of interest in fostering any significant relationship with him–but that’s his problem.)
And yeah, I have problems with women, relationships, trust, et cetera; bascially the whole gamut of bad-childhood-related-issues, plus not being all that great at relating to people in the first place. I’m also kind of pissed about the liquidation of college funds and outright theft of savings by one and another, but that’s another story.
Stranger
I was about 18, my brother roughly 15. We both handled it well–mostly because the split wasn’t acrimonious at all, just a quiet, smooth transition. Dad still comes over for regular visits and lives a short 10-minute walk away, so we don’t miss him at all.
It didn’t surprise us; Mum and Dad had been disagreeing for some time before the decision was made. Mostly I just felt relief–they were both doing the smart thing to do, and coming out much happier. I definitely think a big part of handling it better was our ages–we were able to understand what was going on and why it was necessary.
My parents divorced when I was 2 and my sister was 4. Mom moved out of state with us, which apparently voided any child support agreement. She never said bad things about our father, or really much of anything at all, until we were in our late teens. At that time my sister was developing an alcohol problem and Mom discussed alcoholism and heredity with us, and how because of family history we should be very careful not to risk becoming dependent on alcohol or drugs… That’s when we found out our father was an alcoholic who would take an occasional swing at our mother. We don’t remember a thing about the divorce. Our earliest memories are about Mom and her mother and father, whom we lived with after the split.
Our father contacted us once in the years that followed. I must have been around 9. I went to work with my grandmother and he came by and took me for a ride in his red convertible ‘Vette. I didn’t know who he was at first, but grandma told me it was okay to go. He didn’t make much conversation, as I recall. It looked to me like he just wanted to show off, but I may be prejudiced.
Mom remarried when I was 4 or 5. The new husband was accidentally shot and killed by a buddy at a target range a year or so later. Since he molested my sister, I say no big loss.
Mom tried the marriage trail again a couple of years later. Yeah, she married a child molester again. Mom’s a really good person, she was just abysmally naïve and, I believe, really afraid to be alone. She’s much less naïve now, but I think no less afraid to be alone. I’ve worked through my issues about her not protecting us. I’m not so sure about my sister.
Step-father is currently dying of advanced COPD/emphysema and has developed some massive mental issues and I can’t say that my sister or I have any sympathy for his plight. We worry about Mom though, since she feels responsible for him (his family won’t have much to do with him) and she won’t bail. Mom can’t seem to work up a decent sympathy face for him either.
Anyway, I think Mom did the right thing initially, when she divorced our father. After that, though…
My own divorce was final this month after a year and a half of separation. My children are 7 and 14. When we first split, the children’s father would make negative comments about me to the children and would use them as messengers or if he wanted to change plans he would tell the children before he told me. I congratulate myself that I didn’t do those things, as hard as it was sometimes.
Since about a year ago we have been doing all the right things, according to the state-run “families of divorce” program. We’ve worked our issues out and can now have actual conversations, just shootin’ the breeze kind of talks, even in the presence of his girlfriend. Lots more comfortable for all.
I have talked with my children about how they feel about it. My 14 year old says she saw it coming a couple of years out and it was a relief when the other shoe finally dropped. She says she’s glad that we’ve handled it like we have; no big fights, custody or support battles, etc. My 7 year old parrots her sister, which makes it appear she doesn’t have much of an opinion on it. Maybe I’ll get more info when she is older and better able to put her feeling into words.
When is divorce okay when you have children? For me it was when I started hating my husband, looking at him with bitter eyes, wondering why he couldn’t just get a goddamn job and quit buying stupid shit, like motorcycles, horses, and boats, that I’ll end up having to pay for? How on God’s jolly green earth did he feel okay about sitting on his ass playing MechWarrior all frickin’ day while I was at work, then bitching about the house being messy? It was like having a teenage son who wanted to sleep with me. Eewww.
Since we separated, I don’t feel so responsible for him and have put away most of the resentment. And since the divorce was final, I feel lighter. About 160 pounds lighter, in fact.
This is probably way too much information, but since I’ve already typed this much out, I’m posting the damn thing anyway.
Age 4.
I never heard my mother utter a bad word about the man. She let us find out on our own, and make our own judgments.
Furthermore after he had a stroke and his quality of life went down she would always have one of us (my 3 siblings and me) go and get him on holidays (2 - 3 hour drive).
When he became bedridden she had him moved to the hospital in our town so he could be with family on his final days.
My mother is a saint.
Thanks. I did tell my mother, when I heard the news of their getting back together, that she was on her own this time. To her credit, she has never tried to give me marital advice.
