Dating a child of divorce dating an italian american
It’s watching the main focus of your graduation drift from your accomplishments to the logistics of your parents’ interaction, and dreading future celebrations for fear that they’ll be more of the same.
It’s hearing “When you do that, you’re just like your mother/father” more times than you can count and wondering how you can avoid being too much like one or the other when you’re a product of both and when it was never such a bad thing before.
I remember, clear as day, the moment my parents told me they were getting a divorce.
Which was odd, considering my head was as fuzzy as the view out of my windshield, wipers ineffective against the rain, as I drove across the state line to the apartment of my childhood best friend.
She writes Gender on the Rocks, a blog about gender, relationships, culture, education, and the media.
The second a fight breaks out, you run for cover like a scared little kid.
You’ve been taught that things don’t usually work out, so it doesn’t even cross your mind that your relationship is going well.
It’s always a work in progress or there’s always some problem going on.
Comments like “You’re old enough to handle this” and “You should feel lucky that you had a family as long as you did”—even my own doctor casually remarking that he didn’t see what the big deal was—made me wonder if I was maladjusted and off-base for struggling to come to terms with what had happened and how my life would change.
Divorce for an adult child is many things, but easy isn’t one of them.
Instead, they retreated into separate rooms and met my questions by telling me to ask the other parent.