You Are Not to Blame
2 minute read.
This story was written by an anonymous contributor at 26 years old. Her parents separated when she was 7. She gave permission for her story to be shared.
Her STORY
My father may or may not have had an affair with his secretary (cliche I know, but it was never confirmed). He and my mother separated and he immediately moved in with the other woman. My brothers and I had 7 days on, and 7 days off with each parent. My eldest brother was traumatized the most, I suppose since he was 10 when it happened. His rage turned into violence and sexual abuse against me, which went on for a couple of years until I told my father about it. He didn't believe it happened but it freaked out my brother and so the sexual abuse stopped and was replaced with only violence. The most terrifying memory I have was waking up to my brother straddling me with his hands around my throat, screaming that he would kill me. I was 15 at that time.
Going back to the divorce — my mother eventually found a condo. She was extremely manipulative, violent, and verbally abusive. Most of this was a result of her fury that she could never get pregnant (my 2 brothers and I were adopted) but only 3 years after adopting me, she was left without a husband but with 3 kids. She often used her status as an "adoption mom" as a way to "prove her love and kindness and empathy". It drove me mad.
My eldest brother chose to be with our father full-time when he was 14. I ended up doing the same at 15 because her manipulation became too much for me to handle. As an example of her manipulation -- she encouraged me to get a job at a bakery in the mall where she worked (I really didn't want one yet, I had enough going on at that time, but she said I needed one) because she was friends with the owner. I had just turned 15 but the legal working age was 16. He agreed to hire me anyway because she was his friend. She took me to the bank to open a joint account but — here's the kicker — I was not permitted to have access to it. Only she would have the card, and she would use it as she pleased.
Anyways I left shortly after that and opened a new bank account.
Moving on to my father — his new girlfriend moved in with us quite early on. I think it was a year or two after the divorce. In the beginning, I quite liked her but soon it became clear that she did not like children. She had a daughter of her own but she was approaching 30 years old. I constantly overheard her at night telling my father about what bad people my brothers and I were (mind you, my second brother who is 6 weeks older than me is autistic) and that she would be happier if we were gone. This was a nearly daily occurrence.
At her request, I was given all the housework as chores. My brothers and I would do the dishes together but all the other cleaning — bathroom, vacuuming, washing the table and counters, windows, washing the floor, etc. — was my responsibility twice a week. This doesn't sound like much but I also had high school from 8 AM to 3 PM every weekday, worked Thursday and Friday from 4 PM to 9 PM, and weekends from 9 AM to 6 PM, plus I had homework. Somehow I came out of all of this with good grades. But when my stepmother would come home (she came home an hour before my dad), she'd inspect my cleaning and relay all the mistakes back to my father, which infuriated him and ultimately fed her lies about what a horrible person I was.
Meanwhile, I was allowed no social time, I was not allowed to go see friends during the week, nor could I go see them on the weekend since I was working. When I finished school, I had to walk home and immediately call my father. (These were the days when many people still didn't have cellphones, only landlines.) I had to call immediately and he would see which number was calling him so he'd know that I had come straight home and not gone to see anyone else.
My "fondest" memory of his control (perpetuated by his lovely girlfriend) was when he locked the pantry doors and didn't allow us to access the food without permission because I had once come home from school during lunch and cooked myself ramen in the microwave. He was furious because he planned on taking it to work the next day (which I did not know). We could afford to buy another ramen from the grocery store that was one block down the street. But I digress. That lock remained on the door for years.
Another very fond memory of mine was when I wrote a letter to my father about all the verbal abuse and control at the hands of my stepmother. I folded the note and wrote "dad — this is for you and no one else. please don't show anyone." I left it on my desk and went to my mother's for the week (this was when I was 14). He read it, showed it to her, then sat my brothers and me down at the kitchen table to discuss it. They had written the letter with me but of course, the confrontation scared them so they threw me under the bus. I was subsequently locked in my room for 2 days. I didn’t eat or drink anything. I ended up getting so sick I vomited. When that happened my stepmother permitted me to leave my room to eat supper on day three. I was still sick but she accused me of intentionally vomiting the food she had prepared.
That last story reminds me of the time my father found my diary and read it out loud to my brothers and stepmother while I sat idly by at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, humiliated.
I can keep going with stories like this but let's just say they made it very clear for many years that at 18 my brothers and I were no longer welcome in the house. They went so far as to buy me pots and pans as a Christmas gift when I was 17 and stick a note on it that said "take the hint." And on my 18th birthday, I got a 2-pack of mugs that were given as a free gift with every purchase over $100 at our local grocery store. It was not wrapped and had a sticky note on it that said "happy b-day, dad".
Anyways. Needless to say, at 18 we all moved out. My eldest brother still has a tight relationship with him but my middle brother and I are completely out. It has now been 8.5 years since we moved out. Many times I attempted to make amends with both our mother and father but it didn't work out. They rejected me. "I don't have a daughter" are the words that struck me the hardest.
HOW THE DIVORCE MADE her FEEL
Extremely traumatized. Had my parents stayed together I would have never been abused by my brother. Probably not by my parents either. And definitely not by my stepmother. It was extremely traumatized. After I moved out at 18, I ended up with a severe cocaine addiction that led to me putting myself in a position to be raped. Two days after that I attempted to kill myself and spent a week in the hospital recovering.
But I have moved on.
HOW THE DIVORCE IMPACTED her
I have made a promise to myself to NOT be my parents to my own kids. I have three of them now. Reliving the trauma of my childhood and adolescence helps to remind me of what kind of parent I will never, ever, EVER be to them
ADVICE FOR SOMEONE WHOSE PARENTS JUST SEPARATED OR DIVORCED
It's not your job to comfort your parents. But if you see that they are hurting, it's okay to sit beside them and just hold their hand in silence. It can bring them comfort, but most of all it can make you feel closer to them.
If it's a very traumatic separation (separation, in general, is traumatic, so the level of trauma you will experience is relative to your life experience thus far), seek therapy. If you can speak to your school guidance counselor, a teacher your trust, or another family member, that's a good place to start. I found a lot of comfort in sharing my life stories with my most trusted educators at school.
And most of all, remember this — you are not to blame. You are an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, and nothing else.
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