Child of Divorce
I used to live in Tacoma just south of seattle up until middle school (i think you call them junior high here in the PH). Back then I had a home, routines, friends, I was your typical fil-am kid. Then my parents divorced when I was still in middle school and suddenly my life turned upside down. After the divorce i chose to live with my mom and grandparents here in the philippines, saying my adjustment was hard is an undersatement btw bc wdym you have 7-4 classes here EVERYDAY in HS damn, and the worst part is that everyone acts like kids are supposed to just “adjust.” People talk about divorce like it only affects the couple, but nobody talks about what it feels like to be the child left standing in the middle of the wreckage. I lost my home and my old life. I had to watch both of my parents move on while I was stuck trying to figure out where I even belonged anymore.
Now I’m in college, and both of them have their own new families. New husband and wives, new kids, new homes, new lives. And every time I visit either one of them, I feel like a guest instead of their son. Like I’m some distant relative dropping by for the holidays instead of the first child they raised. The atmosphere is so different now. They have inside jokes, routines, family dinners, all these little moments that I’m clearly not part of. I sit there feeling awkward in houses that are technically supposed to feel like home.
What hurts the most are the little things they probably don’t even notice. The framed family pictures everywhere. Photos on shelves, photos on walls, photos from vacations and birthdays and milestones but none with me. Not one. It’s such a small detail, but it says everything. It feels like visual proof that I no longer fit into the picture of their lives. Like they rebuilt their families and accidentally edited me out.
And I know people would probably say, “they still love you,” but honestly love doesn’t mean much when you constantly feel invisible. If I mattered that much, why does it feel like I’m standing outside looking in every single time? Why do I feel more like a reminder of their old life than an actual part of their current one? It’s like I became connected to a version of them that no longer exists.
I hate that I’m the first child who got caught in the transition period before they built their “real” families. I hate feeling replaceable. I hate feeling like everyone else got stability while I got passed around and left to adapt alone. And now I live by myself while both of them go home every day to people who actually belong there. Meanwhile I’m stuck wondering where I belong at all.
The unfairness of it all is what really stays with me. They got to move on and start over. I’m the only one still carrying the emotional leftovers of what they broke.
I think what hurts the most is knowing I was there first.
I was the first child. The first person to call them mom and dad. Before the new families. Before the new houses. Before the new kids who get the version of my parents that stayed. But somehow I’m the one who ended up alone.
EDIT: I'll be graduating college with a latin honor next month and I havent told them, ill be walking up that stage alone, because that achievement is mine and mine alone