Personal Narrative: Coping With Divorce

I was depressed, really depressed, but at a certain point I decided Fuck it, I

In the seventh grade my parents decided to get a divorce, it had a very negative effect on my family. Being in middle school the situation was very confusing and vague. I thought to myself how annoying it’s going to be switching houses every week and having double the thanksgivings, christmases, easters,etc. Also having

After my mom announced that she was getting a divorce from my dad, I found that it became increasingly harder for me to

After making the decision to leave it divided up my family in more ways than one. For a while, I always asked myself how could my mother do that to me, at that age, what did I do so wrong. My family

As a result, my grades went downhill and I had a hard time dealing with my emotions. Halfway through my sophomore year, I realized that I was the one person in my life that did not have to be affected by the divorce. I picked up my grades, improved my study habits, and began to enjoy high school more. I learned how hard it is to run a household. My dad worked long hours and traveled most of the month, and I had to step in and become the new “mom”. After school each day, I make sure that Tim’s homework is done, I help to prepare dinner, and I brave the cold New England weather to walk our dog, Bailey in the morning and late at night so that my dad can rest after coming home from a long day of work.

I pulled myself together and set my face like flint. Regardless of the past or future I had learned happiness in not a place to arrive at, but rather how I daily lived my life. Even though I was in relentless pain and surgeries were being scheduled, I was going to be happy. That was a choice.

At initial, I did not comprehend the meaning of a divorce. For me a divorce meant that my dad was going to take vacations, however, come back to the house once he finished his vacations; little did I know that it was not like that. It meant that he would no longer live with us. At first, it was hard to get used to living in two different homes

Being surrounded by love and care is one of the most valuable pieces to living. Thousands of people, like myself, live most of their life without a caring family. Other people lose their family by either death or by simply being rejected. My biological parents never cared for me nor my siblings. When I was sixteen, I lost my mother. The mother who adopted me yet loved me. I lost her to a vicious disease known as cancer. When she was alive, I remember dreading coming home and hearing her nag. After losing her, I instantly forgot what I had. I immediately regretted having that attitude towards her. I should have brought that cup of coffee she wanted in bed. I should have listened to her when she spoke. More than anything, I wished I could have been there for her more. I wish I could take back so many things and appreciate what I had. She was my family. The first and last person I called

It seemed as though we were just a big, happy, and growing family, my sister had just gotten married and had two beautiful daughters. The girls were the most precious things I 've ever seen in my life, one was four years old and the other had just turned two. My sister and brother-in-law seemed to have a pretty decent and happy marriage, when before we all knew it their marriage was on the rocks and divorce was being talked about. Before too long my brother-in-law had moved out of the house and left my sister to take care of the two kids, work, and try to finish college. It all became too much for her and she lost control, she started to not take care of the kids properly, lost her job, and was abusing her prescription medicines.

One potential limitation of this study is self-selection bias. Our participants might have achieved better resolution with their feelings following their divorce or be more agreeable and talkative in general. Thus, our study findings may not cover the experiences of gray divorce for people who are still struggling to make sense of their divorces or are too bitter to discuss their past relationships. Some individuals participated because they anticipated the therapeutic benefit in talking through their divorce experiences with an unbiased third party—the interviewer. Another limitation of this study is that we recruited our sample from the participant pool of an Internet-based quantitative study on gray divorce. Thus, we missed out on the perspective

As a young boy, my parents decided it was best for the family if they got a divorce. At the time, divorce was not in my vocabulary, meaning I brushed it off as it nothing. It was nothing until shelly, my biological mother, turned it into something. Something that has taught me many values, values that will continue to make me push forward.

I was trying so hard not to let my family or friends know what I was going through. I pretended to be happy any time they were around. They began to see a slight change in me,

It felt a little like I was back outside again, my lava tears streaking down my cheeks, making my tear ducts sting. The room closed in on me and my eyes scanned the space from left to right, spinning and dancing across my mother’s concerned look. I can’t say I was angry, that I felt some predictable rage or crippling sadness. I just felt numb, untouched and untouchable. It was as if I was floating in the air, accompanied by the words my father just spoke, chasing each other around in some chaotic tornado, and yet everything around me was still. There was no feeling really, just reaching and grasping for something to be different, failing to comprehend.

Divorce. A word I thought I would never have to use when Kevin and I got married, a word that scared and intimidated me, yet here I am using it asking myself where do I go from here? One night, Kevin texted me and asked me, “Do you ever think we got married too early?” At that point my heart sank and I knew what was about to happen. He was about to leave me. The reality of what was happening had hit me like a truck and I knew I needed to start thinking of myself. I knew the divorce was going to be a process, but I needed to figure out what in this process was more important to start with. First, I needed to let my parents know what was going on so I could move home, then I needed to change my bank information, and file for divorce.

I can remember the gut wrenching feeling that overwhelmed my entire body the moment my parents broke the news to both my sisters and me. I sensed a lump in my throat and was unable to swallow, and tears that filled my eyes right before they streamed down my face. My cheeks were feverishly red as anger overcame my body. I could not accept that my parents were going to be getting a divorce.