I remember feeling like the black sheep of my single parent family. It always seemed like my Mom and my Brother were the best of friends and I was just…there. I dealt with this feeling through the worst times of my life, the teenage years. I always felt like my Dad was my “person.” He and my Mom divorced when I was young, forcing me to go through the teenage years alone.
Having a divorce in the family, doesn’t negate the responsibility you have to your children. My Dad wasn’t the type to call, he felt like we should be the ones calling him. There were no summers away, no holidays. I couldn’t pick up the phone when I was missing him to reconnect, when he left my Mom, he left us too.
Through my teen and young adults years, I went through depression, anxiety and anger. The anger held on the longest but I know now, they were different branches of the same dark evil tree. Low self-esteem was my closest confidant, just when it looked like life may be going good, the oppressor would rear its ugly head. I spent my childhood jealous. Jealous of those who had dads who cared. A friend of mine named Amy was a child of divorce but her Dad was present in her life, and it hurt me wondering why my Dad didn’t do the same.
When I was on my own and finding myself, I realized that I had to deal with this anger. Even though I thought it was behind me, I found out it wasn’t. What prompted me was when I began to dig deeper into God’s Word. Honor your mother and father is the first commandment with a promise and after I began to enjoy life, I decided I wanted to live as long as possible. Thus began my process.