I was having a particularly bad night the other day, and often on nights like this, before bed, I grab my phone and type out as many thoughts as I can onto the ‘notes’ app so I might have some chance of falling asleep. I have now transformed many of these little exercise into ‘Virtual Therapy’ pieces on my blog, where I basically rant to you, the reader, about a topic for as long as I see fit or as long as I have words for.
I would like to point out that these thoughts came from a bad night and that I’m sharing them now because I think it’s important for the bad to be shared just as the good is: all in hope of helping someone else. In hope that someone reads this and thinks, “I guess I’m not the only one.”
So, these are my thoughts on divorce, in all their honesty:
I will never forget the first time I saw my dad cry. The way his breath hitched in his chest just before he pulled out of our hug to turn away and wipe his eyes. That is the moment that will always stick with me. That is why, four years later, I haven’t been able to forget.
If I’m the rule, rather than the exception, then I can say I have a pretty good idea of how a child of divorce thinks. How a child of divorce acts. Now I have no idea if I actually am the rule, or the exception, so just go with me on this one.
Children of divorce are different than everyone else: more guarded, full of trust issues. No matter what you’re given in the years that follow, no matter how good your own relationships may be, love still feels dangerous. Caring for someone still comes with a warning label: Caution. Potential damage and destruction ahead.
And I feel like I’m damaged. I feel like I over analyze and think too much. Hell, I know I do. I worry that I’m going to turn out the same and that one day, without knowing it, I’ll have a relationship shattered in my hands like pieces of glass, destruction that I caused, cutting into my skin so deep that the pain feels cold when it should be burning. I’m scared that happiness will feel like a foreign concept, a myth told to children, debunked by years and knowledge and reality.
I don’t want to think this way or feel this way because everyone else is moving on. Everyone else is finding a way to cope, but I’m still here, still the same, covered in invisible scars that open with every decision I make. People don’t ask me about it anymore and I’m don’t really talk about it. It’s like I’m not allowed to almost. The statute of limitations is gone, too much time has passed. I’m suppose to be new and shiny. I’m suppose to be stronger, because no matter how close it came, it didn’t kill me.
If people call me the ‘happy girl’ then most days they are right. But there are other days, still, hard days where I work to keep it all together. Always have a song in your head to keep the bad thoughts out. Laugh long enough, loud enough, so they figure everything’s alright. Well, tonight I’ve got no melody and I’m tired of the laugh track I’ve recorded for my life. I’m sorry if you were expecting different.