What is weird as hell is that they both pretend that those 12+ years didn’t happen. They never refer to their divorce, his subsequent remarriage to someone who not only resembled my mother physically, but shared the same profession (nurse), and then that divorce… That lasted 2 years (the stepbrothers and sister were…interesting, but they were all away at college–I am the youngest).
Do I wish it had turned out differently? Of course. But to do that, my parents would have to be very different people; not the narcissistic, selfish, emotionally immature folks that they are. They do have good qualities, and I do have much to be grateful for, but if I do see them clearly, if a bit bitterly.
But as a child of divorce, I so wanted my own marriage to be different. It has not turned out to be so–I doubt we’ll be together much longer. Done the counselling thing (he went twice–I mean to two sessions-- I continued for 3 years) etc. But he (husband) comes from massive dysfunctionality, too. Alcoholism, denial, emotional abuse etc.
Sometimes I wonder if there really is such a thing as a healthy family.
I dunno,** WhyNot**–you get to a point where you say, when is it my turn? When do I get to laugh and love and enjoy a relationship? I think if I found myself resenting my kids for keeping me in a stagnant relationship, then would be the time to end it. I am not there yet, but I can see it on the horizon (the ending, not the resentment). To live a loveless life is no picnic. To not be able to share the small things that make up our days is not a small thing…
sorry if this was a hijack. Reading all these posts–it’s a wonder we any of us turn out to be productive citizens, good mothers and fathers etc. <need shaking head emoticon here>
I think we all learn by example. If we have wonderful parents and a warm, friendly family, we want to continue that in our adulthood by being just like them. If we had the opposite, we learn early on that we don’t want it to be like that when we grow up. I know there’s that statistic about how many people from dysfunctional homes grow up to repeat the pattern, but some of us have to learn not to be like the people we come from. It’s our only option, because we’ve seen what more of the same is like. Does that make sense?
I was three, my sister was 6. I had no indication it was going to happen. I am certain it affected my sister more than me.
That is one of the nicest break up and make up stories I’ve ever heard.
I was 7 when my parents divorced, my sister was 3. I was floored by it, my parents never fought, and we seemed to be the perfect family through my eyes. The day we moved out of my Dads house, we moved in with M, who Mom later married. M’s ex-wife, N, moved in with and married my Dad. Yes, they swapped spouses. Dad’s second marriage only lasted a couple of years, and by the time I was 13, he was on to wife #3. He is still married to her 20 years later, and they have 2 boys. Mom’s marriage lasted a bit longer, but only because she put up with years of his affairs…“for the kids.” She also had 2 boys with M. She is now happily single.
My parents have never said a bad word to my sister or I about each other. I joke that they should write a book about the “right way” to get divorced. They have always lived in the same town, and Dad even picks Mom’s boys up to take them hunting or fishing with him.
I got married very young, swearing I would never consider divorce, which seems strange to me, given it wasn’t at all a bad thing in my life. After 15 years, I am close to the end of my rope. My husband and I don’t fight, but we don’t have many good times anymore either. He hasn’t worked in almost 2 years, spends his days with other unemployed buddies at the bar, and doesn’t do much of anything to help with housework or yardwork. I have felt pretty much indifferent about the fact that he’s here at all for a long time, but lately I find myself realy disliking the sight of him, or the sound of his voice. I’m not sure a divorce would be worse for my kids than continuing to live like this. Kids aren’t dumb. I think their parents being happy (or at least 1 parent being happy) would be smarter than teaching them to stay in an unhappy marriage. If I knew that I could have the kind of relationship with my husband as my parents have post-divorce, I’d be gone tomorrow.
My parents divorced when I was twelve, my middle sister was nine, and my youngest sister and brother were six (twins). I really don’t think we felt much at all, other than relief. My dad used to regularly beat the living shit out my mom…anyone remember the commercial that featured a little boy sitting on the stairs, listening to his parents screaming and his dad hitting his mom? Every time I heard that commercial I dove for the remote because it scared me. I was at least thirty when it came out.
Jesus, Susie. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
It was pretty hard, but I just felt bad for my mom! 
They married and had kids at a very young age, and I’m glad she left when she did. She grew up to be a strong woman, and my dad (after many years) ended up being a decent human being. I think that commercial showed me that I some repressed trauma, though.
I was 14 when it happened. It was a bit of a surprise, only because I didn’t really notice any changes in their behaviour in the months leading to it. They were constantly at each other’s throats, but that was pretty much standard operating procedure for as long as I can remember.
