Lessons From an Adult Child of Divorce

I love serendipity. And, at least today, it must love me back. Just as I was feeling completely overwhelmed with updating the blog, I received an email from Liz with a request to send a guest post. Once she told me the topic, I was sold.

There is no shortage of information and discussion about the effect of divorce on children. But adult children? Not so much. It’s as though we think they are grown and launched and the split does not (or should not) impact them (Just think of how many couples wait to divorce until the children are gone).

But it does.

Liz shares her experience with us to help provide understanding of what it is like when your parents divorce once you are grown.

Lessons From an Adult Child of Divorce

It was the summer of 2013, I was 28 years old and just starting a new career in marketing – and my parents were in the midst of a divorce. Their marriage of thirty years had been slowly dissolving before my eyes for quite some time, but I still couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

Growing up, I had considered myself lucky to live in a two parent home while watching as my friends’ single mothers struggled to balance work, home, and the rigors of parenting. Now I was just another child of divorce – even though I was no longer an actual child.

To make matters even more difficult, I – like many Millennials – was living at home as I couldn’t afford to make ends meet on my own. Helping my mother move out of her home of 20 years and into a small apartment was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. However, it was nothing compared to watching her fall prey to crippling grief.

I Don’t Know How to Feel

It’s hard to truly explain what it feels like to be caught between two parents on opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. Dad had been bottling his negative emotions for years, and the divorce had in essence freed him to pursue happiness. Mom had been blind-sided, thinking that they were just experiencing a rough patch. She still loved my father as much as she ever had and the divorce sent her spiraling into depression.

On one hand, I was happy to see my dad smiling again. He was cheerful and full of life – something that had been missing for so long that I had almost forgotten what it looked like. On the other hand, I was trying to keep my mom from losing herself to hopelessness and sorrow.

The swinging emotions were taking their toll on me – and so were the conversations both parents insisted on dragging me into.

Part of You, Part of Me

Dad told me how he’d grown unhappy ten years into their marriage and had essentially been a prisoner to his sense of honor. He refused to abandon his children and my mother – even if her wild emotions and poor decision making made him crazy.

Mom sobbed on my shoulder, bemoaning the fact that my father had never expressed his feelings and had refused to seek marriage counseling on numerous occasions. In her eyes, he was an emotional tight ass and the whole thing was his fault.

There’s a multitude of resources for parents of small children going through a divorce. I’ve read many of them, and the parallels between the feelings of both young and adult children before, during, and after a divorce are numerous.

Attorney Cheri Hobbs reminds parents, “remember that a child is half of each of you and therefore when you disparage the other parent the child then believes that one-half of them is bad or wrong or negative.”

Listening to my parents complain about each other was like being stuck with a hot poker repeatedly. Much like my mom, I can be overbearing and spend money unwisely. Do my friends feel the same way about me that my father feels about my mother? Do they just not say anything?

I’m a lot like my father in many ways – both good and bad – but I definitely bottle my emotions. Does my mother hate me for this?

To hear them tear each other down was to hear them tear parts of me down. And the worst part of it was that I didn’t do anything to stop it from happening.

Stuck in the Middle

I remember taking a stand pretty early, telling both of them to discuss what business they had with each other and leave me out of it. They agreed, but I don’t think it lasted for more than a couple of weeks. They needed me, and I reneged on my own ultimatum.

“There are few needs more compelling than those of our parents. And parents going through divorce are just like other people going through divorce: they are a bundle of need with little or no regard for boundaries or decorum,” says Lee Borden of DivorceInfo.com.

My father is pretty good at not dragging me into the middle of it, but my mother uses me as a go between, even going so far as to CC me in all emails to my dad. It’s absolutely maddening – like being slapped in the face every time I open my inbox.

The Lessons I’ve Learned

There are lessons to be learned here – on both sides – but as I’ve only experienced divorce from this side of the aisle, I’ll advise those who are like me:

  • If you have siblings, lean on them. I didn’t speak to my older brother much during the divorce process. I felt like he was so far away from the situation that he wouldn’t be much comfort. I regret that now. He was hurting just as much as I was.
  • Tell your parents to leave you out of the fight and stick to it! It will be hard, I know, but your emotional well-being depends on it.
  • Encourage your parents to seek counseling. My mother still has a tough time with the end of her marriage, but speaking to a psychiatrist has helped her immensely.
  • Get support! Talk to your friends, your siblings, your significant other, a psychiatrist, or others in the same situation you are.

