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...And now we're at the ''what next?" stage of life. Fun.
I'm the oldest sibling in my family, and I've been praying for my parents' divorce on-and-off since I was around seven years old. They separated in my sophomore year of high school.
For context:
Dad's had an issue with alcohol long before my parents married, but he's gone through phases where he's promised that this time, he'd quit, honest. As a drunk, he ranged from emotional, to violent, to emotionally abusive and loud. Mom also has her own demons, and long story short, they butted heads like no other at times.
To sum up, it was nearly two decades' worth of what, from my non-professional-but-very-personal opinion, was an unhappy marriage.
My childhood had me knowing what discretion was early on; if someone asked how my weekend was at school, I'd say "fine", even if Saturday had me quietly watching a movie with my little brother, with my parents' angry voices in the background. I was praying for a divorce after one of the more vicious shouting matches, and he started to get more violent towards her. I liked reading, becasuse I could pretend I was far, far away from the living room that reeked of alcohol from when Dad slept on the couch. I liked playing at the park for much the same reasons; if Dad was playing soccer with us, he wasn't finishing off a beer, and even if he wasn't with us, I could pretend that we weren't going to return to a cold war back home.
As I got older, however, things escalated. The recession hit, and Dad's bad habits worsened. Our family's finances were in a bad place, and my parents severely disagreed on a number of things. Mom got more snappish on her end, meanwhile Dad became more unpredictable. At times we didn't quite feel safe under the same roof as him; for example, in middle school, Mom, my little brother, and I walked out and didn't return until long after sundown, when we were sure that he was asleep. After the first time, I got into the habit of carrying a purse. Today, it's a bit of a joke, what I carry in it [nowadays, it's true that I carry duct tape with me partly for the faces I get when I pull it out], but then, I was afraid that this time might be the time that we don't go back, that we have to hide because of the pervasive fear, of 'this time Dad might want to take my brother and I to go with his parents, so I have to be ready to grab him and run'.
We moved to a different town, and things were better, for a while. Dad eased off the drink for a few years, Mom relaxed a bit, and my brother and I went to school and pretended we were normal, and didn't keep an ear out for when people's voices took on that tone, the one that precluded violence and anger. They were more civil in general.
Then, of course, things got back to normal, and they started fighting again.
To sum up several months' worth of increasing tension, Mom, my little brother, and I came back one Saturday after mass during my sophomore year of high school to his tossing Mom's things to the yard. Despite his state of inebriation, he managed to toss out a mattress with realtive ease, among other things. A short but violent spat later, which included but was not limited to quite a lot of yelling, and we got back in the car with what we could carry. Dad had said my brother and I were welcome to stay; we declined.
We spent the night at a friend's house, moved to a motorhome the day after that, and have never spent a night under the same roof as Dad ever since. My prayers were finally answered; the divorce papers were signed not too long later, and we all lived Happily Ever After.
Which, of couse, led to the awkwardness. Because ever since the divorce papers were signed, Dad's been trying to make amends, while Mom's perfectly happy with not looking back. My brother is only gradually warming up to him again, and I'm trying my best to just be neutral.
Mom refuses to talk to Dad unless absolutely necessary? I'm the messenger, relaying questions and answers. My brother tries to give him the cold shoulder, or is genuinely too busy with his homework during the weekend but Dad doesn't see it that way? I'm there, trying to keep the conversation flowing as easily as possible. I'm Swtizerland, trying to not be too biased in form or another, and trying not to fall apart in the interim. I'm far, far happier now that I was as a kid, but trying to act as though nothing fazes me is harder than it sounds.
And then there's relationships to consider. I honestly don't care about anything other than my little brother's and my respective parents' happiness when it comes to finding another Significant Other, but that still doesn't mean it's not awkward as all-get-out to try to be polite and cordial to your father's girlfriend, or her kids. High school drama was literally a joke compared to our situation.
I'm now in college, and don't see my family too often, and I'll admit that it helps, but thanks to the Internet and social media, they don't feel too far away, which I'm not sure is a good or bad thing.
To sum up: No complaints about the divorce apart from how effin' long it took, but I woudn't complain if I had less drama and awkwardness to deal with. We've been dysfunctional as long as we've been a family, but we make it look good. [Both literally and figuratively.]
