I was the first out of my friends to have divorced parents. Of course, I was only three when it happened and I don't remember it much, but as I grew older I could put together that it wasn't pretty (these things rarely are). I never thought much about it though, and it never directly effected me in a way that disrupted my happy, fleeting, little kid-esque thoughts. My parents business had always been that of their own, and when it came to me, I was left out of it.
As I grew older, however, things began to shift in my family. My father, who I had been relatively close to, went off the rails in the sixth grade. I was collateral to the damage done by him, but my mom was the one who was equally, if not more, impacted. For years following our father-daughter fall out, I'd watch her deal with him, fighting over money, child support, or just his own sanity for my sake. Watching the emotional toll it took on her first hand, the loneliness and desperation caused by somebody else's actions, angered me. I still don't think there is anything to this day that makes me as furious. My dad was supposed to be my rock, not the knife.
It took awhile for me to mature. I grew up faster than a lot of kids, but that still had nothing to do with the aspect of maturity. To me, the true definition of maturing, is taking threads and spinning them into gold. And if you aren't a metaphor person, let me explain it like this:
I had been dealt some really bad cards, and so had my mom to be frank. I have no siblings, so it was always me and her, against this terrible concoction my dad had brewed up. All of this considered, there was some good to come out of the whole situation. My mom and I have grown up incredibly close due to my fathers negligence, and while this isn't ideal, it definitely isn't something I am upset about. She has taken care of me to the best of her ability, and has given me the shirt off her back more times than I can count. There is no other person I rely on, or respect, more than her, and I always say that her purpose in life was to be a mom because there is nothing she does better (amongst her other talents).
Single parent life is not an easy one. Managing a house, a job, a lifestyle, while simultaneously trying to foster a human being into becoming a valuable member of society isn't something many people can handle. Especially when your kid is a moody, teenaged girl. My mom, though, like many other moms and dads that have raised a family single handedly, can manage all that, and more. I've grown into a strong human being because of her parenting. Not only have I been taught what to look for in boys, how to do laundry, and how to make choices beneficial to my own being, but I've been taught to embrace emotional resilience, and rise above the negative.
I look up to people like her, who have taken on difficult family situations and turned them into something greater, something better than what it is in reality. It's sad to some people, not having that picturesque white picket fence family. But I got to grow up with one of the greatest people to ever exist, learning her past, her choices, and formulating my own morals based on her experience. So, I have to ask: is it really all that sad?
