Childhood Trauma - Divorce

I have found our childhood is where most of our adult problems stem from. The continuous cycles we play a part of and the baggage we carry is from unresolved Childhood Trauma. Even our body can be broken down over time, our cells and subconscious mind storing energy of hurt, abandonment, broken trust, and heartbreak in our bodies. That backache you’ve always had, that blood pressure problem, or that wrist pain that comes and goes but never quite goes away, can all stem from unresolved trauma. So let’s talk about it.

We’ve all been through our own set of traumas, however haunting they are, they made a lasting impression on each of us in their unique way. Trauma has a sneaky way of choosing your next partner and how they treat you, your next job and how your boss treats you, where you might or might not choose to live, how much money you tell yourself you are worthy of making, so and so forth. Trauma will control you, if left unresolved.

In this first series, we’re discussing divorce and separation whether it was our parents, or maybe our own that affected our children. For me, it was my parent’s separation and divorce that crushed me. It was a life changing set of experiences and a single moment that I will remember forever.

I was an over-achiever, striving for academic and athletic perfection so that I would be worthy of my parents love. I was in private school, aiming for straight A’s, although I didn’t have to try too hard. School came easy for me for the most part. I had been the captain of my cheer squad, the best on my dance team, and was kicking ass in martial arts. Yes, over-achiever, I was over-extended in trying to be the perfect daughter. I wanted to be the best I could be so that I felt worthy of my parent’s approval and love. I would have killed myself trying.

Then comes the moment my parents get into one of their many arguments. I was 15, about to start high school. It was a couple of days before my mother’s birthday. My OCD mother had a fit about the remote control not being where it was supposed to be. My dad was tired, he was fed up, and he was done. (Now, this is not to paint a picture of a villain vs. good guy, this is just my account of what happened. In a relationship when you commit, you both are responsible for the outcome of that relationship over time, whether it grows and blossoms or it deteriorates.) This wasn’t just another argument though. When I say my father was done, his last concern was that remote control, he was defeated and his soul was tired. He was tired of fighting a fight he knew deep down he could never win. My mother was angry. She was angry that things weren’t the way that she needed or wanted them to be and that my dad wasn’t ever going to be what she wanted, no matter how angry she got or how much she yelled, screamed, or cried.

It’s sad really, very sad.

The argument didn’t last long, because my dad told my mom that he was done. He was leaving, and he meant it. I wonder now how much that remote control really meant to my mother, even though it wasn’t about the remote itself probably. But the principal behind it, that he never put things in their place and how much she truly hated that. But looking back now, was it worth it? I always wonder that.

That’s a question I cannot answer. I did not live their lives, experience their love or relationship. I was just a bystander in it.

Fast forward to a few days later, and my dad was leaving. He meant what he said and he left. He did sit down with me and talk with me about it beforehand. I handled the situation objectively. He explained to me that he was leaving my mother, not me. I explained to him, that when he leaves her, he is leaving me as well. I told him that once he walked out that door, it was done. I would not have anything to do with him. He explained to me the reasons for him leaving, and I did not care at the time. Looking back on my mother’s and father’s relationship, as I grew older, I understood more and more why my father could not stay in the relationship and I do not blame him for leaving.

It was a large decision for a 15 year old to make. However, I based it on the fact that he was mentally ill. Without my parents being together, he was not taking care of himself physically or mentally and had stopped taking his medication. Unfortunately, I made the call that it would be better if we split ties. It was supposed to be a clean easy break. I was matter of fact and clear in my decision making. I do not regret my decision. If anything, I just wish things could have been different, for my parents and myself. However, I know that everything happens for a reason.

So my dad left. It was a sad day. It was weird without him around to make us laugh and smile, to make small messes around the house, and not to be there to see me grow up, but I blocked all of that out. My mom broke down, so I immediately stepped up as best I could to be there for her. One thing about my parents, they are to this day, the strongest people I have ever met. They have been through things that not all people would have lived through, and many times over meaning it was more than one incident they survived. So when one or two of the strongest people you know break down, if you’re a feisty fire sign in a family full of fire signs, you step the fuck up because it is in your nature. This is not in the slightest to say that my mother is weak or passing any sort or judgement for how she handled my dad deciding to leave. She is one of the strongest people I know, to this day.

This is really the part I wanted to get into and focus on, because it’s the part that I feel some of us forget the easiest. The details, how we actually reacted, and how things changed us in the next coming moments. Did we carry on these things we picked up? Are we still in survival mode? Do I really trust men? Do I feel safe? This is the juicy stuff right here.

I didn’t go to school for two weeks. My mother was distraught, for many different reasons. The love of her life just up and left, and she had a daughter to take care of when she wasn’t even okay enough to take care of herself. Our entire lives were turned upside down, the rug had been pulled from beneath our feet, leaving us broken on a freezing cold hard tile floor. Those two weeks are hazy, I don’t remember much except for being at home, not leaving much, staying in bed, and not going to school.

When my mom finally made me go back to school, I begged and pleaded, I didn’t want to go. It turned out to be one of the things that saved me.

My keen memory was one of the first to go. I could not remember anything for the life of me. I forgot my math textbook every day for weeks until I finally remembered to bring it home with me one day so I could catch up on all the homework I had missed. Next, I was numb. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, I was just numb. I’m sure this was some sort of survival mechanism my brain kickstarted to try and help me through this ordeal. I just remember sitting in class, not always being able to focus, but feeling as if I wasn’t even really there. It’s like I was floating in and out of reality at any given moment, trying to make it through to the next moment.

Those are trauma responses, memory loss and disconnecting or detaching emotionally. Putting others feelings before my own, co-dependency, is also a trauma response. Over extending myself to please others is a trauma response too. Not ever feeling safe because you know that at any moment the rug could be pulled from beneath you, that’s what trauma can do to you. You cannot always control your mind and body’s survival tactics for trying to lessen the blow when shit hits the fan, but what you do afterwards for the years to come, that is your responsibility.

See, what happens is, if we do not dissect ourselves and take into account what happened, how and why it happened, and how we responded, we cannot learn or grow from that experience. If we never re-visit the harsh Childhood Traumas we endured, we do not move past them. We stay frozen with them, and their affect on our mind, body, and soul stays frozen within us. From there, we pass on that trauma and the way we do things, to our friends, family, and children. This is why it is so important to visit these traumas and do our best to heal from them. Our painful experiences do not grant us permission to cause a painful experience unto the next Generation.

From there, my parents went through an actual divorce, which I was not a part of. My father and I stopped speaking for good. My mom divorced from him and we moved on as best we could. My mother had to financially build herself from the ground up so that she could support herself and me. Two years later my father passed. I miss him dearly, but I know that he is always with me, watching over me and my family, and that his love for me is unconditional.

What I gained from this experience was a whole lot of issues. I don’t think I ever truly felt safe except within the last two to three years, but the important part is that I was able to get there. I feel safe, I am safe. That is what matters. That even through the heartbreak, disappointments, and awful events that occur in our lives, we can always come out better. Now, that’s my over achiever side talking, except this time, it’s for me and all of you too :) not for anyone else.

Did your parents separate or divorce? If so, what affect did it have on you as a child? What affect does it have on you now that you are an adult?

Are your parents in the middle of a divorce and maybe you’re in the throws of this trauma?

Are you a parent and you are in separation or have separated from your partner? Have you gotten a divorce? How did that experience change you as a parent? How did that experience change you as a partner? How did it change your children or your family?