Coming from a "broken home" and hearing the marraige statistics everyday, I can't help but wonder if some of the people who come to this very site share a background like mine. Then I realized how stupid a question that was, because if you have to ask if you're the only person who feel/does/is X,Y or Z. Then you aren't. So instead I wanted to find out not if it happened, but if it happened, and how it changed them.
Now it's time for some no holds barred truth. My mother divorced my dad, didn't even try for custody over me and was, for a time, happy to only have to deal with me one weekend every other week or so. By the time I was actually conscious of the world around me, my dad had remarried happily and my mother was not so happily running through boyfriends much akin to one running through hot coals, quickly and painfully. I naturally gravitated to my father, stepmother and grandmother, all of which shared my "real" home. While at my mothers however I had to watch painfully as she happily drank and smoked her life away while her new dead beat husband entertained my "siblings-in-law". He wasn't a terrible man, just cold and unfriendly to me.
I suppose my mother realized how inadaquate of a mother she was, because by the time I was in middle school I had not heard from her for a year, and had not visited her for far longer.
Surprisingly enough I came out of that mess a rather adaptive and well adjusted young girl, if a little (A LOT) afraid of losing loved ones (and maybe a few odd fetishes from things i found around her house as a kid). Thankfully by the end of highschool I'd learned, thanks to my mother and the pain she caused me, to forgive others. The only regret that lingers is that I'll probably never get a chance to tell her I understand, that I forgive her. Yet, I don't think I ever loved my mother, simply because she never really was one.
So now it's you're turn internet. How was your family life growing up? And how did having a broken home, or not, effect who you became?
Now it's time for some no holds barred truth. My mother divorced my dad, didn't even try for custody over me and was, for a time, happy to only have to deal with me one weekend every other week or so. By the time I was actually conscious of the world around me, my dad had remarried happily and my mother was not so happily running through boyfriends much akin to one running through hot coals, quickly and painfully. I naturally gravitated to my father, stepmother and grandmother, all of which shared my "real" home. While at my mothers however I had to watch painfully as she happily drank and smoked her life away while her new dead beat husband entertained my "siblings-in-law". He wasn't a terrible man, just cold and unfriendly to me.
I suppose my mother realized how inadaquate of a mother she was, because by the time I was in middle school I had not heard from her for a year, and had not visited her for far longer.
Surprisingly enough I came out of that mess a rather adaptive and well adjusted young girl, if a little (A LOT) afraid of losing loved ones (and maybe a few odd fetishes from things i found around her house as a kid). Thankfully by the end of highschool I'd learned, thanks to my mother and the pain she caused me, to forgive others. The only regret that lingers is that I'll probably never get a chance to tell her I understand, that I forgive her. Yet, I don't think I ever loved my mother, simply because she never really was one.
So now it's you're turn internet. How was your family life growing up? And how did having a broken home, or not, effect who you became?