Teaching your children that self-worth or self-love or self-sufficiency, aren’t important in a relationship, is worse than divorce.
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I’m sitting next to my son in the backseat of our vehicle, his father driving as we embark on a long road trip to visit family. I look next to him and see him smiling and giggling and talking that adorable-yet-ultimately incoherent gibberish, content in a way I never thought I could be. In these moments, I find myself thinking about his future. A future filled with trials and tribulations and successes and failures and love and loss and, perhaps, marriage and children.
Perhaps.
And while I know my parenting style does not mirror others, it is in this moment—looking into the eyes of my drooling, obliviously happy one-year-old—that I promise myself I will not teach my son that marriage is the end-all-be-all of romance or partnership or relationships.
It is in this moment that I will remember another car ride I took not too long ago, and the very real, very painful and very unforgettable lesson I learned about marriage, divorce, and the disconnected spaces in between.
♦◊♦
I was sitting beside my mother in the passenger seat of our family truck. We were stopped at a red light, mom attempting to wipe away the mascara and eyeliner running down her face while I looked out the passenger side window. I could hear her sniffles and heavy sighs over the radio, playing an out-dated song for the seventh time.
You need to leave him.
I had said this to my mother more times than I care to admit. My earliest memories aren’t of shared giggles or illustrious family outings or game nights in the living room. My earliest memories are of me asking—nay, begging—my mother to divorce my father.
I can’t do that, Danielle. You know that.
She flipped the tattered visor down, grimacing slightly at the sight of her bloodshot eyes, blotched skin and failing makeup. I remember how exhausted she looked, not just in body but in spirit. I remember wanting to hug her and shake her all at the same time.
Yes, you can. It would be better for you—for all of us–if we didn’t live there anymore. You need to leave him.
You guys need to get a divorce.
I looked out the window again, jealous of the family in the small car next to us. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had days like this.
I wondered if the school-aged children in the backseat knew what it was like to see your mother being choked and slapped and hit and endlessly yelled at. I wondered if the mother in the passenger seat knew what it was like to feel helpless and alone and completely controlled by a man who claimed he loved her. I wondered if the father, driving, treated his family as if they were possessions instead of people.
The rest of the drive—which was probably to the grocery store or a basketball practice or something mundane and typical—was filled with my mother’s excuses. And while I believed they fell short and didn’t qualify as reasons to stay in an abusive marriage, my mother was steadfast in her belief that divorce—with its lawyers and arguments and complicated procedures—was far worse than her marriage.
And she isn’t the only one to think that.
♦◊♦
The stigma surrounding divorce is as faltered as my mother’s reasoning. The idea that divorce is for the lazy or the thoughtless or the careless or the people who can’t be loyal or devoted, is what can keep couples from doing what is best for them and their family.
The stigma surrounding divorce leads people to believe that divorce is the worst thing that can happen to a marriage.
But trust me, that isn’t true.
Staying in a relationship out of obligation, is worse than divorce.
Allowing yourself to live the majority of your days miserable or alone or unsafe, is worse than divorce.
Covering holes in your walls with picture frames or hiding bruises with layers of foundation, is worse than divorce.
Continuing to raise your children in an environment that fosters hate and pain and anguish instead of love and understanding and acceptance, is worse than divorce.
Feeling numb and disconnected from yourself because of a relationship, is worse than divorce.
Pretending that a relationship is perfect when it is really poisonous, is worse than divorce.
Teaching your children that self-worth or self-love or self-sufficiency, aren’t important in a relationship, is worse than divorce.
Feeling unsupported in your endeavors because it somehow threatens your partner, is worse than divorce.
Living a life devoid of true love and partnership because you made a promise once-upon-a-time, is worse than divorce.
Feeling like your home is more of a dungeon than a dreamland, is worse than divorce.
Feeling trapped in a relationship because a religion tells you to remain steadfast and unwavering, is worse than a divorce.
Being held back by your pride, is worse than a divorce.
Sometimes, marriage is worse than divorce.
♦◊♦
We’re stopping for the night, my partner and I exhausted and my son now sleeping in his car seat. I go to check into the hotel for the evening, me asking for a room while bags are being unpacked. As my partner sets the last bag at my feet and hands over the heavy, snoring baby that is our son, the clerk asks if my husband and I would like one bed, or two.
I smile and answer, refusing to take the time to correct her. We aren’t married, and while some may believe our relationship status to be lacking, I know that we are teaching our son a very real, sometimes painful and often unforgettable lesson.
Marriage is not the end-all-be-all of romance or partnership or relationships.
Sometimes, divorce is.
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