Divorce

Alyssa Granato Mrs. Scarcello ENG3U 23 September 2009 “ If you’re so unhappy with your life why don’t you leave your children and go run off with that bitch of yours, you obviously do not care about them”. An outburst such as this is not a common occurrence in a family environment, but to my scope of normalcy, it was just another evening in the midst of the war that I painfully referred to as home. The façade of the perfect family had begun to fade and my innocence stolen in the battle between the two I had held most dear to me. During the deterioration of my family I was subjected to a metaphoric experience, thus resulting in my current state of being. My siblings and I sat idly by as my parents engaged in an all too familiar war, which grew more violent by the day. As the battles increased I was sworn to secrecy. No one was to know that my father was involved with another woman, and that my mother was indeed aware. I soon became a solider of this war. My duty was to protect the family image. “What goes on in this family is no one’s business but our own. No one is to know about this”, was the lecture I often received after another variation of the same argument between my parents. My second duty was to protect my siblings, I being the only one who knew the true origins of my parent’s deep embedded hate for one another. I would often dream up stories excusing my parents’ behaviour to tell to my hysterical younger brother. The stress of hiding the dark secrets of my family amounted and I began my descent into a haze of confusion and insecurity, all at the impressionable age of eight. My Granato 2 once vibrant personality faded into the depths of this battle. I became consumed by the hostility, which engulfed my life. My ability to connect with other children my age was compromised. I viewed my classmates’ whimsical behaviour as a sign of ignorance. I felt that they were unaware of what life actually involved, and that they would soon face the same suffering that I was then enduring. The only children I was able to identify with were my sister and brother; they became my only social interaction. On a personal level I felt very insecure. The fact that I was not enough to keep my father from seeing this other woman was a personal attack on my own self worth. If my own father did not view me as important what man would' The war we had fought for so long had soon taken a drastic new approach. My mother and father had come to the realization that it would be best if they no longer lived together. The propaganda came soon after this fatal decision. With my father considerably absent from my life, my mother began to heavily influence me. Thus, my hate began to breed. As my siblings came to accept our new lifestyle, I began to resent my father and loathe his “other woman”. I made minimal communication with my father and my relationship with my siblings became strained. I viewed their acceptance as betrayal, and took these drastic measures to prove my loyalty to my mother. Hate in the most sincerest form is a crippling disease and I was sick, it was my motive for every word I spoke, every outburst I could not control, and I was slowly being consumed by my illness. I was still sworn to secrecy, and now housing an immense amount of hate, with virtually no outlet. Often the physical pain of my trapped emotions would lead me to become ill, I would go days where it was difficult for me to keep my food down, I was Granato 3 lost. With only a select few members of my immediate family aware of our situation, I began to retreat from any social interaction, I became introverted. My hate coexisted with my anger and my teachers, family, and friends all fell a victim to the bitterness I now identified life with. No longer able to believe in optimism, I saw no point in trying. I had reached rock bottom and made myself comfortable with the fact that this is where I would stay. The domestic warfare had calmed, but my extremist view on my family’s situation had remained. If it were not for my grandmother, I may very well have stayed in this state of mind. After another incident of falling ill my grandmother inquired about my emotional stability, and if everything was fine at home. I responded in a well-rehearsed answer that I would recite to anyone who inquired about my home life, she had seen right through it. My grandmother continued to explain to me that she was aware of everything that had happened the past four years, and the reason my body was betraying me was because the hate I so desperately clung to was destroying my soul. My grandmother found me in the most difficult time of my life and offered me a cure. Forgiveness did not come easy, not only did I have to give it, but I also had to ask for it in return. I began to rekindle my relationship with my siblings, and reconnected with my father. To forgive is to admit that we are all human, susceptible to mistakes, I am not free of sin so who am I to cast the first stone. I now model my life on dealing with it one day at a time, I will not dwell on the past or stress about the future. No one is left unchanged after the very core of his or her universe has been shaken. All one can do is hope to grow and learn from every experience whether it be Granato 4 positive or not. As my family seemed to be falling apart, I began to piece myself together. Throughout the duration of this experience I have been challenged, beaten, and enlightened. If I had not experienced the immense pain, confusion, and self-doubt I would not be the person I am today.