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More handpicked essays just for you.
How a divorce affects a child socially and emotionally
How divorce affects children
How can divorce impact a child emotionally
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As the persistent, hot sun left beads of sweat on my neck, I ran along the pavement to my family’s apartment. I unlocked the door and, out of habit, I went to set my book bag on the couch. I froze. The couch was gone. In fact, everything was gone; all except a few cardboard boxes sitting on the dusty windowsill. It was only then that I noticed my dad sitting against the wall, eyes puffy and red. Before that point, the divorce never phased me. My parents had been quiet about their problems, keeping all the drama behind the curtain. It wasn’t until that moment, the moment I saw my dad break inside, that the divorce really set in. As kids, we look at our parents and think they’re invincible. Then someday reality sets in and you realize they aren’t
invincible, they’re human. Perhaps it sounds lame, but the moment I saw my dad’s hopeless expression was one of the most difficult times in my life. It was more than just a divorce, it was the realization that things aren’t always set in stone or what you think they are; not marriage, not the characteristic of the people you look up to, not anything. To be quite honest, that terrifies me. It terrifies me that forever doesn’t actually mean forever, and everything can fall apart at any given moment. It comes as no surprise to most people that my lifestyle is different because of the divorce. However, my perspective of life in itself has been altered as well. I know now that the future is far from certain. That can be an intimidating fact, but depending on how you look at it, it can be almost inspiring as well. Sure, I could’ve learned many bitter lessons from this experience, but I remained hopeful and learned something encouraging instead. And while this story may not be a particularly happy one, I’m thankful for the knowledge it’s given me. There is no path in life for us that is set in stone, which means we have the freedom to choose where we end up and how we get there. We can do anything. Even when the floor crumbles under us and we lose it all, we still have the power to make something wonderful with the broken remains.
In this inspiring story, Laura saves her family from her husband’s destruction and midlife crisis by ignoring her own feelings of anger, hurt and confusion. One day after twenty years of marriage, her husband came to her and said, “I don’t love you anymore and I’m not sure I ever did. I’m moving out. The kids will understand. ...
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
It was a dark cold night in December. Opening the door to their house, the den sat quiet as usual, but something else was different. Walking to the living room, I did not hear a voice that always greeted me with joy. There was no room for joy, or laughter anymore. When I sat down, my Pa Pa’s bed sat across from me. I could see the bones through his skin, the bagginess of his white t-shirt, and the sadness that rest in his eyes. On his lips, a smile no longer lived. “Hi Pa Pa”, I say as I walked over to k...
She often would blame herself for the loneliness and grief that she went through from time to time. Sue said, “Quietly, gratefully, I discovered that a part of me that had been off somewhere nursing grief and pain had returned” (Hubbell, 12). This is part of this book was written to show how to recognize the pain of divorce and how to heal from
When I was only nine years old I sat on my mother’s lap and heard the news that would impact my life indefinitely. When I learned that my parents were getting divorced, I never expected there to be any positive effects. However, in dealing with this drastic change in my life, I became a stronger person in numerous ways. Carrying my new maturity, new self-sufficiency, and new resilience on the weight of my shoulders these past 9 years have proven to me that I will succeed in life. Undergoing my parents’ divorce has heightened my level of maturity. I’ve learned life skills that allowed me to improve my self-sufficiency. Furthermore, going through this tough period of time has made me far more resilient in the face of hardships.
Ever young child will look up to their parents when they are younger, some might be happy with their parent’s parenting abilities, and some while disgusted will mimic those behaviors when they are older because those actions will lie in the unconscious.
My parents were in a heated debate over financial issues, an alien topic to my eleven year old intellect. As the discussion grew in excitability and anger, the room sucked into a suffocating density. At this moment I immediately knew where this was leading and rushed my younger brother upstairs out of harm’s way. There was never a physical harm to protect him from, but it was as though I did this to spare his innocent mind from developing into one like mine; doubtful and angry. Why can’t my parents just get along? Why are they even fighting? Why does my life have to be this way? Why me? Why are they so careless of our feelings? What did we do to deserve this lifestyle? Why us? I spent too much time questioning, and pitying myself over the fact that my parents didn’t love me enough to stay happy with each other. Amongst my questioning always came out the little blip that disrupted my parents arguing, “Are you guys getting a divorce?” I’m not quite sure where I first heard the word, but it became my magic word that took all...
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
“Mommy?” I asked laying in bed with the covers half pulled up to my face. “Yes sweetie?” my mother said downcast. “What’s going to happen to him?” I inquired, a lost look across my face. “I don’t know honey, we will have to wait and see.” As she said this you could tell she believed it, yet she was crestfallen because she couldn’t give a better answer. This was me, at 7 years old, looking at my mother with a fat lip and my father, who had just been removed from our home with his hands behind his back in a police cruiser. I can’t say I was overly sad, after watching my father abuse my mother I wasn’t subject to sadness for him. I was worried about whether or not we would have a home. If one parent was gone, how would we pay for it? Within the month I would be moving to an apartment, then soon on to Hampton, Iowa, where I would start a whole new life. At some point in life, all people must overcome adversity.
I will be the first to testify and, despite my obvious bias, I still believe that I am completely accurate when I say that my parents are the best that any kid has or will ever have. My mother, though, regardless of her efforts, repeatedly made a fatal error my upbringing; she never learned that, despite her trust in me, any adolescent boy left idle and unsupervised for any length of time will eventually turn to no good. Such was the case on a particular August afternoon.
I will never forget my first day of sixth grade. I was so scared thinking to myself that I wouldn't know what to do. It was seven-thirty in the morning when I got out of the car and stepped out onto the concrete of my knew school. I started to get clammy when I saw all of the big kids coming out of the building. My knees began to knock and I said to myself “I cannot do this.” I heard mom say, “Close the door and just go, you'll be fine.” for a minute I just stood there looking at the building and then I said, “goodbye, see you later” to mom. As I walked up the pathway, I took a deep breath and thought, “here does nothing”.
The aromas of ink and paper filled my senses, I was printed on a square sheet of paper, other bills surrounded me. I suddenly had become aware that I had been created. I was filled with thoughts of being free and happy, but then I realized I couldn’t move or talk. I would forever be passed around, under the control of someone who didn’t know I had thoughts. I would never be able to have a word, give my opinion, I would only be able to exist. My thoughts were quickly put aside when I saw the blade coming down. It sliced through the sheet of paper I was connected to, I could feel the panic of the other bills. Then I felt the pain, the excruciating pain, I could feel the fibers in the paper being sliced. I was separated from my fellow brethren,
As usual I woke up to the sound of my father pounding on my bedroom door, hollering, “Get up! Get on your feet! You’re burning daylight!” I met my brother in the hallway, and we took our time making it down the stairs, still waking up from last night’s sleep. As we made our way to the kitchen, I thought about what to have for breakfast: fried eggs, pancakes, an omelet, or maybe just some cereal. I started to get hungry. As usual, mom and dad were waiting in the kitchen. Mom was ready to cook whatever we could all agree on, and dad was sitting at the table watching the news. The conversation went as usual, “Good morning.” “How are you today?”