When My Family Broke Apart at Sixteen

I was sixteen when my parents divorced, and because we had always been a close family, it felt like the ground shifted beneath me. I found out in the car with my dad on the way home from the airport after a summer vacation. I could tell it was difficult for him to say, but I still wish that moment had been different. My sister and I are close, and I always felt we should have been told together, with both of our parents there, instead of separately.

To this day, I don’t fully know why the divorce happened. I only know that my mother was the one who pushed for it. Not understanding the reasons made it harder for me and my sister to move forward. Without clarity, it felt like we were expected to accept something life-changing without being allowed to make sense of it.

Even though their divorce might be described as cordial, there was still tension when they interacted, especially when it involved decisions about my sister and me. That tension lingered for years and kept us on edge in situations where both parents were present. I always wished they could have worked together more effectively.

At the same time, I did feel supported. Both of my parents made decisions with my sister and me in mind, financially and emotionally. I never doubted that they cared about us and wanted to provide what we needed.

Still, I felt betrayed by the divorce. I had enjoyed our family life and all of our memories together, and it hurt to watch it break apart. It made me question the strength of relationships, and it has affected how I view them in my own life. Selling our home because of the divorce made everything even harder. I loved that house, and losing it was traumatizing. It affected my sense of stability and my quality of life.

When it came to parenting time, my parents included us in the discussion, and we made a plan that didn’t disrupt school or activities. It worked fairly well, and because my sister was eighteen and I was sixteen, we were given a lot of freedom to make our own choices. I don’t remember major conflicts between my parents over the schedule.

One thing that did affect me, though, was hearing negative comments from my mother about my dad, especially in the period right after the divorce. My dad never said negative things about her, and I respect him for that.

Living between two homes was difficult. I spent most of my time with my mom, especially after my dad moved into an apartment and then eventually to another city. I never fully adjusted to that change. My parents helped with transportation and supported us in having our own vehicles, which made life easier, but it didn’t change how hard the transition was.

Counseling was discussed early on, but my sister and I relied mostly on each other for emotional support. Looking back, I probably would have benefitted from counseling and should have pursued it.

In the end, I know my parents cared about us and tried their best. But the unanswered questions, the tension, and the sudden shift in our lives left a lasting impact—one I still carry with me.