Split

I was four possibly, living in an apartment right in front of Bronx Park East, as a child I loved this park where my family held picnics, celebrated birthdays and gathered the family. As a child I knew nothing but love and happiness and the occasional tantrums when I didn’t get my way. Other than these small outbursts I had as a child my life was perfect, and I was close with my family and I thought we were all happy too.

This was the very first time I heard my parents argue, behind closed doors to what they thought was a discrete argument. I heard the words “Me voy a ir pa Mexico” coming out my dad’s mouth, he was angry and I had no clue what they were arguing about. This was the first time I ever heard them argue and till this day I had no clue what was going on because I was only four. It was probably something they would continue to argue about for the later years to come.

Then, I was 14, one of the mornings right before I had school, why my mother chose this time of all the others to tell me and my brothers this traumatizing news would haunt me. At this time I was still living in a private house in the Bronx. My family was getting older and my eldest brother was becoming a teenager and we had welcomed my younger brother knew who I would later raise as my own. She started by gathering us in the kitchen and said the words, “I have to tell you guys something.” These words trigger this memory all the time now. Then she proceeded to tell us that her and my dad would be getting a divorce, I was shocked. I didn’t know how to react and my older brother didn’t say anything. She didn’t tell us what had caused the divorce because she wanted my dad to be the one to tell us.

I went to school and cried in class, I hated crying and crying in front of people made me feel weak. My best-friends comforted me and thankfully their still my friends now because they were and still continue to be my support system during this time. I tried not to talk about it because I hated sharing my personal business and I didn’t want to continue crying and I wanted the day to go by as slow as possible. Once I got home I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t want to face the reality of my parents not being together.

It was 3:00 and I was dreading the walk home, I took the longer walk and walked slowly, I was in no rush to be home. It was a sunny day so that was good, the weather was nice neither too hot nor too cold, it could’ve been a great day if I hadn’t heard my family was being teared apart. I walked up to my front door and fumbled with my keys. My dog was barking because he knew I was home and alerted my family that I was home which caused my mother to open the door herself. She greeted me as if she hadn’t brought me heartbreaking news just 8 hours earlier and acted as if everything was fine. I didn’t bring it up and just helped her take care of my little brother, he was too young to know what was going and for that I was grateful.

My father wasn’t home yet, and it was probably because he didn’t want to speak to us either. I was always a daddy’s girl and my father, and I were inseparable. I didn’t want to think it was his fault, but I didn’t want to blame my mom either. Mother and daughter relationships are always hard. My mother herself shared no relationship with her mother so I didn’t blame her for having trouble cultivating a mother daughter relationship of her own. This was the excuse I held for her; this was the excuse that allowed me to still love her because she was the women who gave birth to me.

When my father got home my siblings and I greeted him, and he sat us down in the living room. My brown couch felt odd and uncomforting at that moment. I didn’t know what he would be telling us, and I never thought that this would be the reason they wouldn’t be together anymore. My father had broken the news that he cheated on my mother.

This was the man who told me never to lie, cheat, or steal. My image of him shifted. He was my best-friend and hero. I couldn’t imagine what my older brother would be thinking, and we never spoke of the situation deeply other us saying our parent’s situation annoyed us. My brother stormed off and even walked out the house, my dad followed him, and I don’t know what they said to each other or how their conversation went. My mom hugged me as I cried to the news. She was comforting me, but she had also done something to tear their relationship apart.

Throughout their separation, I often compared them to a light switch. The next two years would be the most confusing for me. They would pick and choose when they wanted to be together and when they didn’t. When they chose to be together, they would say it was for me and my brothers. It wasn’t, they failed to realize that them being a light switch made us suffer and ruined the meaning of a family for me. I fell into an unmotivated state because I was unhappy about my home life and their relationship had become confusing for me. My parents had ruined the image of what a family was supposed to be and how a couple fixed their issues.

Whenever I took my father’s side she would say “Of course you take his side, you didn’t even care that he cheated on me.” But it wasn’t fair for her to say this to me, because I had loved them both equally and they had both cheated. My mom had failed to realize that although she didn’t physically cheat on him, she had emotionally cheated not only on him but on us. She didn’t want to spend time with us anymore, she wanted to live her own life as if she was a teenager.

