Like I mentioned in a post the other day, I believe that in every story there are always multiple versions of the truth. That is because people can only give an accurate picture from their own point of view. Some people are capable of looking at things from multiple points of view. For some, however, this is extremely hard.
So as I mentioned, when we got divorced, his family sided with him, and my family sided with me. That’s how it’s supposed to be, right? Time and time again I tell my parents and my friends and a whole lot of other people; that it is completely natural for his family to want to take his side, and not mine. I get it. Family should stick by their own. If my family had sided with him, I would have been devastated. It’s what we do; we support our own.
I’m not saying that is even right; just what I think we’re all naturally inclined to do.
There were a lot of bad feelings between us, and these bad feelings spilled over to both of our families. What everyone forgets or maybe just overlooks, is that there are always multiple versions of the truth. We all believe what we choose to believe. Ask me why we divorced, I’ll tell you my story. Ask him, you’ll hear a different story. It’s because we each have our own truth.
But then there are our kids. Half of him, half of me. The truth that everyone tends to forget. The one truth that everyone should remember.
Our kids had no say in the divorce. Like any children whose parents divorce, they had no choice but to go along with it, like it or not. They had to watch one parent (me) move out of the family home and were expected to adapt to the change as if their whole world hadn’t just been shattered. It was a lot harder for them than either of us.
And then all of a sudden, all of the people who were supposed to love them the most in the world, were suddenly all turned against each other.
Take it from me, it is the worst position you can put any child in.
Half of you, half of them. Everyone seems to forget that. Yes, sometimes even me. I can think whatever I want of him. He is still their dad, just as much as I am their mom.
This is the one thing I hate the most about being divorced. It was easier for my kids when we all got along. They could love everyone they wanted and spend time with whomever they wanted and no one got offended. Or hurt. Or made to feel like there is a side to be chosen. This is the way it’s supposed to be. Even now.
One of the things that I dislike the most about people in general is when someone says not so nice stuff about someone who I happen to know and like, and questions why I associate with someone. Don’t question my judgement; I am capable of deciding who I want to be friends with. And yeah, maybe you’re right. But let me decide that for myself. In time, I’ll figure things out.
It’s like this with my kids. In time they’ll learn their own truth, on their own.
So you don’t like her. That’s fine. But the kids might still want to have their mom in their life. So you don’t like him. That’s fine, too. But the kids still might want to have him in their lives, too.
Half of you, half of him.
Don’t make them feel like a part of them is bad. They deserve so much better.