It’s been two years since my parents divorced and a lot of things have changed. It’s the summer of 2015, I’m 30 years old, and I’ve settled into my career in marketing. My dad still lives in my childhood home and is working on renovating it with his girlfriend. My mom has a nice little condo, two dogs, and an active social life. Things aren’t perfect – there are still hiccups, grumbling, and tears from all parties, but it is getting better. Slowly, but surely, things are getting better.

Liz Greene hails from the beautiful city of trees, Boise, Idaho. She’s a lover of all things geek and is happiest when cuddling with her dogs and catching up on the latest Marvel movies. You can follow her on Twitter @LizVGreene.

Sometimes You Just Need a Good Cry

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

Through the ramped-up demands of the end of school year.

Through the extra stress I carry home.

And the extra sleep that remains elusive.

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

To turn off “teacher” and turn on “wife.”

To make time for fun when all I really want is time to breathe.

To allow projects to sit unattended while I attend to the immediate.

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

When fears from the past whisper, “What if?”

And my mind starts its wondering.

And I’m so drained from making children “shush,” that I can’t get my own mind to.

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

When people innocently ask me what my plans are for the summer and all I can answer is, “Getting there.”

And a persistent foot injury prevents me from my usual outlet of running.

Or even doing yoga.

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

As I sit in meetings planning for the next year in the classroom. The year I thought I would be free.

As I wrestle with the decision to put energy where I am or energy where I want to go. Even though the doors remain closed.

As I contemplate trading my new savings for a new car, an exchange of security.

I’ve been trying to hold it together.

Until last night, when it all fell out in a wash of messy tears.

Pressure valve full-on open.

And tension released.

And now, I feel like I can hold it together again.

Homesick

For many of my students, the three-day Savannah field trip is their first time away from their parents for any length of time. And, although they won’t admit it, it’s also their first time really experiencing homesickness.

I could see it in their increased anxiety, expressed through endless questions and clarifications.

I could feel it in their more frequent neediness as certain ones wanted to always be alongside a chaperone.

I could hear it in their voices, unsure of their first night without an adult in their hotel room.

I could sense it in their hesitation, asking if they were allowed to use the microwave in the room or when they should shower.

The homesickness was partly from being away from their usual space and routine.

But it was more from being pulled out of their comfort zone.

Unease arising from navigating new boundaries and undertaking new responsibilities.

Accompanied of a sense of the end of their childhoods and the start of a new chapter.

The first time I remember feeling homesick was during my debut night at college. I had rented a room in a co-op and, as is my nature, I retreated to my space to find some quiet. The addition that enclosed my room was slipshod, and the crumpled newspaper insulation did little to shield against the heat of a late Texas summer. I laid spread-eagle on my futon mattress, sweat darkening the sheets and realized that the purchase and installation of a window air conditioner was solely my responsibility unless I wanted to wait until my mom or then-boyfriend (later infamous ex) could offer assistance.

It was a long night. The unfamiliar sounds of the strangers I lived with filtered through my hollow door. The hot, heavy air seemed to wrap me in its suffocating grasp, keeping pinned to the lumpy bed. I had no phone apart from the public one in the shared space that required the use of a calling card and internet was still limited to a single computer lab on campus. I had a car. A credit card. Yet, since I was still 17, I had to secure permission before seeking medical attention or changing a class. It was a strange sensation, that feeling of no longer belonging in my childhood yet not yet fully independent. I missed the familiar yet I knew it was time to move on.

The next morning, I clumsily navigated to Wal-Mart and wrestled a window air conditioner into the trunk of my car. Several hours, and one long bloody thigh wound later, I finally had the machine installed and humming away. I felt a little less homesick that night.

The only other time I remember feeling homesick was after the divorce. Again, I was pulled away from all that was familiar. Again, I was in limbo, no longer an occupant of my old life and yet not fully part of the new. Again, I felt the overwhelming responsibility of being on my own. Again, I felt the frustration of needing to ask for help for the simplest of matters. Again, I laid on a strange bed listening to strange sounds as I tried to settle into sleep.

And again, as I tackled challenges in my way, I no longer felt as homesick.

Sometimes, the cure for homesickness is to return home.

But sometimes returning is not an option.

And the cure is in letting go of the home that was.

And creating the home that can be.

Mommies Are…

I test drove motherhood this week.

I was one of 24 chaperones on a three-day trip to Savannah with 378 8th graders.

I love these trips, but they are such a shock to my system as I go from no kids to being completely responsible for a group of 16 and sharing responsibility for the others.

My days started with me trying to grab sips of coffee while I made the rounds, making sure students were awake and appropriately dressed, administering medication and giving sage advice to address the issues that arise overnight when you stick four teenage girls in a room together.

