by Bree Williams

Created on: June 30, 2007

Divorce is devastating to a child. The effects of divorce can be followed and seen through adulthood. I speak from my own personal experience as well as experiences of friends I have met as an adult.
My parents divorced when I was 5, remarried each other when I was 6, and divorced again when I was 10. The first time, all I remember is riding in the backseat of the car, my younger sister and I, trying to console my mother as she was crying hysterically while trying to drive, telling her "Don't cry, Mommy. It will be okay."

The second time my parents decided to divorce is much more clear in my mind. It was my father's birthday. We were sitting at our little kitchen table, my mother, father, sister, and I, surrounding the birthday cake. After Dad blew out the candles, he announced to us that he and my mother would be getting a divorce. Even though my sister and I would lie awake at night crying and hiding under the covers, listening to my parents raised, angry voices, those words hit me like a ton of bricks. Instantly, the room got smaller, a wall that would take years to break down went up around me, and I felt my temperature rise. All I could manage to say was, "Okay". I ran out the door to try and find air to fill my lungs, to get out of that small house full of hurt that was closing in around me.
To this very day, 28 years later, I don't like cake, and I am severely claustrophobic. I insist on pies for my birthday.

I was the only girl in my 5th grade whose parents were divorcing. Children teased me, my best friend was not allowed to come to my home for playdates anymore, and I felt I had somewhat of an understanding of what discrimination was. My father had a new girlfriend who he married when I was 12. He broke my heart when he left. For a couple years, I would not look or speak to my father when he came to get us for the weekend. (every other, I might add). Even as a teen, I would cry at the mention of my father.
New siblings came along, and our weekend visits got further and further apart. When my father left, he didn't pay much in child support. We went for weeks eating only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and spaghetti noodles. My mother had to work two jobs including nights and weekends. When she was off, she went out. I became an adult at age 10, becoming the caretaker for my sister and I. Neither my sister nor I can remember my Dad ever living with us. We have completely blocked out most of our childhood, though I know we must have had one. As a

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