by Kristin Castle

Created on: October 12, 2007

My parents divorced just prior to my tumultuous teen years. I can honestly say that I never saw it coming. I do recall a few rather intense arguments, usually in the wee hours of the morning. But I believe that they must have genuinely tried to shield my brother and me most of the time. One day, my mother took me shopping to break the news, and my father took my brother golfing to do the same. My mom told me in the car on the way to the mall. I vividly recall my mother, behind the wheel, gripping a tissue and fighting back tears (and losing the battle), struggling to get the words out. I don't recall any of her words. I remember crying because it just seemed like the appropriate response, plus I was fourteen and obviously going to milk any situation that permits me to feel sorry for myself. But my pain was for my mother who was obviously so hurt and vulnerable at that moment. And while I may have believed, at that time, that her pain was over losing my father, I know now that this was nothing compared to having to look her child in the face and tell her that her family was breaking up. While I graciously accepted all of the guilt-ridden clothing, shoes and accessories my mother bought me that day, I soon realized that this was not all about me. My parents were not happy. They had fallen out of love with each other. There love for me would never change.

My father moved out only days later. It was just my mother and me in the house now as my brother went off to college. I became a rotten teenage daughter who made horrible, spiteful decision, mostly in a conscious attempt to piss off my perpetually angry and bitter mother. I once told my father that I hated her. He later told her that I said this and that he could see it in my eyes. I hate myself for all of this now that I know she was actually just heartbroken. I wish she could have just told me that to begin with. I'm sure I would have been much more understanding and rational towards her irrationalities. In her defense, how do you tell your daughter, who idolizes her daddy, that he didn't move out because she was an angry emotional basket case suffering from unresolved childhood traumas who was sick of his annoyingly easy going, laid back response to everything. He left because he thought he found someone better. I'll digress here to admit that there has still never been mention of this fact by either parent, but as I grew older, the details grew clearer. I wish my mother did not accept my aggregate blame.

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