June Blog Challenge, Post I: Family

Here’s the prompt for Day 1 of the June Blog Challenge over at Waiting for Baby.

How did your parents meet?

I am not quite sure how my parents met. Sometimes, I wish they hadn’t at all. Then again, when you witness a divorce as nasty as theirs, it’s sort of hard not to wish they never met. My parents separated when I was in the 8th grade and my sister was in elementary school. I don’t think I really understood why they were separating at the time, but I understood completely that the family dynamics were going to change tremendously.
I was a total daddy’s girl, and the separation broke my heart. I spent a lot of time really angry with my dad. I felt like I was being abandoned. It was like he sort of checked out, on being a parent. He wanted to be there part-time, and he made that very clear. There’s always been sort of a divide within my family: my mom & sister, and my dad & I, and here I was, being left with them. There was a lot of tension in my household when my dad left. They fought all the time and in the most explosive, verbally abusive ways imaginable. We, children, were the ones to pay the price.
By the time I had gotten to high school, I hated my dad for “what he did,” and I hated my mom for turning us against my dad. Because she did, she would bash him to us, and naturally we were swayed. I was a little older though, so I could filter out most of her hurt, but all of this happened as my sister was growing up. She grew up programmed to hate him, and she does. It’s pretty tragic.
My parents divorced officially ten years later, while I was in college and by this point, I had learned to function with my anger. I learned that their failed marriage had nothing to do with me, their separation was not my fault, and that their divorce had no reflection on my life. I’ve been able to keep my resentment for such a shitty childhood separate from how things are now in my adulthood.
I have to learn to love my parents from a distance, because if not, the dynamics of our family infuriates me, and that’s therapy session I NEVER want to have.

Do you have any sisters or brothers? Tell us what you want.

I have one biological sister. She’s five years younger than me. I say biological, because our “sisterhood” is nonexistent. My parents raised us very differently, and because of that, she and I can barely co-exist. I’m the oldest, so naturally, my parents (specifically my mother) were very hard on me. My household was very strict; my figurative leash was incredibly short. My sister, however, was the fucking golden child. She could come and go as she pleased, and whenever she messed up, it was my fault, because I was the oldest. She never had chores, she never had her own responsibilities, she was never held accountable for her actions or her mistakes. The rules I had growing up, were never imposed on her, she did no wrong. She’s…..

…. You know what, I’m going to stop right there, because I’m starting to get upset. I hate her for reasons I really don’t want to share, and there’s nothing more to say about it.

Actually, let me start over.

Do you have any sisters or brothers? Tell us what you want.

I’m an only child.

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