Being a child of divorce can mean different things for a person depending on the civility of the divorce in question. However, typical consequences of being a child of divorce include being shuffled around from one house to another every other weekend, alternating holidays or having two of each, celebrating your birthday on two different occasions (although this might not be exclusively for children of divorce) and having to be in the middle of it all when they fight over who gets you when.
I think it can all be summed up in two words: It sucks. Because it does really, really suck. Nothing can speak to the emotional pain felt by children during this painful stage. There's devastation, brokenness, emptiness, hurt, confusion, sorrow and shock, among other feelings. But sometimes there's joy and happiness. Sometimes there's relief and a release of angst. As I said: it all depends on the situation.
In my personal experience, I went through my parent's divorce in an oblivion. I can't recall being overly devastated or joyful over the situation. I just remember waking up and doing my normal routine every day like there was nothing wrong. And maybe there wasn't. I had (still do have) anxiety, but I was never anxious about it. There was yelling--a lot of yelling--but it never phased me. Insults were thrown, doors were slammed, and tears were shed, yet I just kept on keeping on because to me, it was nothing new. I had to calm my younger brother who would cry whenever they would fight, and I was so used to the screaming it barely affected me. In retrospect, it truly was unusual. I think the best way to describe my emotions during the time was "mildly upset."
Oddly enough, I came out of it all alright.
It was a tough situation, no doubt about it. Even though I was oblivious to everything around me during the time, it took its toll. My friends' parents were happy and they never yelled at each other or called one another hideous names, but mine did. Their moms didn't stumble into the house late at night, but mine did. I didn't understand. It hurt. It still hurts. I'm still jealous of the kids whose parents are still together and happy.
But despite the hurt, being a child of divorce made me stronger. I didn't realize it at the time, but my father tried everything to make sure we had a semi-normal life. He busted his ass to make it seem like we weren't truly missing one element of the parental equation. He worked incredibly hard to make sure we were shielded from the evil emanating from his gone-up-in-flames marriage. He succeeded. I always thought he was just being a dad, which he was, but he was going above and beyond. He showed us that it was possible to have a good life, to be happy, to have dreams in the midst of a very dark cloud hanging over our heads.
It made me stronger. I didn't see it then, but I do now. Each morning I picked myself up and went on with my life. It showed me that life can be tough and unfair during the most primitive times, but if you can get up and keep fighting, you stand a chance at succeeding. It taught me that the only one who can control which path I go in is myself. I learned that the only real control over any situation we are faced with is the attitude we have about it. I learned to wake up and keep going. I was integrated with the knowledge that every day I can start again.
It was a wild ride, and some days it feels as if it's never truly ended, but every day I do what the experience taught me: keep going.
