I don’t remember how old I was. I know I was young…elementary school young. It was nighttime and I was taking a bath. My parents were talking. I heard who they were talking about and so I tuned out every noise in the old creaky house to eavesdrop. The next part isn’t my story to tell so I will be vague. I wasn’t mature enough to understand all of it. I knew what the definition of divorce was and I knew it was bad. It was my first memory of feeling that knot in my stomach. Up to that point, my life was in a bubble of seclusion. A perfect childhood away from contamination of bad things.
Devastated with tears rolling down my cheeks I got out of the bathtub, wrapped a towel around me and ran out seeking comfort from my parents. I remember the looks on their faces when they realized that I heard a conversation that was meant to be between husband and wife–not a little girl. They hugged me then sat me down on the couch and explained it in a matter that was meant for little ears. I never felt anger or resentment toward the divorcees. It was not my parents getting a divorce….by the way. My parents could not have handled it better.
That moment popped the bubble I was living in. I realized bad things could happen. I realized how divorce effects more than the couple going through it. I realized divorce happens to good people.
I would love to shelter my kids from these things, but I can’t. I would give anything for them to never feel that knot in their stomach. But. Being a parent is guiding them through the bad times because you never know what their bubble-popping moment will be.
This couple is now back together and has been for a long time. Them getting back together showed me that people make mistakes and can fix the mistakes they have made. No one is perfect. No one is meant to be perfect. Out of every bad thing, something good can come out of it too. In order to grow we can’t remain in bubbles. We have to see and experience good and bad.
(This was the first post in my so called series. I reverted it back to a draft after posting it. I may revert it back again. I don’t know. This is a hard one for me. I hate to kick around the dust of the past; it takes time for the dust to settle. I will say though that my bubble popping moment could have been much worse. Some are born into bad lives. Some have horrific things happen at young ages. My moment may seem like eating cake compared to what others have been through. Although it was a sad time; I know I am blessed that my life was and still could be considered sheltered.)