“Why is this happening?” I thought.
I toss and turn in my bed but I can’t sleep.
“Why do I have to experience divorce for the second time in my life? I already went through this as a child. Why do I have to go through this again? Worse, why do my children have to know this type of pain? I don’t have to wonder what they will feel. I know much of what they will feel.”
My sister calls me.
“Colleen,” she says. “A lot of people would stay married. But you’re smarter than this.”
I know she’s right.
I know what she’s saying.
Divorce may be awful, but unhappily married parents are worse.
People don’t think that. A lot of people believe it’s better to stay married. They think it’s better for the children. They talk themselves into believing lies, and pretend their kids don’t notice their sadness, pain, or discontent.
They call divorce a ‘broken home.’
Ironic really, when the miserably married are the ‘real broken homes.’
Because that is the love that’s no longer working.
Not the people who free themselves, and their children.
I did know better.
I was smart enough to realize my parents were better off divorced. I was happier after they separated. The pain was real. I experienced sadness and grief but it was temporary.
We all were able to move forward.
We were able to have happier, healthier lives.
It’s an aspect of my life.
It doesn’t define me. It shaped me. It’s the path I was intended to take. I’ve never doubted that. I’ve never felt sorry for myself that I was the child of divorce.
On the contrary, in many ways, I believe it made me stronger.
It made me more resilient.
I was better able to meet challenges.
I embraced my youth and the way I was raised. I was proud of my parents for doing what other unhappily married couples couldn’t bring themselves to do. The people who remained together, but who set a bad example of love.
Why then, did I suddenly feel sorry for myself?
I knew the answer.
I didn’t want to repeat history.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t get divorced. Looking back, it’s funny that I made myself this pledge when I didn’t regret who I was, or even the route my parents had traveled.
But I did worry about getting married for this reason.
One divorce seemed like enough for a lifetime.
I told my marriage counselor my feelings. I told him I had let my children down. I was responsible for thrusting this unwanted reality on them. It was because of the choices I had made.
I chose, dated, and married their father.
They didn’t deserve to pay for my poor decisions.
I couldn’t stop beating myself up.
I didn’t want this for them, despite knowing it was better for me as a child. I knew my parents weren’t happy, even when things appeared okay. There didn’t have to be a disagreement, to understand our reality.
Kids are smart, even 5 year old’s.
I only got smarter during their subsequent reconcilations.
“Colleen,” says my marriage counselor. “You’ve told me you believe everything in your life has happened for a reason. It was your path to take. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is the path your children were intended to take?”
It was therapy mixed with spirituality.
It was what I needed to hear.
It was the bookend to my sister’s comment.
I was smarter than this. I knew I needed to end my marriage. I knew I needed to get out of a bad situation. I knew from my own experience it was the better alternative.
I wouldn’t have chosen this for my kids.
But I was spiritual enough to embrace it.
This was their path and they would be stronger people because of it.
If I remained in an unhealthy and unhappy marriage, it would set a bad example. It would keep them in a home filled with less love than they deserved, and more conflict than they should withstand.
My sudden self-pity wasn’t strictly about my children.
It was about me.
I didn’t want to repeat history.
Kids are resilient and I knew it from experience.
I was smarter than this.
