Photo courtesy of Latina Moms.
If you’re reading this, you probably went to the same life school I did — the one of the fairy tale maid who waited for Prince Charming by reading poems. The one of “love is forever.”
In that school, the secrets of mothers and grandmothers were kept under lock and key. We never knew what went on in our parents’ bedrooms, imagining that everything was perfect. Those large families with lullabies, gardens, and love stories invited us to dream of that beautiful day.
That’s how we grew up waiting for our wedding day when we arrived with a suitcase full of illusions. But sometimes, not everything turns out as we imagined. Five, 15, or 25 years went by, and the end came. The ghost of what “will never happen to me” appeared: we got divorced!
Then came a string of mistakes, and, at the end of the day, the children pay the piper.
‘This can’t be true. This isn’t happening’
From then on, everything went wrong. My “happy family” broke up; it wasn’t so perfect. The house of cards collapsed, and obviously, the stab in the heart tore me apart. The first impulse is always to unleash the investigator and, oh! Surprise! It’s true! He doesn’t love me anymore!
“I’m not a good wife;” “I’m not a good woman; there’s another one.” Thoughts began to burden me. I started to look around, to look for alternatives to avoid breaking up. “What if I kick him out of the house?” “What if I get angry?” “What if I talk to the compadre?”
What if?
Forget it. Nothing works when love is over. It’s over, and that first step is the most painful: to accept it.
You divorced me, not your children
Pride is the worst counselor. “You left. Now you won’t see your children,” is oftentimes the first thought that crosses our minds.
The pain of the loss was so great that I forgot that the children still had a father and needed him. We women are very adept at expressing our pain loud and clear. But the reality is that nothing can be worse for a teenager than to see their mother crying because their father left her.
It was so easy then for my kids to take my side. But I wasn’t conscious of what I was doing. The only thing real was my suffering. I forgot that children are not part of the package. Love and divorce are a matter of two. The rest are outsiders and must remain so.
My ex is my children’s dad
Capitalizing on each other’s mistakes is a bad practice that remains over time. The children grew up, and that habit is a bad road companion. Even today, after years, I must repeat to myself that my ex is still the father of my children, even if he fails in his parenting attempts.
Perhaps there is a lack of forgiveness; maybe we struggle remembering that, although the children grow up, and despite the divorce, we are still parents and making different lives. We must realize that the pain of losing your life partner does not compare to losing a father figure. Maternal selfishness makes us think: “the children are mine.” But are they really?