parenting

I have been divorced from my ex-husband for 5 years (separated for 6). I remember when we first split, I felt very confident that we would be one of the couples who would be able to manage our emotions and stay united for our kids. In fact, I thought we were going to rock the divorce game. I knew we would have challenges, of course, but I was certain that we would be able to rise above them. I imagined, somewhat naively, that we would enjoy healthy communication, shared holidays, and group photos with our new blended families. I pictured support, handshakes, and maybe even hugs. I just knew it would all be okay. After all, we were both adults. Adults that had been through a lot together. We had spent 9 years together, most of it decent. We had raised babies, grieved the loss of our parents, and shared a lot of laughter and love together. This is someone who had been my best friend, and I was not going to forget that.

Now, I can recognize that part of my ‘pollyanna perspective’ was due to the fact that I was the one to end my marriage. It is easy to look on the bright side when you are the one making the decisions. But looking back, it is both shocking and devastating to see how wrong I was. I won’t go into the details of our divorce out of respect for both my ex-husband and our children but I will say, in regards to co-parenting, the past 6 years have been indescribably challenging. For me. For him. And worst of all, for our children.

My post-marriage fantasy of laughter and unity has been anything but. In fact, I think that both my ex-husband and I would agree that it has been an absolute nightmare. Complete with contempt, vicious words, and quite frankly, child-like behaviour.

I want to be clear that I am not placing blame here. As the saying goes, it takes two to tango and as much as it pains me to admit it, I have very much been a part of the erosion in our relationship. It becomes easy to point fingers at the other party and point out how difficult or uncooperative they are, but the truth is, we have both played a role. When divorce happens, all of the disagreements, the annoyances, and the differences in parenting get that much louder, that much harder to ignore. Bitterness creeps in if one party thrives while another struggles, or if one moves on while another takes more time to grieve. And I am embarrassed to say that we let all of it get the better of us.

I am embarrassed to say that we didn’t do better.

What I have realized now is that it doesn’t matter how reasonable or kind a person is, hurt feelings and resentment can turn them into someone you barely recognize. Whether it is your ex-spouse, or yourself. And as much as it is important to offer everyone a little grace, when there are kids involved, it is much more important to pull your head out of your ass and put them first.

As I ride this secondary wave of grief realizing my ex-husband and I will never have the friendship that I wanted us to, I have become even more resolute in my determination to move forward from here in a different way. We may never sit around the same table celebrating an engagement or a new grandchild, but we can still do better. And if I have learned anything over the past 6 years, it is that the only actions and reactions I can control are my own.

I don’t know what the future holds for our broken family. Likely lots of biting our tongues, firm boundaries, and very limited communication. And even though that isn’t ideal, it is still okay. Not every divorce story needs to be a hallmark movie, as long as the kids come first. Even when we are angry. Even when we are hurt. Even when it’s hard.

To my babies, I’m sorry. Mama’s going to do better.

**Disclaimer: The below blog is probably one of my most vulnerable ones to date. But, I think it is worth it. Perhaps someone reading this will feel a little less alone or find the courage to reach out for help. When we share our stories and silence our shame, we encourage others to do the same and if there is one thing I wish for you all, it is that you carry less shame.**

I remember the first time I really lost it on my kids. I’m not talking about getting a bit snappy with them, yelling a little, or having a ‘mommy meltdown’, I’m talking about full blown RAGE. The kind of anger that overtakes you like a tsunami, taking your breath away and leaving you gasping, sobbing, and absolutely exhausted. It was, of course, completely undeserved and although I tried to repair the damage I had done through apologies and gentle hugs, the guilt and shame I felt that day rocked me to my core. I chalked it up to a bad day and tried to carry on but then, it happened again.

Although thankfully not common, these anger outbursts occurred sporadically over the years and each time, I was left feeling more guilty, more exhausted, and more confused than the time before. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I mean, yes, each time there was some sort of trigger or stressor but they were always minor, nothing warranting a blowup of that magnitude. And stranger yet, it always seemed to come out of nowhere. Just like a tsunami, the wave would strike out of the blue and we (myself included) all just had to hold on to whatever we could and wait for it to pass. In those moments, I felt completely out of control.

Jekyll and Hyde.

It wasn’t until nearly a decade later that I finally began to gain some insight into these bursts of rage and was able to start to heal things a little bit. I was sitting in my counselor’s office, unpacking my shame around having put my children through yet another outburst when my counselor gently interrupted me, “Christine, when this happens, you aren’t a monster or a terrible mother. You are having a panic attack.”

I burst into tears.

As she went on to explain the correlation between anger, anxiety, and trauma, I found myself relieved, scared, and confused all at once. I knew that I had struggled with anxiety for much of my life and I considered myself fairly well-versed in mental illness. I had plenty of friends in the field, had access to lots of resources and mental health professionals, and had even taken psychology courses in college, yet I had been completely oblivious to the fact that bouts of rage could be a symptom of unmanaged anxiety and trauma. In fact, prior to that appointment, I would have told you that although I struggled with anxiety, I was lucky enough to have never experienced a panic attack. I thought that panic attacks were the classic heart-racing, clammy, hyperventilating that you see portrayed in movies and on tv. I had no idea anger could be present.

Realizing that I was not just a terrible mother allowed me to let go of some of the shame I had been carrying. But it also empowered me. Through therapy, meditation, and at some points, medication, I have learned the cues my body gives me to let me know I am on edge (turns out, there are a lot of signs). I have learned what is happening in my brain in those moments of panic (fight, flight, freeze), and the steps I can take to try to intercept it. I have learned the importance of decompressing, knowing my limits, and taking space when I need it. I have learned to tune in, even when it is uncomfortable, and to communicate with my family when I am struggling. I am now able to offer myself some grace and compassion while also holding myself accountable for managing my anxiety disorder.

If I were to guess, I would bet that anxiety will always be a part of my story. But now, I get to choose how it gets written. And I want my story to be one of vulnerability, healing, and hope. I can’t take back any of the mistakes I made in the past but if my kids learn anything from me, I want it to be that we are not defined by our mistakes … we are defined by what we choose to do with them. I want them to know that we may not be able to choose all that afflicts us, but we can choose how we manage it.

Tag: parenting

Doing better after divorce

A is for anger. And also anxiety.