It’s been almost a year since my parent’s broke my heart.
Yep, I said it.
The two people, who I thought would never hurt me, left a gaping hole.
Divorce doesn’t kill it’s victims, no, it’s much more cruel. It tarnishes every memory, leaving you guessing if what you believed, what you saw, was even real. Every kiss, hug, “I love you” spoken between them is now a question mark.
Uncertainty clouds every memory.
I have a lot of question marks in my memories now. My memories look like swiss cheese. Even my future memories, the moments I hoped for. When I married, I longed for the days when the 6 of us would spend holidays together.
Apparently, my parents have had issues ever since I was a baby (insert massive question mark spanning most of my life). Sometimes I wish they divorced before my childhood happened. I wouldn’t be haunted by doubt. A child should never doubt the love between their parents.
I know this sounds idealistic. I know many people out there never witnessed love between their parents. I know I should count myself as lucky for having loving parents. I do, please don’t misunderstand me.
My parents’ marriage influenced more than the two of them. They promised us they would never get a divorce. They instructed us on how to avoid divorce and how to have a healthy marriage. How are you supposed to think, when you are taught to honor your marriage vows and to honor each other, and then this happens? I guess I have high expectations of my teachers. I try to be mad and then it hurts to be mad. I try to be happy, but that hurts too. I get caught in the middle and the only thing I can do is cry. No matter what I do or what I think. It just hurts.
No matter how hard I try, I will always be in the middle.
If want to have a relationship with the each of them (Confession: I considered, briefly, divorcing my parents and never talking with them again), I will always be in the middle.
I will always have to choose a side. I can love both equally, spend the same amount of time with each, say the same words (and mean them), but now, one parent always comes before the other.
Now a first and a second. Now a choice.
Both are calling at the same time, this happens more than expected, who’s call do I answer?
I have to make a choice.
Thanksgiving is coming up. Who do I spend it with?
I have to make a choice.
My parents tell me they understand. Loving parents will understand. However, as a child, I have to make a choice every time, and the agony of even having to make a choice at all breaks my heart every time.
I get heartache for choosing to stay, for choosing to love, for choosing to forgive. Divorce sucks.
I know my posts aren’t usually this raw, but pain needs to be felt if you are to ever achieve healing. These feelings have been with me for the last year, and thought there might be others who felt the same way about their situation. For the next month, I will have guest bloggers post about their pain. We are united by our pain. Because of our pain, we have compassion for each other. October is the month of healing and I will post stories of healing as we are only truly healed by love.