I was 13. My father had spent the summer away working, when he returned home he brought the daughter of the guy he was working for. He was 39, she was 21. He set up a mobile home next the to house for her to live in while she went to a nearby college. My mother found out what was going on a few months later when she caught them screwing around and booted both of them from the property. The local newspaper listed their marriage dissolution and his application for a marriage license on the same day. My mother married a bum, divorce him and seemed to find a bunch of losers to date till she died. My father and his wife are still married but have been living apart for several years.
It makes great sense, as long as it avoids the simplistic and shallow, “you can choose not to do X” premise. It is indeed true that anyone can indeed choose not to do X, but learning by negative example is not a great way to learn anything.
I also still feel that those warm happy families include a great deal of compromise on (hopefully) everyone’s part (but usually one person’s part), and a great deal of work. Not that that isn’t ok, but I tend to disbelieve the ideal family picture that is shown to the world.
Case in point: I have a friend whose mouth hung open when I share stories about my past with her. She couldn’t believe me or a mutual friend when we would tell stories of Drama and emotional immaturity on the part of our parents/extended familiy members. Then she went home for Thanksgiving with her “perfect American family”. That was the holiday she found out her sister had an eating disorder, her uncle had an entire second family, with kids and that he parents were sleeping in separate rooms…
I suppose they do exist, they must exist; just color me dubious. 
My dad was killed before I was one year old.
Mom whent through divorce #1 when I was six, #2 when I was 14, #3 when I was 23.
She then had a live-in that lasted 25 years, until he died.
For some reason, none of it seemed very traumatic, or even interesting to me at the times the various divorces were happening.
I was 23. My sister was 18. We both just mostly thought that it should’ve happened a long time ago. I even TOLD my mom to divorce him. Not that I don’t love him–he was just a complete jerk to her. They’re both a lot happier now.
I was 2 and half weeks when my father walked out and about 3 months when they divorced. Mom was not awarded any child support, because she didn’t want him to have visitation (he was abusive). Mom changed my last name to her maiden name when I was 4 (her name had been changed back with the divorce). I never heard from him: no birthday cards, no phone calls, nothing. Special events would come and go, nothing came from him. I specifically remember HS graduation, which occurred on my 18th birthday. I searched those crowds for anyone who might be him. He wasn’t there. 
Growing up, I always felt like the odd one out. I was born in 73, and in my neighborhood, at that time, it was odd to be the child of a single parent. Now, it’s perfectly normal. I had a bunch of uncles (all on my Mom’s side… I never knew my father’s family, which Mom says is no great loss and the only decent one, his father, passed away right around the time they divorced) so I had positive Male influence. As I got older, I decided I needed to just ask him why he abandoned me and to get medical history from him. First, I said I would do it after I graduated college, then I said I would do it when I got married (the one uncle I have left gave me away); I kept putting it off.
I got an email from a friend shortly after my first wedding anniversary (4 years ago now) telling me he had done a Google search with his name and discovered his death notice. I decided I needed to go to the Memorial to make my peace with him, however I decided it was best to call the church first to let them know I was coming. It’s a good thing I did.
You see, they got me in touch with his widow. His widow was in actuality wife #3… she thought she was wife #2. She knew nothing of him having a child (to my knowledge, I am his only child) and actually hinted that maybe my mother didn’t know who my father was. I told her I would be more than happy to bring the divorce papers and my birth certificate if necessary, she said it wasn’t (I took them anyway… just in case). I informed her that I wasn’t interested in the money; I hadn’t gotten one red cent from him while he was alive (and a lawyer had already informed me I couldn’t contest the will because I was over 18), so why would I want money now. I told her that I would be at the memorial to make my peace, but I needed to know medical information. I could tell she was skeptical, but she gave it to me (I think to shut me up).
I did go to the memorial. The minute she saw me, I think she knew I was his child, 'cause she walked right up to me and said “You have got to be Carmen.” The memorial was nice, and if ever there was a case for Purgatory, it’s my father, 'cause he sounded like he turned into a really nice guy once he moved to his new area.
Part of me still wishes I hadn’t put off meeting him, 'cause he did sound like a person I would like to know. However, part of wonders why, if he was such a good Christian, why he didn’t take care of his unfinished business and find me. Guess I won’t know until I reach the pearly gates myself.
Sorry for the hijack. The moral of the story is: if one of your parents has not been involved in your life, don’t put off finding them to ask those burning questions. Learn from my example and do it NOW.
Mine separated when I was 8 and divorced when I was 9. I think there have been both positive and negative results from the situation. The positive is that I had all kinds of freedom at the age of 9 and 10 years old. Since my dad was so busy trying to keep the household going, I could do whatever I want, stay up as late as I wanted, I had the summer days all to myself, I had freedom. What did I do with it? Pretty much exactly what you’d expect a 10 year old with a lot of freedom to do - generally harmless stuff. The result for me is that by the time all of my friends and classmates got their freedom (mid to late teenage years), I was more calmed down. I didn’t have that freak out when I realized I had freedom at 17 years old because I’d had that freedom since I was 10.
The negative is that I think it seriously affected the way I view relationships and how I deal with interpersonal relationships. As a guy who’s 29 years old, it’s not normal to have not even dated anyone since I was 25. But I did it. Luckily I recently met a girl I’m crazy about who really likes me. The story’s complicated and isn’t really isn’t everything I could want it to be, but I’m glad that I’m able to at least make that move and push through my natural reluctance.
So some good stuff, some bad stuff, and you could rationalize that either one fits into both categories.
My parents divorced when I was ten years old. Basically my father cheated on my mom every opportunity he had. Although it took me years to realize, my mom suffers from depression or Bipolar and is very introverted and I think that may not have helped matters, not that any of those things are her fault. I think the divorce did affect me profoundly in some ways. It is so strange to have someone there your whole life and then suddenly maybe you see them once a month. I would say I’m actually closer to my dad than my mother right now. I used to cry a lot at night because I missed my dad. To give you an example of the feelings of hatred that still abound, my dad has told me he would kill my mother if he felt he could get away with it. And he wouldn’t shoot her, he would strangle the bitch (his words). To make matters worse my sister got pregnant very young (16) and is hooked on drugs, I’ve only seen her a handful of times in three years. I don’t really feel sorry for her anymore though. Past a certain point you have to start taking responsibility for all your mistakes. I think I have become detached to people and their feelings a lot because of this. In general though I am a very friendly person and easygoing.