When they told me they were separating, my first thought was “it’s about fuckin’ time.” By that time I had come to realise that it WASN’T normal for kids to regularly wake up in the morning to the sound of their parents screaming at each other.
After they separated, everybody was a lot happier. My parents decided to remain friends, which in hindsight I’m extremely thankful for. They couldn’t have avoided interacting with each other completely, because they both had an interest in ensuring us kids were being brought up properly, so I’m glad they could discuss things amicably.
To parents who want to stay together “for the kids”: do make an effort to repair your relationship, but please know when to cut your losses. Kids are far better off being raised by two separate but happy people than by two people in a relationship who hate each other’s guts.
Before I was born. They were high school sweethearts, married for a couple of three years. He ran around on her all the time. She thought that having a baby would calm him down. She was wrong, so she divorced him and moved in with her parents. We lived in my grandparents house until I was 15. Being a grown man now, I know that my mother made some bad decisions and generally suffered from low self-esteem, but she always did right by me and I respect and love her. My father, however, sired a large number of children with a large number of other women, none of which he ever took responsibility for. He’s a sociopath, and I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, nor do I care.
REading the thread, I’ve got the record for the earliest divorce. What do I win?
- Once mum signs the papers. They’ve been separated for six years, which I saw coming but still… it was really no fun and kind of rocked my security in my marriage for a while. Then, last month dad sent me an email to let me know he was divorcing her to be with the woman he cheated on mum with - who was apparently taking him back after finding out he cheated on her with woman number three. I had to inform mum to expect divorce papers because the gutless bastard couldn’t be bothered telling her himself. As of now, I am not in contact with him, although I tried really hard to be forgiving and accepting after he cheated on/walked out on mum. He’s just a taker, and totally self-centred. I really want my dad back, not that SOB.
I was 9. My brother was 7, my sister was 4.
Me: I took it standing up. I really felt the need to keep the peace, hold down the family, try to keep everyone friendly. I watched the kids, I learned to cook, I started bringing in babysitting money…I basically decided to try to grow up as fast as possible. Being angry really wasn’t an option, it would have been as insane to me as being angry that the sky was blue or the grass green. I watched my mom remarry and thought it was all a sham–she’d never been long without a boyfriend, and I figured it was all for money. My dad had a hard time of it, but he was always more present in my life then most “married dads” were in their kids’ lives. It was his passion, getting to spend time with us.
It didn’t affect me badly until college, when I tried to start having my own relationships. I became both resentful that I’d been the responsible one and angry at myself for the fact that I hadn’t always been able to hold it all together. When I had graduated from high school, I had run out of the gym and had to decide “which family” to go be with first. I felt like marriage was useless, at best a financial compact, to give the woman a leg up in the world that wouldn’t pay her enough, and to give the man someone to control. Eventually I got over it (my guy isn’t like that at all) and am happily married now, at 25.
My brother: He was the silent, angry type. It would explode every now and then, his long-seething anger about his “broken home” and the stepdad he had never asked for but now had to live with. He spent high school as the kind of smart-but-lazy outcast kid who didn’t have many friends and worked on junk cars in the back yard a lot. Some saw him as the bomb-threat kind of kid, I’m sure, but there was never any danger there. He was suffering.
He joined the army right out of high school (summer 2001), in his opinion, because he had let his smarts languish and earned crap grades in high school. He couldn’t see himself in college, though the rest of us knew there was a place for him there. He got sent to the Middle East when the war broke out, but he made tons of friends in the Army. He went from having complete social anxiety and fear (as in, he didn’t make eye contact, ever) to being the center of attention, a class-clown type. He was very popular but left when his three years were up. He went to college to get an engineering degree, is President of the surveying society, and married his first girlfriend last summer. (Kind of his life story, but I think it’s all divorce-relevant.)
My sister: Being so young, she didn’t understand. She spent years crying about mom and dad getting back together, something my brother and I knew wasn’t happening and didn’t want to see anyway. She became the ultimate “Daddy’s Little Girl” type upon realizing that Dad would do anything for her. Anything. I’m sure she’s been making him feel guilty over the divorce for years, because she’s 21 and he’s still bailing out every time she gets fired from some crap job. Her relationship with Mom is even weirder. They talk about everything and get along great 50% of the time, but the other 50% they’re not speaking because my mom is pretty flaky and always chooses her husband over everyone else. And my sister calls her on it, and my mom gets defensive, and they eventually make up when one of them is in the hospital or something…rinse and repeat.
I think my sister’s the only one who never got over it.
Mine divorced when I was seven, my wife’s when she was five. At 27 it really feels like we are the norm, having grown up with separated parents.