Clueless & Torn

In 2008, friends and fun was all I wanted in life. I recently realized how clueless I was. How innocent and ignorant I acted.
The rain went “thud” outside the sanctuary of my room, my place, my home. I sat reading happily under the pink, knit blanket from my childhood.
Mum called my brother and self down to eat our potatoes and chicken. The three of us finished, Dad still not home. At the time, I was glad. He was strict and his voice rose often. I was becoming fond of the pleasant dinner conversation compared to the rant about the day.
I returned to my favourite room, mine. Before I picked up the novel I was reading, I stared in the mirror, tucked a loose hair behind my ear. Life’s going great, I thought. More friends this year, and I think I look better than last. It’s all up hill from here, I added.
The lock on our front door jiggled and the door opened. Dad’s home, I realized. He became less strict and loud, I recalled, more involved. Everything’s better.
My mum called for me a second time, this time her voice sounded weak like it had been when she told me Beazavo had passed away.
I left my room, head sagging. Turned down our stairway and saw my Mother, Father and brother all waiting. Both my parents showed no emotion. I was scared. My brother’s face looked terrified, the way I imagined I looked.
My parents explained why I hadn’t seen my father as much and that they were getting a divorce. I figured I was fine and that it’d just make life simpler. But on the other hand, I wouldn’t be like my friends; I wouldn’t have a full family. I was torn. I acted as if it didn’t matter, I didn’t care. My brother was questioning, always asking. He had been seven at the time and didn’t fully understand, I was 4 years older.
When they had finished explaining, I went back to my room in attempt to loose myself in another world, another life, another book. My mind kept returning to the previous conversation.
My mum knocked on the door and asked if I had any questions, if I wanted to talk. The tears that I’d been holding back were fighting to be let free. A few escaped. My mother embraced me.
At school, I lied. I pretended that I couldn’t care less, but in all honesty I couldn’t have cared MORE. I told them not to feel sorry for me, that it was for the best. I wanted someone to realize how much I was hurting. I wanted someone to ask for the truth. No one did. I had even fooled my best friend. She didn’t notice how my smiles were shortened, laughs quieter, and I felt alone.
At first, I missed it, I missed him. But soon enough I understood that nothing changed. It was all like before only now I spend more time with him. He’s happier with my brother and me.
Although my friends lived with their fathers, I lived with my father and loved…love my father just like them. I think my parents divorce improved my life. I smile more, laugh loudest and am surrounded by friends just like me. I act as they do, we are one. I wouldn’t have found my new BFFs if not for the divorce. It changed my perspective of things, it made me stronger. I never admitted how broken, clueless and torn I had felt, to anyone, ever. Now I can write about it, laugh about how I was and pray that “whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” is not only true but something I’ll always remember. Even when it feels like my world is caving in and all things are wrong. I learned to live happier, to be stronger, and not to hide behind a cloud waiting for someone to find you, they never will until you let them. So live like you never have before, love like you’ll never love again and speak up and let your emotions be heard.