My mother had us when she was young, she never had a lived the life of her own. My mom is a strong woman, coming here at only 15 years old and living on her own. I don’t doubt that for a second, she once told me that we’re a lot alike and that’s the reason we bump heads so much. I can see that, as I learned from what she did, and her opinion would influence all my future relationships.

I would watch my father cry because of her, crying because she no longer loved him. I would comfort him as best as I could. My old man, hands held to his head crying uncontrollably. The tears rolling down and touching the oily, wrinkles he had gotten from supporting our family. He too was a strong man, and he did everything he could for us.

My mom, well she stopped coming home as often. Staying out all nights first, then staying out for days, and then I didn’t see her as much. No clue what she was doing, probably “living her life”. She came home and told us she loved us, she just stopped showing it. Maybe she didn’t know how to, and maybe she was happy living freely.

At 15 years old I told my father of a quote I saw on Facebook; he reminds me of this all the time telling him it helped him a lot and how I was “waking”. The quote starts “If I keep telling you the same joke are you still going to keep laughing?’ No. He replied wondering where I was going with this. “then why do we cry for the same problem again and again?”. Maybe this did help or maybe it didn’t, but they finally stopped their back and forth theatrics.

My mom and me didn’t. She started relying on me to do the chores and care for my brother. While my older brother did nothing.  This was unfair for me and I wanted to live my life of my own as well. I was 15 and had no reason to be caring for my parent’s child. My dad worked full-time and we only spent time with him early Saturdays and Sunday’s. He no longer lived with us, after some hard thinking they decided it was him who had to leave. I disagreed. Maybe I did take my dad’s side in the divorce, but I feel as if my mom had given me no other choice. I had become the women of the house and I hated it, because she wanted this not me. My mother favorited my brothers, and had me do all the cooking and cleaning, and taking care of her youngest child. I could’ve helped her out but taking full responsibility in raising her child was unfair to me. Why she was acting like the daughter and I the parent didn’t make sense. I should’ve been focused on school and working my way into a good college but instead I was raising a child that wasn’t mine.

 It may sound like I hated my brother, but none of this was his fault. I wish he would’ve had the same childhood I did. I tried my best to give him what I once had, but I guess he never knew what he lost. I don’t know how he felt throughout this and I can’t say for sure that he needed our mom because at least I was there for him. He was happy and that’s what mattered the most to me.

I can’t say the same for me and my older brother’s relationship. We had grown apart and barley spoke to one another, and he knew that I resented him because he was favorited by our mom. When we would fight, he would often say “that’s why mom doesn’t love you”. For the most part he was happy other than being the hothead of the family and if I were to diagnose him, I’d say it was because he never expressed his emotions. Him and our mom were close, and I desired the same relationship with her.

Like my mom, I would shut everyone out. Letting my pride get to me and believing I was always right. This didn’t go well for me, because I didn’t speak to my mom for four months, then to my brother for two and then to my best-friend for 12. I knew what I was doing, and I thought it was the way it’s supposed to be, not begging anyone to stay into my life. My mom had left me emotionally constantly making me feel like a last option and unworthy of her love. I would wish I was a boy too, so maybe I could’ve been a momma’s boy. I wasn’t, on the inside I fed for her love, but I exposed myself as nonchalant and happy regardless of me and her relationship. My father was the glue to me and my mom’s relationship, and when the glue dissolved, I had no clue what would bring us back together.

I’m now 19 and my mother daughter relationship has evolved. I decided to end the countless arguments with her and reach out to her as an adult and not a child. Hoping we wouldn’t start another debacle I approached my mother with open arms. Telling her I wanted to fix our relationship because I deserved a mother, not just my brothers. She understood, because she wasn’t a bad mom and I wasn’t a bad child. My mom and me are now closer than ever and although we still have our fights, I look forward to forming a family of my own and having her by myside. My parents didn’t break my family image of what a family is because although we’ve grown apart, we still love and care for one another.