the hidden message Essay

Yelling. Throwing. Destruction. Heartbreak. Although my young brain was not developed enough to relive the horrid battles, years later I could still feel the stinging pain in my chest as I lie awake at night, wondering how it came to a sudden end. Divorce. How can one, simple word have such a powerful meaning? So powerful and common it could be mistaken for a disease, seeming to make its way through the world, knocking down anyone in its tracks. Unfortunately, I was one of the millions of children suffering through a divorce. I was only two years old when my parents decided that their marriage was brutally coming to an end. For quite a while I hadn’t known any better. Going to my dad’s house every other weekend became a routine that wasn’t questioned. For quite some time my mom and I lived with my grandmother, my dad’s mother. I can still recall lying in bed at night, holding my mom’s hand until I fell asleep. I remember the joy of packing my bags to go visit my dad. This procedure wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for me. In fact, until my mom met her second husband, I thought the situation was normal. Three years later I was exposed to a new life, a new home, a new man and a new family. From the view of others, this was a standard family, but not to me. It wasn’t long before I started unfolding the pages of my parent’s story. I would grill them with questions until I finally became educated on the word divorce. To me divorce meant fighting and bickering overpowered the love that was once there. Ironically, my dad also moved into a new home, with a new woman nearly the same time my mom had moved in with her boyfriend. It wasn’t long before my dad married Tracy. And approximately a year later, I was walking down the isle with my mom and Steve. Looking back it seems as though it all happened so fast. I was unable to grasp the concept of how you act as though someone you once loved, never existed. It didn’t seem possible to my young, immature mind; but apparently it was. In 2000 my dad had his second daughter, Abigail. I was thrilled that I was no longer an only child, even though it seemed as if I was on the weekends that I wasn’t at my dad’s. But, two years later my mom had my brother, Steven. Finally I had a sibling at both houses, and no longer felt alone. Eight months later came my dad’s first son Kai. But, it didn’t take long for some problems to start troubling my two families. I no longer liked visiting at my dad’s house because his wife, as I used to say, is evil. She treated my brother, sister, and I in a manner no child should ever be exposed to. I lost respect for her immediately, and never returned after the severe incidents unless she was not present. After Steven was born, I was no longer looked at as a daughter to his dad. Since I was not biologically his, I was nothing. It was also only a matter of time until he completely lost my respect as well.
Ironically, my mom and my dad both divorced their spouses the same year. It took seven excruciating, long years, but I am thankful that it

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