Breakfast, usually my peaceful time in front of the computer, was taken standing up in the lobby of the hotel so that I could direct the girls and strive to keep their voices at a semi-reasonable level. I think I managed two bites of hot oatmeal before it congealed.

Through the day, I lugged a large backpack filled with their medications and the day’s schedule. I was nurse, tour guide and counselor in one. I made sure that sunscreen and bug spray were applied. And then reapplied. I cautioned them about the effects of the overconsumption of sugar and the need to bring a jacket. I even found myself repeating the dreaded mom words, “Just try,” at the limited bathroom opportunities.

I swear the girls knew the moment I stepped into the shower at the end of the long days as the phone would start to ring as soon as I applied the shampoo to my hair – the hotel equivalent of calling “Mom” across the house.

By the time all of the girls were settled in their rooms, I would collapse, exhausted.

Yet unable to sleep.

The details of the days are tiring, but it is nothing compared to the weight of responsibility that motherhood, even of the three-day variety, holds. I saw potential dangers lurking around previously harmless corners. Every stranger was a threat, every body of water a potential drowning and every curb provided an opportunity to fall. At night, I found that I could not enter deep sleep, as I was constantly listening for the kids.

When I was a kidmyself, the pastor at my church would call all of the children up to the steps in front of the pulpit for a brief children’s message embedded within the larger sermon. One year when I was about four, the pastor celebrated Mother’s Day by beginning with the prompt, “Mommies are” and then holding out the microphone for the kids to complete the sentence.

The first few shares were your standard:

“Mommies are nice.”

“Mommies are pretty.”

“Mommies are gentle.”

And then the microphone was put in front of me. My contribution on that Mother’s Day?

“Mommies are tired.”

Yes, they are. Motherhood is a job with the biggest responsibilities possible and no time off. Motherhood is a job that, just when you think you have it figured out, your kid enters a new phase; you’re in perpetual training. Motherhood is a job that requires that your own needs are neglected so that your offspring’s needs are met.

It is tiring.

But is also rewarding beyond belief, as reflected in the faces of the moms as they reunited with their kids at the end of the trip. I’m sure they enjoyed their three days of peace and quiet but they were thrilled to see their kids (even stinky, cranky, hopped-up-on-sugar kids:) )again.

As for me, I enjoyed the test drive but this particular model is not for me. I’ll stick with teaching!

Happy Mother’s Day to all you tired mommies. I am in awe of what you do every day.

In and Out of Love

My brain, numbed and molded into a box from days of administering standardized tests is slow to make connections and weave non-standardized sentences this morning. I have found myself strangely drawn towards curves over the last two weeks – doodling nonsensical and nonlinear designs, sitting in the comforting arch of the non-corner of my deck and appreciating the bends in the trees and the undulations in the clouds.

It always takes some time for me to re-adjust. To remember that life is not multiple choice and that children are not defined by which bubble they darken. To feel comfortable again speaking off of a script and speaking my mind. Today, I am purging myself of the testing remains and spending time without monitoring minutes or erasures.

Meanwhile, here’s another collection of some interesting articles that I have encountered over the last few weeks. Enjoy. And remember, life is not a test. There are no wrong answers, only different paths.

presentlife

The Science of Betrayal

This research invested the effect of oxytocin on feelings of betrayal. The results are interesting and not what I would have expected. My ex expertly used affection, and thus oxytocin, to keep me calm.

Life Sucks

After the Divorce: 5 Ways to Know if You’re Ready to Date

Good stuff here. I have to admit, I started dating before I had resolved all of these (I was still pretty angry), but they all had to be resolved before I could really be in a relationship.

interview

She Shared Her Brutally Honest Experience of His Affair and It Worked

I share this not because I think it will “work” to save a relationship on the rocks (you have to have a straying partner willing and able to listen first), but because I think it is a well-written description of what it feels like to be betrayed. Countless writers have attempted to describe the pain in words. I don’t think any words can quite embody it. But these get close.

pullplug

The 10 Biggest Reasons People Fall Out of Love

It’s interesting the perspective that can be gained when distilling something so complicated into a simple list. I know I fell out of love at first sight once I realized that he wasn’t the person I thought he was.

Happily Ever After

5 Tips to Improve Your Self-Talk

We work hard to improve our physical environment – creating a comfortable home and welcoming space. Yet sometimes we neglect to spruce up the environment we spend the most time in – our own minds. The words we say to others have influence and the words we say to ourselves have power. Choose them carefully.