Living with Divorced Parents

My parents got married when I was nine years old. I had a brother that was 14 at the time. My family all together was dysfunctional. My mother was kind and gentle. Both of my parents were using methamphetamine. It was a rough childhood. My parents fought and yelled. I even think my father cheated on my mom several times. By the end of fifth grade, my family was ready to dissolve. My mother had finally had enough. She told my father to leave after one fight not expecting for him to take me and my brother. I got dropped at a family friend's house where I stayed for 6 months. I returned to my mother only once during that time. The house was a mess, my mother was depressed, and she had even started dating.

My parents were separated. Eventually, I moved back to my mother's new found home. She was dating what I would soon know to be my stepfather. I was around 13 by now. I hadn't seen or spoken to my brother since we left our childhood home. Eventually, my brother called our mother an ask to come home and get a warm meal. I was overjoyed to see him. My brother was my rock. He was my strength when we would hide away under my bed or when we would play pretend in the woods. He was the one who taught me to swim or to ride a bike.

I love my brother, he was so strong when our parents were separating.

I was in a new home, new "father," and a new school. Everything changed but that was only the beginning. Little did I know that the scenery was all that really changed.

In the next year, my mother finally went after my deadbeat dad for child support. I, because I wanted to, attended the court hearing on her case. My father was a deadbeat an I knew it. My mother was granted $474 every month from him because he was unemployed on purpose. I hated that all that had gone on had made me choose sides between my parents.

After that was over me, my mother, my brother, and my new stepfather moved into a new apartment. Where he would verbally fight with my mother and try to discipline me and my brother like his own. My stepfather was probably better than most but there were still times when his anger got the best of him. Times were he would kick in my door because I wanted to calm down. Thinking about it though I hear stepfathers who have raped and beaten their stepdaughters. Luckily I eventually learned to love my stepfather. In my experience over the years, I've spent with my family and my new stepfather we're better off then we were before when my actual parents were together.

After a year with the man, we began a new and got a way better home then I would ever imagine with my father. We got a three bedroom two bathroom apartment that came along with my stepfather's job. I know it may seem quite odd that I say it's a marvelous home but it was at first. After not long me and my family found out that he was not an actual nice man. He had a hidden personality. He was a thief that would steal and then convince my mother that she was losing her mind. He would take her bank card spend her money then say someone was actually committing fraud against us when really it was just his thieving ways. The saying also rang true in the end: thieves are liars and liars are thieves! I eventually left my mother's toxic relationship and flew the coop. To this day she puts up with him but they're doing better now thankfully.