I don't know what this post is going to be about. It is probably going to go about nothing special, but I am still going to write it. I don't even know if I'm going to publish it or not.
My parents are divorced, and I don't know if yours are as well, but if they are, you know what I'm going to talk about right now. If your parents are still together, God bless you and please be really happy about it. Because my parents divorced approximately five years ago. And I can still remember the day/evening/night my father told my mum about it.
I was laying in my bed, and I think I couldn't sleep, or it woke me up, but I heard my parents talking in the room next to me. My bedroom was like, next to my parent's room, with the bathroom in between these two. I heard my father's voice, trying to sound as calm as possible. And I heard my mother's voice. She sounded really desperate and panicked... she was crying. I was shocked and sneaked out of my bed to have a look at what was happening that moment. When I looked at my parents, I saw that my mum was crying, and that my dad was holding and hugging her, he didn't cry. As soon as he saw me, he made a gesture that I really shouldn't be here, so I left the room and went back to my room again. But I couldn't sleep. I still heard my mum crying and my father trying to calm her down. At that moment, I still didn't know what there were talking about.
Later that night I heard that someone stepped out of the bed, and put on some trousers. I could here my father say: "don't do that. It don't have to be like this" so I figured it was my mum who was putting on some clothes. My parents started to fight a bit. I was about eight, and that means that it really felt uncomfortable and unsafe when I heard my parents fighting and being angry and crying. My mum (I supposed, I still didn't know for sure who had put on their clothes by then) left the room and went downstairs, quickly followed by my dad.
They continued talking and being panicked even when they went downstairs. Later I heard that someone dropped, what sounded like, keys. And I was right, it were keys. Not even five minutes later, my mum left the house and had, apparently, taken the car and had driven away. It is very obvious that I was really upset by then. My father called his mother (my grandma) and told what just happened. I tried to listen as carefully as I could, even I was crying so it wasn't the easiest thing to do (my room was on floor higher than my parents (my dad only) were at that moment and there were a lots of doors between us as well).
Ten minutes later (it could have been much longer, I can't remember exactly, it is a long time ago), the phone rang and my dad answered it. The only thing I heard him saying was: "Oh, you are on your way home again?"... and then I could rest. I can't remember anything that happened later that night. I assume I fell asleep, but my mum was on her way home again and I know everything was okay (as okay as every thing could be at that moment).
The next morning was really weird and awkward. I was sitting at the table, with my little sister (not much older than five years old by then) and my parents. Every thing and everyone was quiet. No one said a word. I felt that no one, except my little sister maybe, felt happy or rested. When I woke up, I couldn't think about anything else but what happened last night. I wished that I had a bad dream or something. But it wasn't a bad dream. It had really happened. I saw it by the look in my parent's eyes. Both of them were looking weird and didn't say a word.
I went to school that day. Like everything was okay. I was forgetting about what happened last night. But at some point, my mum was there to pick me up from school. Apparently school knew about this, because I was allowed to leave school. My mum drove me all the way to my grandma and grandpa (my father's parents) and she left. A couples of minutes later (I don't know how much later), my father was there. He took me to a farmyard somewhere near to my granny's house. He told me what had happened last night, and what was going to happen from now on.
Of course I was right, my parents were going to divorce. I can still remember how terrible I felt about that. I also remember that I've said something like: "If you two are ever going to divorce, I don't want to live with any of you because you two will fight about it.", but when they actually did, I didn't want to leave my parents.
My dad told me about two years ago that at this conversation we held, I told him something that made him feel a proud that. Apparently I said: "You can't make another person happy, if you are not happy yourself.". I can't remember that I ever said something like that, but I really did. I know my father wouldn't lie about something like this.
After this day, things changed really fast. My father moved out our house, to live with my current stepmother. I remember the first day I met her. She looked really nice and like a good, sweet, loving mother and I actually didn't mind that my dad kissed her. I made a present for here. I made her a paper frog and she liked it. My little sister made her a drawing.
After a few months... maybe two, my father and my stepmother (who wasn't my stepmother yet back then) bought a tiny house. Well, they hired a apartment somewhere in the city I currently live. I was really scared that I had to leave my own house and my own room, and even worse, the city I lived and have lived all my life. But my mum reassured me that we might had to leave the house, but that we wouldn't have to leave the city. We could look for a house somewhere else in that city. But we did not. We found a little nice house. But someone else took it before we could.
We had to leave our first house, and my mum was kind of in love with the ex of my new stepmother (you get it?) and I remember that we travelled every free minute we had to where I live right now so that those two could be together. I didn't really bother, because he also had a child. She appeared to be a girl and she was just as old as I am, and we could get along really well.
Later he offered his house, and so we moved in. I have always had a really big room, and all of a sudden, I had to share a room with someone else, and the room wasn't even half as big as my old room was. So I really had to get used to that.
Later, my father and his new girlfriend bought a house, near to my mother's new house, and they moved out of the flat. I got my own room there, so I don't have to share this one as well.
I really hate it that my parents are divorced, even though I know it is better for everyone. But still... if you're breaking up with each other and you have children as well, don't let the children be the victims of this whole happening. You are breaking up with each other because you aren't in love any more, because you fight a lot and you want to prevent more fights... but really... I don't want to sound all stupid and self-pittying... but my little sister (who's eleven years this day) and I really are the victims of the divorcing. We have always been, we still are, and we will always been it as well.
Not that there's anything I can do about it, but I always have the feeling that I have to choose between one of the two and that makes me sick. It makes me feel like I'm a bad daughter because I choose for my mum for like 90% of the time.
I see/saw my father approximately once or twice a week. But never more days than that.
But oh well... I guess that I'm not the only one who is going through this kind of life problems right now. How many people are marrying and divorcing not even more that five years later, having a three year old baby? I'm sorry, but that just sounds really irresponsible.
Anyway, enough talking about shit like this. I had a wonderful night going out with my friends, and tomorrow night, we're going out again and it is going to be great! My friends are great! I love them!
And for now... good night people.
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