Being a child of divorce is not easy. Custody battles usually aren't pretty. Traveling back and forth between mom and dad's is annoying. Holidays are really just guilt trips to get you to go see one side versus the other.

Parents won't speak to each other except through the kids. Half the time they talk shit on each other.

I, fortunately, was one of the lucky ones. My mom and dad both agreed from the get-go that I was to stay with my mom full time while my dad got me on certain holidays and different breaks throughout the year. They are still relatively good friends to this day. Their divorce was on relatively mutual terms, making most of the decisions easy.

But, while most of us might wish for our parents to get back together, it really doesn't happen.

Instead, we get stepparents.

Now, I am not bashing stepparents by any means. Most of the time they are great. My first stepdad was great to me. He and my mother had their own issues, but he was good to me.

He was the only person I ever remember living with, so when they divorced, he still had some privileges. Every Sunday he would pick me up, and we would go do something for the day. I was young so this made it much easier for me.

But not all of them are great.

When my mom met my current stepdad again I was happy. He was friendly, helpful and just an overall good guy. He had two kids of his own, so I finally had "siblings;" growing up an only child got boring. We moved in with him when I was nine.

As I got older, things slowly got worse. I couldn't really tell you when it all started. It was a slow enough progression that by the time I realized there was a problem, there was literally nothing I could do.

His kids decided they didn't want to stay with us anymore; they wanted to live with their mom full time. At the time, I didn't fully understand. While he and I had our own problems they weren't bad enough yet for me to fully realize why they wanted to leave.

They got their wish, and I didn't see them for a few years.

So his anger turned to me.

He was never physical, just verbal. He had these weird ticks that made him extremely angry. Pant legs rubbing together, silverware touching teeth or dishes, chewing on lips or fingernails and a hell of a lot more.

I developed anxiety because of it. I never knew what was going to set him off. I never had friends over because there was no way I could explain everything that made him mad to them. It just wasn't feasible.

The few times I did have people over he would hover over us. Always staying within earshot but never close enough to really seem like an issue.

I caught him standing in my doorway at night multiple times.

I went through my hellion phase just like most teenagers, which just made everything worse. Punishments consisted of sitting in the living room being called every name under the sun. Ungrateful bitch. Whore. Slut. Spoiled brat.

I started believing what he was saying.

So I became self-destructive. No one noticed for a long time, and when they finally did, I was thrown into therapy. They were able to pinpoint that my self-destructive behavior was because of him. But nothing changed.

I was, and always will be, the problem.

I now am no longer allowed on the property that I grew up on. He got angry with me, per usual, and my mom took his side. I always knew she would choose him over me, but that solidified it.

Parents are supposed to be there for you, even if you screwed up. I had no childhood because of this man. I was never allowed anywhere and couldn't do anything. I was 19 with a curfew of 9 p.m.

Everyone always says that stepparents are parents that stepped up when they didn't have to; well that's not always the case.

Instead of being someone we thought would be a second mom or dad, they became a prison warden. They gain full control over our real parent, and before we know it, our real mom or dad won't believe us anymore.

Everything they say goes, and there's no room for argument. Any little thing you say is taken as attitude. We, as the stepchild, are on lockdown while their kids get almost everything.

I wish more than anything that we would have been able to get along, mostly for my mother's sake. I think most people wish that.

It's hard to live in a household when you're afraid to go home. There are usually efforts made to fix things, but they never work.

There is a certain amount of respect to be had for people who take on the task of being a stepparent. But it needs to be done correctly or an already difficult situation will be even worse.