This article is my life-saving text to you; it is my personal invitation to any adult child of divorce or separation to start (or continue) your own healing journey with Life-Giving Wounds.
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My parents officially divorced when I was about 17 years old. My father persistently campaigned for a divorce. He confessed that he had been in a relationship with another woman whom he had actually married while on his “vacations” in Egypt. Since I was the eldest of three, my mother would share her pain with me. To this day, being the main witness to her inconsolable weeping is one of the most painful experiences I have had as a 41-year-old man.
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If your parents divorced when you were an adult, like mine did, you may have experienced strife over paying for a wedding or a car. For me, my parents fought over who paid for what while I was in law school, including the cost of the postage stamp used to mail my monthly check! My parents’ contention over petty things affected my image of God the Father, who cannot be outdone in generosity (see Matthew 19:29). If my parents argued over who paid an extra few pennies to help support me, I certainly could not rely on them to provide anything, including financially.
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Upon entering religious life, I tried to hide in the coping mechanisms that had worked for me growing up, such as people-pleasing and anticipating others’ needs. I desired to please the Lord, could follow community customs and was good at serving others. Not only was I good, but was praised for my attentiveness to the needs of others and my generosity in service. As I continued further in formation, those coping mechanisms started to unravel and the truth of the pain I was in surfaced.
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Prior to the divorce, mine was a picture-perfect nuclear family: a dad, a mom, a little boy, and his dog. The dog, a Cockapoo, was named after my kindergarten best friend, Shawn. I don’t remember anything about the young human Shawn, but I do remember the canine one. He was the love of my young life, especially after we moved when I was six. I did not like being “the new kid.”
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The only thing I can really control is my own internal, spiritual life (although I admit even that seems out of control at times!). Right now, I want to do that by spending more time with the most perfect of families! The best part is that I know I am called to be a part of this perfect, intact family! I think that spending time with the Holy Family will keep me focused and restful.
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From day one it seemed like my parents were divided over my name. Well at least my first name because both of them shared the same last name before marriage. Each parent wanted me to be named after their dad. As a result, one side of the family calls me David and the other Andrew. By the time I was four, this division was complete and definitive by way of their divorce. As most children of divorce, I certainly felt divided and split in two; exemplified by my two different beds, two different sets of clothes, two different sets of toys and two different first names.
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I remember making an entire ritual and event when Taylor Swift released “Mine” in 2010, the single from Speak Now. I curled up on the couch and put in my earbuds, pressing play with all the pomp and circumstance a fifteen year old could muster. It was the first time Taylor was releasing a single since I fell in love with her music—but that wasn’t why I remember that moment so vividly....
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I define the ‘sexual orphan’ as ‘anyone who has been deprived the protection or advantage of their parents’ formative witness in regards to the physical, moral, psychological, or emotional dimensions of human sexuality because of parental divorce, separation, or neglect.
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But my mom was human. Both my parents were human. And the very fact that in spite of the deep pain and abuse that my mom went through for most of her life, she still tried…SHE TRIED. That is the difference.
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A couple of months ago, I was attending a women’s retreat... where glossy tiles of neutrals and shades of blue formed a gorgeous mosaic of the Blessed Mother. I kept returning my gaze to it, and I heard in prayer: “I see you looking at my mother—her maternal love is so different from what you have seen… My mother is tender, approachable, truly sacrificial, and only able to love fully and purely…”
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I have to be honest, I never thought that my world as a Catholic and my world as a professor at a public institution of higher education could ever meet together, yet coincide beautifully into one. But with God, anything is possible, so I continue to remain in thankful awe as to how He brings about good works.
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Last Friday, June 16th, I was blessed to attend the wedding of a dear friend of my husband's. Like me, my husband's friend is an ACoD. When I realized earlier this week that his wedding date coincided with the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart, I decided that I wanted to make a special wedding card for the couple.
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As a teenager, I began to experience mere anger, seemingly without any other emotion or feeling that I had no control over, and had no idea where it came from or why it would get so out of control. ... This was a tomb that I suffocated inside of for years throughout much of my adolescence.
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If you come from a background of family brokenness, I would like to offer encouragement as you look ahead to your wedding day. Brides and grooms—choose wedding customs and traditions that are meaningful to you. You have the freedom to make the choices that express who you are and what you hope for your future marriage and how you want to remember or to celebrate your past.
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I searched my heart for months and I accepted how I felt about this situation and made a decision. I realized that if I did not take care of them my guilt would have been much worse than I had experienced in my life. My father remained at his home with home health care and I oversaw his care. My mother eventually spent the last nine months of her life at home with my husband and me.
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About one year ago something very traumatic happened... My precious, amazing mom passed away... My world shattered the day that I lost her. Watching her suffer for months and being powerless to help her made me feel like I could relate in some way to our Blessed Mother, to the agony and helpless that she must have felt in watching her beloved Son die.
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Unlike the innocent childhood rites of passage that bring about a sense of pride and accomplishment, children who live through their parents’ divorce often experience an abrupt passage from childhood to premature adulthood. The hard and jagged rock of a parents’ divorce deeply and profoundly impacts a child even beyond what others see or notice.
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During his homily, a local priest referred to Christmas as “the whisper of a hope that never dies.” This struck me to the point of tears. These peaceful, consoling words I needed to hear this season came at the most unexpected time—and it has been a very, very long time since I have felt that sort of consolation flood my heart.
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When my future husband Raphy asked me if I would like to enter into a courtship with him to discern marriage together, I was excited but also scared because I didn’t know what this journey would entail. I also didn’t know if I would be truly ready to say “yes” to marriage. I desired to be married, but would I be able to do my part in it?
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