I overheard a conversation this week that disturbed me. Actually, it made me angry but I was in no position to speak up, mainly because the conversation wasn't directed at or included me, but because of my own apprehension of telling the two individuals conversing to shut up.
It was a conversation that has become part of our culture - the divorce culture, and not only was the conversation being discussed in the wrong environment, but it was being heard by a little child. The conversation was about her father, and the tale was being told by her mother to another women she barely knew.
Both women were recently divorced, both had children, and both still angry with their ex's. One of them angry enough to voice it in front of her child, and I knew by the tone of her voice and the exchange of words that this was not and would not be the first and only time those words would be heard by daddy's little girl. I felt horrible for this little one, not just for what she was hearing on that particular morning, but for all the days ahead she would have to deal with the two immature parents that were in charge of caring for and raising her.
I'm not just dogging women here, men do it too. For women, the ex's are Bastards, and the ex wives, the Bitches. How long this goes on - no one can predict, but one thing is true; where there's so called hate, there's feeling, and as long as the feeling is negative; there's trouble. Unfortunately, the ones hurt the most are those who care the least to hear the hateful words; the kids.
As I listened to this particular women call her ex on her cell and threaten him (she was upset that for some reason the dental coverage he had on his daughter had expired ((although she had great coverage herself)), and then had to endure listening to her call her ex's mother to complain, all I could do was sit there, fists tight, mouth shut, wanting to blast them both. The anger and gossip coming out of their mouths was ridiculous to me, yet they discussed this topic as if it were front page news. To them it was.
After the conversation ended, I sat there, trying to concentrate on something other than those voices, those words, and the hate. I wondered why those two women were content to spend more time cutting down their ex about what he supposedly WASN'T doing for their children, instead of them planning on what they WERE going to do. However, divorces that turn out like that leave no room for planning for kids; it's only about getting even with each other. If you didn't like your spouse enough to stay married to them, why would you want to have the rest of your life consumed in the aftermath of its ashes?
Bad divorces aren't an ending, they're a beginning. A beginning of torture for the kids caught in the middle. The kids didn't want the divorce to begin with, and now they're faced with the two very people they need to love them, attacking each other. It's an exhausting, hurtful battle that will never produce a winner, and the time lost dedicated to hating the person you once loved enough to have a child with is irreplaceable.
When will these parents learn to love their children more then they hate their ex? When will they realize, if ever, that the pain they feel and the negative energy spent trying to destroy one another will pass on to their own kids and quite possibly create a legacy that goes on forever? Why can't two people just decide they're not right for each other, move on, and give their children an environment that's productive and loving?
They can't. They are too consumed with the "I'll get even" game; a game where only losers come out winning.
Unfortunately, children can't thrive with losers as parents.
I left my ex-husband 4 years after marrying him. I married for the wrong reasons. It was doomed from the start. However, I did love him, and he gave me two wonderful children, now 20 and 22. They were 1 and 3 years old when I left. The break-up was bad, I hurt him terribly, and only now I realize how much. I didn't have the traditional wedding. His father was dying of cancer, and I wanted "dad" to see us hitched before he left this world. Wedding plans were canceled, and I asked Don, my ex, if we could go to Vegas. I could always, some other time, be married, like all girls dream of. I had time - my father-in-law to be, didn't. So, on a crisp day in April, 1984, we got married with no family present, both of us in jeans. No pictures, no ceremony, just the "I do's". It was over in minutes. Four years later so was our marriage. I never got the dream wedding, not with him or anyone since. One day, I'll get it through my daughter's. That's enough for me.
Although, I will admit, I have a very difficult time attending weddings. The jealousy, however hidden deep, prevents me from truly being happy for someone else.
No, I usually just attend the reception. There, I can get drunk enough to forget I never had my turn. I keep reminding myself it was a selfless thing to do, it makes me feel less jealous - but it never fully takes it away. Someday maybe. Or, maybe not. I'm OK with that.
I never remarried. I left my ex in 1988, but didn't even divorce him until 1996. Although I wish things could have been different, we could have worked it out, I don't regret our divorce because we were lucky.
We were amicable.
We sat next to each other that day in November of 1996in divorce court. All the other ex's were separated in the courtroom; guys on the left, girls on the right, like if they got near each other the room would explode. Yet, here Don and I sat, side by side, talking as if we were having lunch. Even the Judge was surprised when he finally got to our case and we both stood, next to each other, still connected in some way. There were no demands that day. I offered him joint custody, any visitation, any holiday and agreed to what he could afford to pay child support wise. When it was all over, we went to lunch.
Of all the things I remember about my honeymoon in Vegas, one thing sticks out more than any: our promise to each other that if we ever got a divorce, the kids wouldn't suffer. We wouldn't hate each other more then we loved our kids. We did a damn good job keeping that promise for 17 years.
Our kids, very young when we separated, didn't feel the loss as do kids who are older. They adjusted to daddy being there and mommy here much easier then older kids. I had child support issues. He paid it, but that's all he paid. I dealt with it. When and if I couldn't, I kept it to myself. He was their daddy, and I didn't want him seen as my enemy. I'm not saying we never fought, we did, but not at the expense of our kids.
I struggled, always as a single mom. He had an apartment, worked and paid support. I had an apartment, tried to work around children's schedules, and quite often felt angry that I had so much responsibility, and he only had himself to take care of. Although I gave him joint custody - I had full responsibility. My life went on hold for the next 17 years. All single mothers out there know exactly what I'm talking about. Those of us strong enough, mature enough, deal with it. The others make the lives of their children, their ex's, and almost everyone around them a horrible experience. The ultimate losers are the kids. Always.
During our 17 years apart, my ex was always invited to be part of Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, piano recitals, t-ball games etc. He was their dad and they wanted and needed him there. There were times I didn't, but it wasn't about me.
He wasn't the most involved father. Most of his appearances were due to my invites and not based on his own desires, but that's just the kind of guy he was. I couldn't change him so I worked with him. He did the best he could with what he knew to do; probably based on his own parent's parenting skills. His father, a Naval Captain, was probably not as involved in his life either. His father died 3 months after we were married. I never had the dress, but my father-in-law got his wish. We were married before he died.
On February 21, 2007, my ex lost his life to lung cancer. Fifty-two years young.
My children, once again, lost their dad. This time,it was forever.
There will be no more appearances by him. He will not be around to see my kids graduate from college. He cannot walk my daughter down the aisle while I watch her at our dream wedding. He will never feel the love of our kid's children. Nor will he ever know how much I think about the promise we made each other on that day in Vegas in 1984.
That promise was more important then the one we made each other in the Little White Wedding Chapel.
That promise, we kept - almost until the end.
Two years before he died, my ex and I fell apart. The strain of doing everything alone had taken its toll on me. He blamed me for not being able to be with his kids, when in essence he just didn't know how. I blamed him for being a dysfunctional dad.
Neither one of us knew how important those years would come to be. Only I do now.
Life is so short. Children grow up only once. Mothers and fathers get one chance to do it right, and they must do everything they can to do so.
In the end, your children will be the judge based on what you've given them to work with.
As I said earlier in this story, "love your children more then you hate your ex". Sit down, make it right, work it out. Do whatever it takes to make the lives of your kids one they want to live. Give them memories they want to remember. Give them both of you - even if you can't give your ex yourself.
Give them stability.
One day they're gonna need to lean on it.